For your reading pleasure...
A collection of illustrated short stories by Francis Kruckvich.
I watched this pathetic wretch lay in the hospital bed, terrified, remorseful. I listened to his sad and shocking tale. I recorded everything he said with my handheld. He had been the victim of a wish come true. When I was at the University, my Psych 201 professor sent everyone in my class to the hospital. We each had to study a patient and write a paper. I was assigned to this guy that, alledgedly, had not slept for like a year. He was difficult to understand, at times, but I was still amazed by his story.
"It all started when I was working on this side project." He began. "
'I've got to get this done!' I remember saying that, repeatedly, out
loud. I remember thinking that I would finish this project at any cost.
One night I worked an extra hour, and I only lost an hour of sleep. The
next night it became two, then three, and it went on from there.
'I've got to get this done! I've got to get this done! I've
got to get this done!'
This was the thought running through my head as I looked at
the clock. It was 2:00am and I had to go to work the next day. I am a
systems administrator for Intergalactic Systems during the day, but
I've been doing web sites for small businesses at night. I was working
on a side-project, and the woman I was working for was pressuring me to
finish. I had been working on this cosmetics site called Moon Glow for
weeks and it was really starting to wear me down. I thought to myself
that I would finish this site tonight, email the woman and tell her
that it's done. Then, I would have an easy day at work tomorrow. Then
it will be the weekend, and I can catch up on sleep and maybe even go
out! I closed my eyes, just for a second, and thought about what I was
going to do on Saturday night. When I opened my eyes, the Solar Lamp
was shining in my window. I was still sitting in front of my computer.
I looked at the clock and it was 9:30am!
A long, weary grunt was the first thing that came out of my
mouth that day. I had missed the 8:00am Green Cheese Express (my train)
and I was late for work...again! I called my boss. She was an
easy-going woman. She had been a manager with the Lunar Government for
almost ten years. I had worked with her for almost as long as
Intergalactic Systems had a contract on the moon. She was divorced and
loved to party. She was always trying to get people from the office to
go to the Lunar Lounge with her. This made it easy for me, because all
I had to do with flirt with her, just a little, and she would go easy
on me for being late.
I rushed out the door of my apartment. I didn't eat anything. I ran
down the hallway unit and took the elevator to the first floor. I ran
through the Main Hall, passed the Food Court and Neil Armstrong
Memorial Park, and finally to the Train Station. The air in the
building always smelled funny after I had been running to catch the
train. The Green Cheese Express only ran every two hours after 8:00am
so I had to wait for the 10:00am train. It finally slid into the
station. Just the whine of the engine made me feel stressed out because
I had been associating that sound with the train that would take me to
my office.
Once on the train, I sank down into a seat. I tried to relax
as the train accelerated. I leaned back and looked out the window. I
could see tourists bouncing on the moon walk tours. The tour guides
would let them leap and bounce at certain points during the walk. They
were all chained together so nobody would accidentally float off. I
always thought about how fun it would be to go on one of those tours. I
promised myself I would do it after I had finished my free-lance
project and I caught up on my sleep. But that never happened. That
turned out to be a typical day on the moon for me. I dozed off in my
cube, as usual, but I always managed to catch the last Green Cheese
Express train home.
The next night, after I got home from work, I began working on
Moon Glow again. It seemed as if I was home for only a few minutes. I
looked over at the clock.
'Crap....2:00am...again! I can't be doing this!' I knew I was
losing sleep, but I was intent on finishing this project. I just get so
busy, you see, I lose track of time. Since the day I signed up for the
Lunar Project, I never got used to Moon Time. I'd forget to eat,
shower, sleep. When you sleep, you might miss something important.
Then, one night, I was at a party. I was looking out the
window and watching the Earth. White clouds were floating around the
little blue ball. It seemed as if the clouds were taking their time…as
if they had a lifetime to clear. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was going
through my head. I had a recording of that music on my MPZParticle
Player when I was a teenager. It only held a trillion songs, but I
thought it was the coolest thing back then. I played it over and over.
I just thought it sounded cool. I always thought the moon was
fascinating. That seems so long ago! Once I got to the moon, it just
seemed like one long day. I never really got used to designated sleep
times. I wished that I never had to sleep, or eat, so that I could work
continuously. Then I could go to all the parties during the recreation
hours. I would never miss the Green Cheese Express again! I had heard
rumors of moon fairies that could grant wishes. I didn't believe it
myself until I actually met one at that party. People think the moon is
just a rock, but it's really a mysterious place."
"And so you have been awake since that party?" I asked the
miserable fellow as he lay in the hospital bed. "You know the reason
you are back on Earth is because your heart stopped. Medication has no
effect on you. Your brain just refuses to go unconscious."
(End of this Excerpt)
I was sitting, and listening, peacefully. I didn't want to
move. I was floating as I enjoyed the most heavenly music human ears
could hear. It sounded like Puccini, but I couldn't be sure. I just
remember that the music was beautiful. I felt cool and peaceful as I
sat in that comfortable seat, listening. A concert hall seat had never
felt so comfortable as it did during that concert...and what a
wonderful concert it was! The music was flowing and it was as near to
perfect as music can get! I kept thinking that I knew the piece, but it
somehow sounded a little different than I had remembered. I sat there,
listening, enjoying, and trying to remember.
All too soon I began to feel the cold hands of reality,
tugging me back to consciousness, and I realized that I was indeed
dreaming. I was caught in a battle between dream and reality. I thought
to myself that I didn't want to awaken just yet. I didn't want harsh
reality to disturb this pleasant dream! I wanted to go on listening to
that sweet music. I found myself still struggling to remember what it
was that I was hearing. I wanted so very badly to be able to recall
every note while I was awake. Oh, if only I could have written it down,
or even recorded it, it would have been be most spectacular! I was
losing the battle. I began to awaken...slowly. In my hypnagogic state,
I could still hear the music. It seemed so real!
I lay still. I was flat on my back. The only muscles of my
body that moved were those of my eyes. Was I dreaming, or was I awake?
After a few minutes of adjusting to the sight of walls in a dark room,
I soon deducted that I was awake. Sometimes my dreams are so vivid
that, even minutes after awakening, it takes me a few more minutes to
distinguish between dream and consciousness.
After I had assured myself that I was indeed awake, I
remembered that I was sleeping in a room at my aunt's house. I hated my
aunt's house. Everything was so old, just like everything else in the
Twenty-third Country. There was not much in the way of modern
convenience there. It was a large house, even by most modern standards.
She was well off. Her husband, my uncle, had been deceased for about a
year. He was a scientist. He won an award for his work in sound
research. He wrote many papers on the effects of ultrasound and
infrasound on plants and animals. A few of his papers were published in
science journals and considered highly controversial.
They had made much money in the First Country, and they had
decided to retire in the Twenty-third Country so that they could have a
luxury home and live like royalty, since the cost of living in the
Twenty-third Country was much less than in the First Country. At least
that is what my aunt tells people.
I had agreed to stay there over Christmas break from the
conservatory since I was not getting along with my nuclear family. They
had always criticized me for pursuing my studies of music. They told me
that I would always be poor so they sent me to stay with my aunt in the
Twenty-third Country since it was not quite as developed as the First
Country.
The First Country is more advanced than the other countries
and a person can do anything there. I guess they figured that I would
realize how spoiled I was and come home a changed man. I listened to
every word they said. After all, they were intelligent and very
successful people. But music still seemed more "real" to me. Changed or
not, I couldn't wait to get on a transport back to my dorm at the
conservatory in the First Country.
I liked my uncle. I was fascinated by his sound research. I
wished that he could have been there while I was visiting during that
Christmas holiday. I kept wishing, and thinking.
While I was thinking, I sustained my position in the bed. I
was on my back. I could faintly see the ceiling in my room. The room
was still dark as the sun had not yet risen. I still heard the music! I
let my eyes wander across the dimly lit ceiling.
Dimly lit ceiling?
I got out of bed. I carefully walked from my room into the
hallway. I could see a faint beam of light stretching along the
ceiling, over the hallway, and into the living room. I followed the
light, as if I was walking down a path into the forbidden forest. I
began to feel silly as I suspected it was the lights on the Christmas
tree in the living room. When I arrived in the living room, I
remembered that the decorative lights on the Christmas tree were
supposed to be off for the night! I then realized that there was some
sort of light shining inside a hole in corner of the ceiling. I walked
over to the dining room table. There were several chairs resting
beneath it. I quietly pulled one. I carried the chair to the corner of
the room and placed it on the floor under the glowing hole. I carefully
placed my right foot upon the seat of the chair. Still not fully awake,
I leaned forward and threw my arms above my head and towards the
ceiling as I stepped up. I struggled, for a moment, to catch my
balance. As I stood on the chair, in the corner of the room, my head
was just about level with the ceiling. I peeked into the hole. I had to
stand on tips of my toes to see.
I could not believe what I saw! Even now, as I tell this
story to you, I am concerned that you may think that I am crazy. Even
if I am committed to a mental institution, I cannot deny what I saw
that night. As clearly as I can recall the account, fantastic as it
seems, here is what I saw....
(End of this Excerpt)
I woke up a little late. It was probably close to noon. As
soon as I had finished brushing and flossing my teeth, I signed on to
the Social Network. I was still trying to cope with losing my job.
These are crazy times. When I was in college, I never dreamed that I
would ever be unemployed. The Social Network was keeping me going. The
thrill of receiving an email or a friend request helped me to feel like
my life still had some significance. Some days there would be nothing.
Some days there would be multiple messages. It seemed to come and go
like the tide. What would I find today?
I had a couple of emails from Social Network regulars. These
people seem to have nothing better to do but send messages, but then I
had nothing better to do than to read them. I also had a friend
request. I opened the friend request first. It was from Frederick
Kirkland. I stared at that name for a moment. Somehow, it held my
interest. Then it occurred to me that that was my father's name. I had
not read his name in over twenty years. It was especially odd to read
his name on a computer screen, in a friend request received over the
Internet. There were no computers in our household while my father was
alive, and the Internet craze had not yet taken place at the time of
his passing.
At first, I figured it was someone that happened to share my
last name, by coincidence, and decided to connect with me. Or perhaps
this person was simply trying to expand his friend list. Nonetheless I
accepted it, and visited his profile. There were no photos. I noticed
that his profile was private. He had a few names in his friend list.
After a moment of thinking, I remembered that these, very few, people
were friends of his. I met some of them when I was a child. I visited
their profiles. The profiles contained photos of my father with his
friends. This was blowing my mind! How was this possible?
I figured it had to be my mother, but then again that would
probably not be likely. She had just recently discovered computers. She
was a total novice. There was no way she could have posted these pics
without my help. I signed off and went jogging.
Later that day, I called my mother. She still didn't know
that I had lost my job. I was afraid to tell her. I tried to think of a
way to ask her if she had been on the Social Network so that it would
seem to be a casual question. Luck was with me. She made it easy. She
asked me how my day was. I told her that I had a friend request on the
Social Network. Her reaction indicated that she had no idea what I was
talking about. If she was playing dumb, then I would have to say that I
do not know my own mother! I was confident that she had never been on
the Social Network, much less create a fake profile of my deceased
father and post photos of him that were taken before I was born.
The rest of my conversation with my mother was routine. After
hanging up the phone, I was still perplexed by this strange friend
request and the photos of my deceased father in the other profiles. Who
could be doing this? I was tempted to send an email to this person, but
I had no idea what I should say....
(End of this Excerpt)
"I'm going joggin' now Mom!" Bobby called to his mother. He
knew she was his foster mother, but he still called her "Mom".
"OK. Be careful." She called backed to him as he was opening
the storm door in the front of the house. He turned and looked back. He
saw his mom in the kitchen, making cookies. The sight made him even
more excited about jogging. Getting the blood pumping and working up an
appetite before munching on fresh-baked cookies was always a great
feeling. He held the handle of the storm door to make sure that it
closed slowly and securely. Once it was closed, he took off running
down the sidewalk as if he was never coming back home again. Bobby was
an active lad. He loved to run. He ran full force until he got to his
favourite field and then slowed down to a walk so that he could enjoy
the look and smell of the grass and the trees. As he stood smelling,
another familiar smell crossed his nose - cookies! It was so faint that
he thought he may have been imagining it. Still, the thought of his
mother's cookies suddenly entered his brain. He began to run back to
his house. He now realized that he was a mile away from home. The
thought of the cookies gave him enough enthusiasm to run the entire way
back.
As he reached his house, he pulled open the storm door and
entered the living room. The aroma of cookies filled his head and
lungs. He stood still and took a deep breath. The warm, dry, air in the
house made his head tingle. Soon the inviting colors of the walls and
carpet faded, and everything in the room turned into a pale yellow. The
next thing Bobby could remember was his father (foster father) standing
over him.
"Can you hear me son?" He kept saying this over and over....
(End of this Excerpt)