voices, hundreds of them, shouting and yelling angrily. The fear grows stronger as he stops in the middle of the street. He looks to his right, and standing there is Christa, fear showing in her widened eyes. He looks back towards the end of the street as hundreds of people emerge from the blackness, all running after the two of them, hatred and anger written upon their faces. The young couple then turn down a side street in an attempt to escape the mob. As they continue their head-long flight, they somehow become separated. Feeling the loss of her hand from his, Timothy looks around and finds that she has vanished. He turns to look at his pursuers and sees that they are almost upon him. He begins to run; but as he does, he trips on something and falls to the ground. He looks up to see himself surrounded. He looks at the faces filled with total hatred as he sees them raise the clubs and sticks that are in their hands. The weapons begin to fall toward the teenager, as he leaps up from his pillow upon his bed.
He looks out the window of his room to see the sun rising. Still shaking from the nightmare, he begins to get out of his bed.
“Not again,” he says to himself. For he knows he has dreamed that dream before.
:Tennessee, Memphis
:1978, June 19
:12:28 p.m.
Tim awakens from a dreamless night a night forgotten, except for the pain within his head, and the uneasy stomach that tells him he has again been drunk. From a window on the right side of his room the sun shines into his room as agonizing pain begins to shoot through his skull. So he reluctantly rises up to pull the curtains shut. He looks at the clock beside his bed and sees that it’s almost time for him to go to work.
He goes to his closet and opens it looking at his clothes. He removes his slacks and shirt along with one of his ties, which his father likes him to wear and places them on his unmade bed. He goes to the bathroom in the hall and closes the door, locking it behind him. Thirty minutes later he walks out freshly showered and shaved as he returns to his room. He shows all the outward appearances of being ready for another long day at the business, but on the inside he totally dreads every moment of it. Within ten more minutes Timothy is ready for work, and so he leaves his room and goes into the kitchen of his parents’ house.
“Morning Mother,” his says as best he can, continuing his years of hiding his drinking problem.
He opens the refrigerator looking for something to eat.
“Good afternoon!” She replies in a humorously jabbing tone. Tim notices and stops looking in the refrigerator.
“Well I think I’ll go and get something to eat at McDonald’s,” he states as he turns toward the laundry room, which is where the back door is.
“Bye!” He shouts back and is out the door. He gets into his beat up ‘69 Ford station-wagon and is immediately met by the smell of alcohol. He inhales the smell deeply and feels his headache ease somewhat. He starts the engine, places the car into reverse and is off to work.
:3:45 p.m.
Timothy has been working for almost two hours at his father’s electronics store. An overwhelming feeling of boredom fills him with the need to get into one of his secret caches of alcohol that he has hidden throughout the store. He heads toward the rear of the store. Then suddenly the bell rings, indicating that a customer has entered the store. He returns to the showroom of the store, and is immediately confronted with a familiar, but somehow different face. The young woman returns his look.
“Hi, Tim. Long time no see,” she says with a slight smile from her full lips, as she moves her curly brown hair from her hazel eyes.
“Christa!” Timothy says surprised to see her. “It’s been around two years since I saw you last.”
“I know.” She states. “I’ve been back in Memphis for about a year now.”
“I thought I’d never see you again, after you moved to Boliver.”
“I thought I’d never see Memphis again,” she responds with a small giggle.
“What’cha been up to?” he asks quizzically.
“Oh, just going to school. I just finished the eleventh grade.”
“Well, that’s great. What brings you here?” Tim asks as his mind fills with the memories of the good times they had at the townhouses and of the times they had spent just talking.
“I just, uhm, wanted to look around and see if there was something I might need,” she says, walking around the store and looking at the receivers, turn tables, and other items in the room.
The bell again rings as another customer enters the store, and Timothy turns to greet the individual with a wide smile.
After he takes care of the customer, Tim and Christa begin to talk once again. They continue this the rest of the day until Tim closes for the night, only being interrupted occasionally by a customer.
“Do you want to go and get something to eat?” she asks as he locks the doors to the business, and sets the alarm system.
“Sure, why not?” he answers and they go to his station wagon.
“Where do you want to eat?” he inquires as he opens the passenger door.
“Oh, how about, uh, McDold’s?” she answers.
“McDold’s it is.” He says as he shuts her door, again looking at her face, as he realizes she has become quite a beautiful young woman.
:11:52 p.m.
The house is totally dark, as Timothy walks instinctively through the black hallway to his bedroom. As he turns on the light to his room, the brightness of the light matches the feelings that fill the young man. He then undresses, gets in bed, and lies there thinking about the events of the past day. It has been a day filled with the renewing of memories and the happiness of a friendship restored. It is a feeling that he carries with him in his thoughts as he drifts into a deep sleep for the night, totally unaware that he has gone the entire day without a drink.
The sky is a bright gray. Tim looks at the sky line of the city and wonders where he is, but at the same time he senses that is it is a place he has been to many times. He looks at the trees around him, the homes, and the cars on the street he is walking down. In the distance he sees the metal towers for the high voltage wires that power the great city further down the road.
His mind is still filled with the bliss of his talk with Christa. As he thinks of the words that they had shared, he feels light on his feet, and so he pushes himself off the ground. His stomach reacts to the sudden change in direction, but the sensation soon changes to that of a light headiness. He suddenly has a perception of total control, but at the same time he is aware that he is lighter than anything around him.
He leans forward, and begins to fly over the houses and streets below him. He looks at the people below, totally unaware of his presence, as they go about their daily activities. Soon he is over an open field and so he swoops down, heading for the ground below, and then pulls up sharply only a few feet from it, gaining speed as he does.
The energy rush begins to overwhelm him, as he begins to move ever faster. He soars through the air, turning and twisting past an occasional tree, as he flies low over the hills below him.
“Agh!” He shouts as pain suddenly erupts diagonally across his back. He begins to plummet towards the ground spiraling down ever faster. He feels as if he is shackled in irons. Pain flows through him as if he is an airplane ablaze. He tries to right himself; but just as he feels the sensation of control begin to return, again the feeling of an object like a huge baseball bat is slammed against his back. Once again he screams in pain, but the agonizing sound does not end until the air is pushed from his lungs as his body slams into the hard unforgiving surface of the earth.
He lies there in total darkness, fully aware that it is only because his eyes are closed.
“You cannot fly!” A harsh voice shouts from above as he feels the presence of a dark form above him. “You are mine, and I will keep you for my enjoyment.”
Timothy opens his eyes and begins to look up toward the voice; but as he does so, pain explodes across his back again.
“Do
not look at me. I have not given you permission, Scum!”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Tim painfully asks, but no answer is given to him as the alarm clock beside his bed awakens him. Shivering, he begins to sit up. He feels a sharp pain shoot through his back a pain so bad that he reaches into a cabinet beside his bed removes the bottle that is within, and begins to drink.
THE CANDLE IS LIT
:1980, August 20
:2:45 p.m.
`What have I done to myself?’ Timothy asks himself as he lies upon his bed, his head down between his folded arms, his mind racing back through the last few years. Continually he sees himself drinking in his mind’s eye. He feels himself losing control of his life, making little mistakes here and there, which had called for a quick reaction on his part to make a capable decision. He fails though to make the right decision three times out of five or just does not act fast enough. The bottles he has hidden in several places throughout his father’s business has grown from pints to quarts, and from two to three or four. He does not know which. He is also aware of just how many times he has come close to killing himself, while driving intoxicated. He remembers that once he could dream at night, but now there is only a black void in his life from the time he lies down, till the time he wakes.
The only bright spot in his life is Christa. He had started to date her earlier that year,