A Brief Aside...

Hey, a good friend of mine, Cilantro Abernathy, is writing a new novel and he has been kind enough to offer us a brief excerpt from it. The working title is Strange Tales of the Ohio Catfishermen. He hopes to complete his work and begin looking for a publisher by the end of the year. The excerpt is below:

Funny feeling, waking up and not remembering what happened the night before. It’s not like it’s an unfamiliar feeling to him, though. He’s been through this drill enough times before. The best thing to do is just smile and go about your business like nothing happened.

Rays of morning sunlight bust in through the blinds and he decides to go outside for a stroll. The clear blue sky is spotted by rolling cumulus clouds that pour quickly across the vast horizon as he makes his way into town. All is still and peaceful and he is completely at ease.

Meandering casually down Main Street he passes the door to the coffee shop and yells a friendly greeting to the man behind the counter. The man seems to ignore him and does not respond.

Further down the street he hears the happy tune of an ice cream truck. Scattered bits of memories begin to come back, as if through déjà vu. Memories from the night before brought on by the chiming. It seems like he was at an amusement park with the happy organ melodies almost surreal. The rides are loud and bristling, wild screams fill the night and he is spinning madly. He feels dizzy by the impulse.

Stopping for breath, he gazes longingly at a shop window. The glass is clear and reflective. Through it he sees the trees behind him, pavement, birds fluttering past. Something is missing in the reflection, though. He does not see himself. Looking yet only at the reflection, he sees people passing by. A man in a bowler hat walking a white terrier on a leash. A lady holding hands with a little girl, walking her along a half-step behind her. The little girl wears a grey overcoat and to her free hand is tied the string of a blue balloon. She stares into the shop window profoundly as she walks past.

Somewhat disoriented, he moves along and stands outside the door to a seafood restaurant. A model boat is in the window. More memories return to him, sounds of the structure crashing and breaking all around him. Haphazard splashes everywhere. Inside the restaurant is a photograph of a man holding up a large catfish. The amusement park yelling returns to his ears, this time rising to a crescendo that borders on terror. A vast gulp.

He steps back and hears the howling of the wind gusting from the north. Autumn is upon the town. He sees the trees swaying wildly in the breeze but he feels nothing.

He kicks at a stone. Nothing.
He throws a punch at a brick wall. Nothing.
He tries to pick a flower. Nothing.
He runs into oncoming traffic. Nothing.

The gulp echoes between his temples.

For a brief moment the traffic roars off and all is silent around him. He steps back and reclines. From far, far away he hears the eerie calliope moan of a river steamboat. Again a peace falls over him. Utter relaxation and total ease of body and mind overwhelm his newfound understanding.

Better settle in, he says silently to himself. It could be a long winter.