Beyond Reality

  Beyond Reality

  By: Indigo Hawkins

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Indigo Hawkins.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

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  Further Reading: The Impossible Boy

  Chapter 1

  "Mr. Morgan Hello? Hello? Are you there?" Todd ignored the female voice in his ear and stared straight ahead. Everything melted away; the room, the phone, the furniture, even the dancing koala bear. Only a deep depression resided with Todd as he sat frozen in his recliner with the phone to his ear. With no expression or emotion, he continued to ponder his mortality while the fuzzy stuffed koala bear across from him, standing on top of the recently purchased couch, carried on with its silly dance.

  "Mr. Morgan?" asked the attendant on the other end of the phone. Todd sat motionlessly and watched as his world slowly began to materialize. The decorated walls of the room, along with all the other small reminders of his lonely days, returned to their natural positions. Todd's eyes shifted from left to right, up and down, trying to accept the world that he could not escape. As if that wasn't enough, an extreme pain ripped through his head.

  "Yes?" Todd replied to the attendant, rubbing his frizzy hair flat down on his head. His double chin hugged his neck while he slouched in the recliner, filling it with his hefty form like a bag of sand.

  "Is there a reason that you are canceling your flight reservations? Is it because of our services?"

  "No . . . it's okay," Todd said, looking up again at the dancing teddy bear through his big-rimmed glasses. The same glasses that Todd hated because he thought they made him look stupid. But, he only wore them because his wife said they made him look attractive. The koala bear's fuzzy arms moved as its head, bobbed up and down while it gyrated with joy back and forth on top of his couch.

  "May we please inquire why you have decided not to travel with our airlines?" the attendant continued. Todd remained still, looking directly at the energetic koala bear. The silence in his house overwhelmed any dance it performed, even if the stuffed toy could speak or create sound. The bear was a bubble of happiness that failed to penetrate the thick despair in the room. All the colors and designs, once interpreted as vivacious décor inside and around the house, were now nothing but trivial efforts for emotion and clear reminders of what once was a happier time and a loving home.

  "My wife died," Todd softly said into the telephone. His voice came across like a whisper. He thought about how final those words were, as they bounced off the inside of his head echoing many times. The attendant's voice was finally silenced, but she was no concern to Todd. He sat motionless and quiet in his business suit, attentive to only the familiar teddy bear not far away.

  Her humanity put a pause on her corporate followups and the attack dog training. "I'm sorry," the attendant said. Her voice had changed, clearly affected by what Todd had said. His thoughts moved in many directions all at once, definitely not caring about this particular conversation. He proceeded to hang up the phone after assuring himself that his last task was complete.

  "I'm sorry too," he said out loud long after the call was over. Expressing no sympathy or sadness during the entire phone call, he was more shocked than anything else. Todd slid his hands back onto his lap and sat spiritless at the table. Thinking of all the free time that's ahead of him with endless hours, meaningless days, and no obligation to control his life. He grabs a container of pills that sat next to the phone on the table. Todd sighed with heavy grief on his heart before unscrewing the cap.

  His headache intensified with every passing moment while his entertainer, the carefree teddy bear, danced on with its ridiculous movements. Todd lifted himself from the recliner and walked over to the couch where the koala danced. While scooping up the dancing koala bear for some reason, he took a quick look behind the couch where a carefully positioned prankster could conceal himself. There was nothing behind the couch. "Did I expect something to be there," he questioned himself? He put the dancing koala bear in his free hand as he lifts himself from the couch.

  Todd peered back at the teddy bear, which halted its dance and curiously looked back at him. Its head tilted to the side as if trying to understand his problems. Todd, on the other hand, had become far used to the little companion. Its presence always accompanied his darkest periods where only a few tablets of medication held back any extreme and immoral actions he would have conceived by himself.

  Todd dumped a few pills into his palm and quickly threw them into his mouth. He hoped that their introduction into his body would stabilize his headache, which had become all the more common without the tablets. His dependency was not, and could never have been, predicted by anyone. But who could judge a widower's actions days after the funeral?

  Todd went to his bedroom with sleep on his mind, travel plans made, and a suitcase on his bed. The teddy bear disappeared from the couch and began following Todd wherever he went. The house remained silent; filled with photographs on the walls, furnishings around the floors, and loneliness deeper than any grave.

  Chapter 2

  After driving almost an hour through an earth of uninhabited hills, patches of prairie, and the occasional scattered forest, Todd's desire for closure only grew. This was the first time he had ventured alone through a landscape such as this, but regardless of his fears, it had to be done. He had been stalling the occasion for far too long; afraid of what he might find in the small town named Kinston.

  A road sign, appearing out of nowhere, soon emerged on the right side of the road. It read WELCOME TO KINSTON, THE GREATEST TOWN IN THE WORLD. Attached to the right side of the greeting sign, so clustered that they even extended off the board, were numerous wooden boards with text written on them. Next to the word GREATEST were other posted words such as FUNNIEST, SCARIEST, MOST WESTERN, and FRIENDLIEST. All of these adjectives were written in a variety of forms, colors, quality, and on diverse boards; obviously each being done by a different individual. The population, consisting of nearly five hundred, was posted beneath in ordinary form and untouched.

  Todd drove past the sign with no interest, although the existence of the many added boards tempted his curiosity. He had never heard of the town of Kinston before three days ago. After all, when his wife, Helen, had died, no one attempted to inform him that she was not pronounced dead in Stoffel, a neighboring city where Todd was taken to see the body. Nothing was explained to Todd. There was no time of death, no place of death, and no reasons behind her death. Worst of all, the people of Stoffel who had received Helen's body from Kinston were also unaware of the factors of her death. The only thing clear to Todd was that his wife died in the streets of Kinston.

  The outskirts of "the greatest town in the world" soon appeared on the horizon of low foliage. The first identifiable structure was a s
tone cathedral with a great crucifix planted on the flat top of its bell tower. The structure sat straight ahead, right down the stretching pavement, and soared high above the smaller buildings which lined the one visible road of Kinston. From first observation, Todd noted Kinston to be a homely town; rural enough to quietly raise a family and yet full-grown enough to hold modern characteristics that you wouldn't normally find in an outpost so far from civilization, much less one with nearly five hundred for a population.

  Shops and houses passed by Todd's car in blurry silhouettes. Stores had the distinct reputation of those in the simpler, primitive days with colored chalk advertisements of special prices in the windows, crates of fruit outside the doors for those strolling by to have their interests allured, and wide-open doors for any and all to willingly walk in. The sidewalks were sprinkled with a few passer-bys that continued with their daily routines, even while the only car on the street went by.

  Suddenly, Todd's eyes and attention were caught by a man standing in the middle of the road, straight in front of his cruising vehicle. Todd shrieked out of fright and immediately slammed on the brakes, just barely stopping in time to save the man's life, but the oddities did not end with that. The man in front of Todd's car was dressed in a furry, black and white mouse suit. Two big, round ears extended diagonally out from his head and a variety of make-up covered his entire face.

  "Are you Todd Morgan?" shouted the giant mouse-man. Todd rolled down his window, never taking his eyes from the amusing man or his mouse suit, and leaned his head out the window.

  "How did you know my name?" Todd asked, suddenly finding the mouse-man and himself to be the center of attention as everyone surrounding him, on the streets and the sidewalks, had broken out of their routine businesses and were, instead, staring their way. The mouse-man's expression grew joyous after confirming Todd's name.

  "Todd! Hey! How are ya?" the mouse man shouted in glee, "I'm here to help you! Your hotel is right over here. How long do you plan to stay?" The mouse-man pointed to his left where a red, faded brick building stood. Its one-story height intimidated Todd, inflicting on him a fear of low quality hotel rooms. Meanwhile, everyone on the street continued to watch and listen motionlessly as if the two were performing a public skit.

  "No more than a few days," Todd said softly, pressing his foot slowly down on the gas, driving right past the smiling mouse-man and into the hotel parking lot. If it were not for all the onlookers, Todd would have simply driven over the strange man at the start without as much as a glance. Nevertheless, upon making plans to visit Kinston and discover anything he could about his wife's final visit, Todd may have mistakenly mentioned his lack of knowledge of the place he was about to visit. Only then, while parking his car in the bare lot of the hotel, did Todd realize his fault in having practically asked for help from a stranger.

  "So can I help you with any luggage?" asked the mouse-man, impatiently, after jumping at Todd's open window. His eyes were filled with delight, and the dull-witted smile on the man's lips fit perfectly with the amateur make-up on his face. Todd looked the man up and down, finding him to have a stout build and distinct facial hair somewhere beneath all the make-up. He had a gentle face, and his invincible smile wrinkled his cheeks.

  "No, that's alright," Todd snapped harshly. The mouse-man, and his inescapable smile, had begun to grow on Todd's nerves long ago, but now his peppy attitude only seemed to increase as did Todd's determination to get away from him. Todd opened his door, nearly smacking right into the mouse-man with full intention, and stepped out before retrieving his suitcase from the backseat.

  "So where would you like to go first?" eagerly asked the mouse-man, gazing left and right at the surroundings buildings. "Oh, by the way, just call me Mike," he abruptly stated, outstretching his white glove generously to greet the newcomer. Todd frowned and walked away with annoyance. The lack of care in Todd's blood took him through the parking lot and around to the hotel's front doors while Mike followed close behind, still with his arm extended to shake hands.

  "I'd like a room for a few days," Todd said aloud towards the front desk in the lobby of the hotel, eager to escape the giant mouse. The lobby, while furnished with overly large couches, abstract paintings, and other bright décor, was so desolate and absent of motion, it resembled an exotic painting of still life, except for the one elderly woman behind the desk whose movements broke the stillness of the room. The geriatric woman pinched a monocle in front of her eye and gazed at Todd as if blind.

  Strangely, the old lady lifted her hand and dropped a key on the counter in front of Todd as her beady eyes fixed on him, delivering an unsettling vibe into his stomach. The wrinkles around the elderly woman's face drooped casually while she had, for quite a while, frozen in her place and continued to not move a single limb but the arm that dropped the room key. Todd felt that the woman might shatter into bits of wax if she fell over.

  Suddenly, Mike jumped up onto the counter and began singing and kicking his feet wildly, sending piles of papers and the hotel's bell flying through the air. The elderly woman took notice of this only to reach down behind the counter and pull out a boom box. She carefully set it down on the counter and turned on music to go along with Mike's dance. Todd stood confounded while Mike sang:

  When your feet are itchin' bad,

  don't wanna make your neighbors mad.

  Take your hat off and go down the street,

  where all the dancers love to meet.

  Sing a song for everyday,

  kick your feet in every way.

  Throw your cares in the garbage can,

  dance and swing like any man.

  Light the fire and throw a laugh,

  make a friend on his behalf.

  Tell a story, stay a while,

  nothin' else can beat a smile.

  Todd quickly snatched up the hotel key on the counter while Mike continued to dance to the boom box music. The aged woman, in a comical manner, pointed her fingers and danced subtly while the dignified expression on her wrinkled face remained. Not even knowing if the entertainment was over, Todd fled the lobby of the hotel and began exploring the numerous hallways in search of his room. The music still played as he inserted his key into the door, opened it, stepped inside, closed it, and quickly locked it.

  A sense of peace came over Todd as he looked into his dark hotel room. Subtly, he flipped on the lights and observed his new residency. The room was small but had a single, a tall writing desk with two shelves, a table with a cheap lamp on top, a television atop a television stand, and an air conditioner just beneath the only window in his room. Todd hung his jacket up in the open closet and walked over to his tidy bed unto which he placed his suitcase. The fuzzy teddy bear, who had accompanied Todd the entire trip, sat on one of the bed's pillows and turned its head from side to side to watch Todd.

  Opening his suitcase, he extracted clothing, nutritional bars, papers from work, and a large box. The cardboard container was made like a shoe box, but bigger, and was immediately given all of Todd's attention. The teddy bear sat quietly and watched as Todd set the box onto the work desk fortunately provided in each room. Todd opened the box and, from within, extracted a small ceramic house. The small piece was finely detailed and painted, with realistic decorations and colors. Todd stared at the small house for a minute, remembering how vivacious the paint once appeared.

  Easily holding back all emotions, Todd carefully set the delicate piece on top of the desk's top shelf at eye level. He then turned his attention back to the box where he removed building after building and aligned them all on the shelf the way they would align a street. Todd then pulled out a handful of ceramic townsfolk that he set down on the same shelf as the buildings. Each townsperson varied from their neighbor in color, shape, or some other distinct characteristic. The last thing that Todd pulled from the box was a miniature cathedral, ceramic like all the others, and just as carefully crafted as its companions. The crucifix at its peak was of an original design an
d as eye-catching as a decorated letter beginning a storybook.

  Todd brought the church down from in front of his face and saw Helen before him, placing the exact cathedral on their household mantel. Her eyes flared with happiness upon the sight of her newest addition to the collection. A row of miniature houses, stores, and other structures extended across the mantel while smaller figurines of people stood scattered about the picturesque town. There was no movement of the population's limbs, or of the church bells in the cathedral tower, but even if the tiniest of wheels turned in the imagination, the small township would blossom with unbridled life. It was everything that brought a mere smile to her lips.

  The sudden knock on Todd's door stole him away from his fantasy. A muffled voice bellowed in the hallway, driving Todd to relinquish his hold on the cathedral before hastily stumbling to the door. He unlocked the door and threw it open to find Mike standing in the hallway with his insane smile still stretching from cheek to cheek.

  "Hey Todd! Ready to go?" Mike asked. The cheer in his voice ripped into Todd's ears like the screeching of tires.

  "Go where?" Todd angrily asked with his temper slipping into his tone. His hand grasped the door, ready to fling it back into Mike's face.

  "Go through town, silly. I can guide you to people and places-"

  "Can you help me find the sheriff?" Todd interrupted; only interested in finding the one person who could help him understand what had happened to his wife.

  "Oh sure!" proclaimed Mike, "and you gotta meet my friend too! Arnold his name is." Todd ignored Mike's request.

  "You won't be singing anymore," Todd began with hesitation, "will you?" Mike tilted his head and widened his smile, which scared Todd even more than the mouse suit.

  "We'll see," Mike giggled, putting his white glove on Todd's shoulder. Todd glared at Mike's hand before shaking it off. Todd then looked his guide up and down; a grown man in a mouse suit.