The Forgotten Night
-A short story by Kate Slate
Tom Sullivan awoke with the song in his head. The song was getting louder, and the lyrics engraved themselves into his mind. It was a cruel song, and Tom had never particularly liked it. The time was far too early to be awake and he couldn't figure out where he was. Tom felt the bar that had constantly prodded his back during the night. He seemed to be on a cheap fold- out couch. The air was cold and unfamiliar.
Tom awoke with a strange feeling. He felt as if he had forgotten something important, and he couldn't figure out what it was.
Tom had to go to work for another nine hour shift, only to be paid a small amount of money. He pulled his blankets around him tighter. They rubbed against his face, causing him to flinch in pain. He seemed to have a large scrape across his cheek. His entire body felt like a giant bruise. He couldn't remember where he was last night. He suspected that he had gotten into a fight, but couldn't remember a thing about it. He couldn't find his pillow. After a moment of searching, he found it on the floor, sitting in the dust. It was still dark, but from the faint outline of the room he could tell that he was in the basement of uncle's house. He had obviously come in quite late the previous night, and had fallen asleep wearing everything he had worn that day, including his shoes. Unfortunately, poor Tom couldn't fall asleep again. His work shift began early. He was a police officer. To say that his job was exciting would have been a lie. Tom had never used his gun. He had never gotten the opportunity to race down the freeway at ninety miles per hour on his motorcycle, chasing a gang of law- breakers. In fact, poor Tom didn't own a motorcycle. He was petrified of them. Tom was a mere traffic cop. He was a traffic cop whose work shift began at six A.M. He stretched and rolled out of bed. He didn't bother to turn on the light, but blindly made his way up the stairs, into the kitchen, and tried not to wake his uncle.
Tom was staying at his uncle's house to care for the ill-fated man. He had Alzheimer's. Tom poured himself a glass of cranberry juice. He picked up his phone and called Anna to take her out to lunch. Tom had met Anna in his senior year of High School. At the time, he worked in a restaurant as a dishwasher. Anna's father owned the restaurant. Anna frequently stopped by and talked with him. She usually dried dishes for him, if she wasn't in a hurry. Tom had developed a deep affection for her after their first encounter with one another. The restaurant closed after a while, but, nine years later, Tom and Anna still continued to run into each other.
She didn't pick up. His lip curled as he wondered if she had spent the night at Gav's house.
Gav Harris was Anna's rock- climbing, motorcycle riding, and good looking boyfriend. He always seemed to be finding new and exciting ways to nearly kill himself. Tom hated him. Of course, he hated all of Anna's boyfriends, probably due to the fact that he wanted her for himself. He had never expressed his feelings to her.
Tom finished his cranberry juice. He needed to get ready for work. The song was still in his thoughts. He went to his tape collections and found his Beatles tape. He had bought the tape solely for the purpose of hearing the song that was relentlessly in his head. The song was on Rubber Soul. It was the last track. He turned up the volume.
"I'd rather see you dead, little girl than to be with another man," The Beatles sang.
Tom never had been able to find a difference between their voices.
He enjoyed work. He only had to stop one person for speeding. Tom liked it when people behaved. He listened to his Beatles collection in his car. Although it was a peaceful day, he was bothered by the thought that he had forgotten something.
Later that day, Tom was on his way to his uncle's from area he patrolled. He took a back road to make the trip quicker, but there was a small back- up in the road. Gav was the only person Tom had ever seen use the road. Tom wondered what was going on. Ambulance cars were lined up around what seemed to be an accident. Tom hoped that it hadn't been fatal.
He arrived at the house minutes later.
His uncle was sitting on the couch, staring into space when he walked in.
Clyde was once a loud man. He frequently drank and smoked. He and his wife divorced after six months of marriage. He lived in an apartment with Mrs. Hernandez, the illegal immigrant who took care of him.
Tom spent the afternoon fluffing uncle Clyde's pillow and watching the television. Clyde's favorite program was Days of Our Lives. Tom thought about what he might be missing, but it was hard to think with that blasted song still in his head.
Clyde fell asleep at five. Tom called his parents. They hadn't heard from him in a while. They didn't know that he was taking care of Clyde. Tom wanted them to stop by. They were still together after thirty years of marriage. His mother was a sad- eyed woman who played the organ at church. His father was Lucas Sullivan, chief of police. Luke was proud of Tom when he decided to join the police force. The phone rang three times, and the answering machine began. Tom hung up. He called Anna. The phone rang three times and he got her answering machine. He was getting worried.
He flipped to CNN. He watched a news report about a shortage of medical staff at the local hospital. CNN had a special news bulletin that teachers were on strike at an elementary school. He was falling asleep when he heard the tragic story that made his throat dry up and tears come to his eyes.
"The cause was an oil spill in the road. The two riders were traveling at about ninety miles an hour. Both wore helmets. Gavin Harris landed on his head, broke his neck and died instantly. Anna Leisure was knocked unconscious. She, fortunately, landed on the side of the road, in grass. Ms. Leisure is being cared for at St. Michael's hospital," said the news caster.
Tom hoped he had heard incorrectly. The news flowed though his head. He paced around frantically. He muttered nonsense. Then, as if out of some break of sanity, he got in his car and drove to the accident site. He got out of the car. It was cold and dark. He had a flashlight to allow him to see the road. He didn't know what he was looking for. Tom saw the oil stain in the road. He found blood scraped across the pavement. He wanted to leave.
It wasn't until he saw the rope that he remembered. It was casually thrown onto one side of the road. Tom threw up.
The previous night Anna had called him from a payphone. She told him that Gav had proposed to her that very morning. She didn't know how Tom felt about her. No one had asked how he felt. He felt like he was trapped in a soap opera. He felt like he was trapped in uncle Clyde's Days of Our Lives. Tom hated Gav. Tom hated himself. Maybe if he were as handsome or exciting as Gav was, perhaps he would be the one who had proposed to Anna. If only Tom could ride a motorcycle. Tom and Anna hung up the phone. He turned on his tape player and listened to the last track. "You better run for your life if you can little girl," the voices sang. He knew where Gav would be. Gav liked to go to the local gym and use the climbing wall. Tom had seen him there before. Both of them used the back road to get home. Out of a fit of rage, jealousy and temporary insanity, Tom got into his car with a large amount of rope, binoculars, a can of oil and a knife. He had a plan. He had seen it on the news at a young age, and he wanted to recreate it. The person who had committed the crime had been caught, but Tom vowed that he would be more careful. He sped to the back road. He parked his car a mile away from the site and brought his gear with him. He forgot his binoculars. He was at his site when he realized this. He cursed under his breath, and began to set up. He tied the rope from one side of the street. Tom had been a boy scout. He knew how to make a knot that would hold, but would be easy to untie. He let the rope hang to the ground. Tom took the oil and poured it into the road. He then took the other end of the rope and circled it around a tree and hid. Tom was absolutely exhilarated. Twenty minutes later Gav sped down the road. It was, of course, a back road. No one would be watching him. Gav, like any normal person, felt the urge to speed down the road, feel the wind in his face, and feel the miles passing under him. It fit well with Tom's plan.
The plan worked perfectly. As Gav passed by, Tom suddenly pulled the rope and held firm. Gav's bike hit the rope, causing him to hit the pavement. If only he had gone the speed limit. Tom was pulled forward by the impact, causing him to slam into a tree. His face scraped against the ground as he landed. Luckily, he was not knocked unconscious.
Unfortunately, however, poor Tom did not realize that Anna, the love of his life, was on the back of the bike. Anna amazingly survived the crash. She, unlike Gav, did not land on her head. She did not land on the pavement, either.
The crash had to have killed him, Tom thought. If not, he would have at least lost enough brain cells to not remember what happened.
Tom was horrified by what he had done. He had never committed a felony before.
He stood there, still staring at the rope in disbelief. He needed to see Anna.
Tom drove the speed limit to the hospital. Anna was awake. She smiled as he came in; apparently unaware that he had nearly killed her a night ago.
"How are you?" He asked
"Glad to be alive," she said with a smile.
"Sorry about Gav. He was a nice guy."
She frowned. "Poor Gav. I don't think I was really in love with him."
Anna continued, "When we were on the motorcycle, I decided that I had never really wanted to marry him."
She held his hand. "Strangely enough, at that instant when we crashed, I was sure that I was going to die, but all I could think about was you."
Gavin Harris's murder was never considered a murder by the police. No one ever suspected that Tom had killed him. Thoughts of the night haunted him, especially when he heard the last track on Rubber Soul. At those times, Tom couldn't move. He sat, sunken into deep depression. The guilt would haunt him forever. Tom felt horrible for killing poor Gav, but Tom really wasn't a bad guy. He was just temporarily insane.
-A short story by Kate Slate
Tom Sullivan awoke with the song in his head. The song was getting louder, and the lyrics engraved themselves into his mind. It was a cruel song, and Tom had never particularly liked it. The time was far too early to be awake and he couldn't figure out where he was. Tom felt the bar that had constantly prodded his back during the night. He seemed to be on a cheap fold- out couch. The air was cold and unfamiliar.
Tom awoke with a strange feeling. He felt as if he had forgotten something important, and he couldn't figure out what it was.
Tom had to go to work for another nine hour shift, only to be paid a small amount of money. He pulled his blankets around him tighter. They rubbed against his face, causing him to flinch in pain. He seemed to have a large scrape across his cheek. His entire body felt like a giant bruise. He couldn't remember where he was last night. He suspected that he had gotten into a fight, but couldn't remember a thing about it. He couldn't find his pillow. After a moment of searching, he found it on the floor, sitting in the dust. It was still dark, but from the faint outline of the room he could tell that he was in the basement of uncle's house. He had obviously come in quite late the previous night, and had fallen asleep wearing everything he had worn that day, including his shoes. Unfortunately, poor Tom couldn't fall asleep again. His work shift began early. He was a police officer. To say that his job was exciting would have been a lie. Tom had never used his gun. He had never gotten the opportunity to race down the freeway at ninety miles per hour on his motorcycle, chasing a gang of law- breakers. In fact, poor Tom didn't own a motorcycle. He was petrified of them. Tom was a mere traffic cop. He was a traffic cop whose work shift began at six A.M. He stretched and rolled out of bed. He didn't bother to turn on the light, but blindly made his way up the stairs, into the kitchen, and tried not to wake his uncle.
Tom was staying at his uncle's house to care for the ill-fated man. He had Alzheimer's. Tom poured himself a glass of cranberry juice. He picked up his phone and called Anna to take her out to lunch. Tom had met Anna in his senior year of High School. At the time, he worked in a restaurant as a dishwasher. Anna's father owned the restaurant. Anna frequently stopped by and talked with him. She usually dried dishes for him, if she wasn't in a hurry. Tom had developed a deep affection for her after their first encounter with one another. The restaurant closed after a while, but, nine years later, Tom and Anna still continued to run into each other.
She didn't pick up. His lip curled as he wondered if she had spent the night at Gav's house.
Gav Harris was Anna's rock- climbing, motorcycle riding, and good looking boyfriend. He always seemed to be finding new and exciting ways to nearly kill himself. Tom hated him. Of course, he hated all of Anna's boyfriends, probably due to the fact that he wanted her for himself. He had never expressed his feelings to her.
Tom finished his cranberry juice. He needed to get ready for work. The song was still in his thoughts. He went to his tape collections and found his Beatles tape. He had bought the tape solely for the purpose of hearing the song that was relentlessly in his head. The song was on Rubber Soul. It was the last track. He turned up the volume.
"I'd rather see you dead, little girl than to be with another man," The Beatles sang.
Tom never had been able to find a difference between their voices.
He enjoyed work. He only had to stop one person for speeding. Tom liked it when people behaved. He listened to his Beatles collection in his car. Although it was a peaceful day, he was bothered by the thought that he had forgotten something.
Later that day, Tom was on his way to his uncle's from area he patrolled. He took a back road to make the trip quicker, but there was a small back- up in the road. Gav was the only person Tom had ever seen use the road. Tom wondered what was going on. Ambulance cars were lined up around what seemed to be an accident. Tom hoped that it hadn't been fatal.
He arrived at the house minutes later.
His uncle was sitting on the couch, staring into space when he walked in.
Clyde was once a loud man. He frequently drank and smoked. He and his wife divorced after six months of marriage. He lived in an apartment with Mrs. Hernandez, the illegal immigrant who took care of him.
Tom spent the afternoon fluffing uncle Clyde's pillow and watching the television. Clyde's favorite program was Days of Our Lives. Tom thought about what he might be missing, but it was hard to think with that blasted song still in his head.
Clyde fell asleep at five. Tom called his parents. They hadn't heard from him in a while. They didn't know that he was taking care of Clyde. Tom wanted them to stop by. They were still together after thirty years of marriage. His mother was a sad- eyed woman who played the organ at church. His father was Lucas Sullivan, chief of police. Luke was proud of Tom when he decided to join the police force. The phone rang three times, and the answering machine began. Tom hung up. He called Anna. The phone rang three times and he got her answering machine. He was getting worried.
He flipped to CNN. He watched a news report about a shortage of medical staff at the local hospital. CNN had a special news bulletin that teachers were on strike at an elementary school. He was falling asleep when he heard the tragic story that made his throat dry up and tears come to his eyes.
"The cause was an oil spill in the road. The two riders were traveling at about ninety miles an hour. Both wore helmets. Gavin Harris landed on his head, broke his neck and died instantly. Anna Leisure was knocked unconscious. She, fortunately, landed on the side of the road, in grass. Ms. Leisure is being cared for at St. Michael's hospital," said the news caster.
Tom hoped he had heard incorrectly. The news flowed though his head. He paced around frantically. He muttered nonsense. Then, as if out of some break of sanity, he got in his car and drove to the accident site. He got out of the car. It was cold and dark. He had a flashlight to allow him to see the road. He didn't know what he was looking for. Tom saw the oil stain in the road. He found blood scraped across the pavement. He wanted to leave.
It wasn't until he saw the rope that he remembered. It was casually thrown onto one side of the road. Tom threw up.
The previous night Anna had called him from a payphone. She told him that Gav had proposed to her that very morning. She didn't know how Tom felt about her. No one had asked how he felt. He felt like he was trapped in a soap opera. He felt like he was trapped in uncle Clyde's Days of Our Lives. Tom hated Gav. Tom hated himself. Maybe if he were as handsome or exciting as Gav was, perhaps he would be the one who had proposed to Anna. If only Tom could ride a motorcycle. Tom and Anna hung up the phone. He turned on his tape player and listened to the last track. "You better run for your life if you can little girl," the voices sang. He knew where Gav would be. Gav liked to go to the local gym and use the climbing wall. Tom had seen him there before. Both of them used the back road to get home. Out of a fit of rage, jealousy and temporary insanity, Tom got into his car with a large amount of rope, binoculars, a can of oil and a knife. He had a plan. He had seen it on the news at a young age, and he wanted to recreate it. The person who had committed the crime had been caught, but Tom vowed that he would be more careful. He sped to the back road. He parked his car a mile away from the site and brought his gear with him. He forgot his binoculars. He was at his site when he realized this. He cursed under his breath, and began to set up. He tied the rope from one side of the street. Tom had been a boy scout. He knew how to make a knot that would hold, but would be easy to untie. He let the rope hang to the ground. Tom took the oil and poured it into the road. He then took the other end of the rope and circled it around a tree and hid. Tom was absolutely exhilarated. Twenty minutes later Gav sped down the road. It was, of course, a back road. No one would be watching him. Gav, like any normal person, felt the urge to speed down the road, feel the wind in his face, and feel the miles passing under him. It fit well with Tom's plan.
The plan worked perfectly. As Gav passed by, Tom suddenly pulled the rope and held firm. Gav's bike hit the rope, causing him to hit the pavement. If only he had gone the speed limit. Tom was pulled forward by the impact, causing him to slam into a tree. His face scraped against the ground as he landed. Luckily, he was not knocked unconscious.
Unfortunately, however, poor Tom did not realize that Anna, the love of his life, was on the back of the bike. Anna amazingly survived the crash. She, unlike Gav, did not land on her head. She did not land on the pavement, either.
The crash had to have killed him, Tom thought. If not, he would have at least lost enough brain cells to not remember what happened.
Tom was horrified by what he had done. He had never committed a felony before.
He stood there, still staring at the rope in disbelief. He needed to see Anna.
Tom drove the speed limit to the hospital. Anna was awake. She smiled as he came in; apparently unaware that he had nearly killed her a night ago.
"How are you?" He asked
"Glad to be alive," she said with a smile.
"Sorry about Gav. He was a nice guy."
She frowned. "Poor Gav. I don't think I was really in love with him."
Anna continued, "When we were on the motorcycle, I decided that I had never really wanted to marry him."
She held his hand. "Strangely enough, at that instant when we crashed, I was sure that I was going to die, but all I could think about was you."
Gavin Harris's murder was never considered a murder by the police. No one ever suspected that Tom had killed him. Thoughts of the night haunted him, especially when he heard the last track on Rubber Soul. At those times, Tom couldn't move. He sat, sunken into deep depression. The guilt would haunt him forever. Tom felt horrible for killing poor Gav, but Tom really wasn't a bad guy. He was just temporarily insane.