Whispers in the Night
By Nick Byrd
It was just an ordinary night in Houston, Texas... Another night for me trying to find a comfort from sleep when it did not want to have anything to do with me. The ceiling seemed nearly comforting enough for a while as the pale light from the moon poured in the small window, providing a bit of light for my mind to play with. Crystal's silent body on the other side of the bed kept a steady rhythm in her breathing, having found the rest that I so longed for. But the facts were the facts, and I was an insomniac.
I turned my head to the window and looked out across the empty, silent street. Nobody in their right mind was awake, but I was a different case. Something kept me going beyond my natural hours, something more powerful than me. I reckon I wanted to sleep, but I knew that wasn't gonna happen any time soon... Night was like day to me then; I saw no real need to sleep.
Slowly I sat up on the edge of my bed. It just wouldn't be right for me to spend my waking hours dormant in some lazy sleep. There'd be plenty of time to get rest when I was dead, and in my "profession," I never knew how close or how far away that would be. And besides, why try foolin' myself into thinking I would sleep any time soon when I knew from experience how far that would get me?
So I got up and walked through the half luminated room to the dresser. I looked at my face in the mirror; I didn't see any tiredness in my eyes, or at least if there was, I wasn't detecting it. Something about those eyes staring back at me... those cold, blue eyes... even I could see right then that there was something behind them, and while I couldn't tell what they were trying to convey, I knew that it was stormy inside. The depths of my emotions were never completely still; no. I had gone through too much in my earlier days for that to be; and I knew that I would still go through more.
Once more my eyes wandered about the dim room. Peace was in it from corner to corner; nauseating peace. It gave me a sense that simply my being there would throw off it's perfection, that I posed a threat to its delicate balance. Anyways, at that point of the night, it hadn't soaked into me. Silently I slipped on my leather gloves, Stetson, and holster, and without much other thought of it. This was going to be a long night, but like I said a'fore, nothing new to me. One more time I tiptoed across the room, this time to Crystal's side of the bed. I lay a small kiss on her cheek, and maybe it was just my imagination, but somehow it almost looked like she smiled at it... but she was still asleep, enjoying her gift to dream. 'course, I had nothing wrong with that; I always wanted my wife to be happy.
As I left that room to its peaceful self, I stepped into the dark living room of our small house. The image of a small digital clock in the kitchen cut through that darkness, showing me that it was then 11:47. The night was pretty young still, so I had plenty of time to step out for a while. It didn't seem wrong for me to do so; after all, why invest the night in dreams that, in the end, were nothing short of vanity when one can spend them in the real, where something may be gained and appreciated after the morning?
The front door creaked lightly on its hinges as I slowly pushed it open and closed it behind me. The residential street on which we lived was nearly as peaceful as my bedroom, which gave me the feeling that once again I didn't fit in there. But as I took in more of the environment, I didn't care as much. Streetlights burned overhead, casting a yellowish-orange light on much of the ground and causing a small buzz, attracting small insects... A typical, albeit warm summer wind blew over my body soothingly... Already I felt called to the night.
I sauntered west on my resident street, Cottonwood St., until I hit Harkey Road. Two cars passed by me in the process, but besides that I saw no other signs of life. Nobody cared for night prowling anymore; they made themselves too busied with politics and other worthless things to really care for such things. Maybe it was just 'cause I didn't have a head for it that I stayed away from it and didn't care; maybe there was some aspect about it that I didn't see that made it attractive... But if that were the case, I reckon that it was the same way for them when they looked at me and what I did... Yet they did talk about me at times. I'm not sure if it was ever exactly a good thing... I can still remember some of what they said about me.
"Obscure... worthless... replaceable... odd." The world once knew about what I did, but nowadays, they just didn't care for me much. They had bigger things to worry about, so I hear.
I wanted to get downtown before morning, and going by foot wasn't the way to do so. I guess I got pretty lucky, 'cause I managed to flag down a taxi before I hit the 518. Driver wasn't the most friendly person I'd met, but I didn't care. People never were friendly to me, why would they be? I was scum to most folks. I honestly didn't care. If they wanted to hate me, it was fine by me; they weren't gonna change what I did.
"Traitor... coldhearted... evil... reject... failure." None of it was new to me.
Downtown was a good deal more welcoming to me right then that the more peaceful side of town. Cars were making there way down the streets at all times, though not so much as to cause traffic. There was more noise, more life... and for a while I felt like I could fit in with the crowd. But that was an odd thought, because nobody noticed each other much on the city streets. At least I felt average there.
At length I decided to walk into the Deerborn Inn and Tavern, one of my past-favorite places to spend the nights. I had myself a Ginger-Ale while I sat alone at the corner table. The place looked like a normal, higher-class bar, but for me it held a few strong memories... I knew I would never fall asleep in that place again. I had my worst nightmare there... There's nothing worse than the thought of loosing your own wife... especially when it's your fault... It may have just been a dream, but it did reflect back on other things said about me.
"Uncaring... loveless... solo." Funny, before I got married, I thought that those were all good things... Now, I know they're untrue, but obviously other people don't see that.
The clock up on the wall informed me that it was getting later... Time was 12:38. I guess I stayed in that place longer than I planned. That's what happens when memories come flooding back to you about a certain place you're in. But I decided that memories were in the past and should stay there, so I left.
Streets had lost some of their life outside now. But it was still not dead. I decided to walk North some more, along McKinnley Street. A yawn came to my mouth; I guess that all the time I spent in the Deerborn did a good bit to take my concentration away from all my energy. The air was still warm and comforting, however, and the sounds of the cars passing by provided a strange form of music to my now-slightly-tired head.
The things that people said about me became suddenly very clear as I passed by the now dark Sam Houston Park. There wasn't much to see, but at one point I detected five pairs of eyes glowing in the night, bodyless in the dark, staring at me. I froze in my spot and stared back, coldly as I could. It was the only way I knew. It was clear to me, they knew who I was, and they didn't like me. I guess I didn't like them either, but I had no clue who they were, but whoever they were, they were trying to threaten me. The staring match went on and on; a few minutes is my estimate. They didn't let up, and neither did I. No words or sounds were exchanged between us, but why would they be needed? Our faces could show enough. So I gave them more; my grin, complete with my family's birthmark, my fang to which I owed one of my most well known names. Slowly, one by one, each set of the eyes disappeared. Yes, they did know who I was, and I could almost hear their thoughts...
"Murderer... evildoer... destroyer... backstabber... cheapskate... thief... criminal." I grit my teeth slightly as those words, amongst a flood of others, came to mind. They made me sound worse than I really was. It was my job; I get paid, I do the deed. Part of me didn't know why they all hated me when they could just hate my "employers," but to my other half, it seemed somewhat clear. I was the one who did it because my employers were to afraid to take the rap for it.
Again I turned to walk down the street. It was quieter now; the city was beginning to truly sleep. I sighed, half from the departure of my insomnia, half from a sudden pain inside. I hated it when I realized what the world thought of me. It wasn't fair, I don't think. I couldn't even find favor from my employers. The numbers of those who could care for me... I think that at that point I could count them on my fingers. Money couldn't buy friends... and even then, it wasn't my best friend. We were pretty poor, not having been sent on any "business" lately. But I reckon it wasn't a problem; there are always folks out there searching for a good bounty hunter, and when it came to that, I was known as the best. And if I couldn't find anyone, I could take my chances with the police... Sometimes they wanted my head for a bounty, but other times I was their best assets.
One last stop I took that night was outside of the downtown area. It was an area that I hadn't looked at in over two years now... The mine. Gold lay deep in it, I knew that much. I tried to get it once, and died doing so. Well... maybe I didn't die. I'm not sure how I came back from being clinically dead, having fallen part-ways down the mineshaft and nearly bled to death, but I guess I should just consider myself lucky. Others did too... They thought that they almost got lucky but lost when I survived. Yep. The world was almost rid of me because of my own thirst for financial gain.
"Greedy, stupid, ignorant, nosey, dishonest, disrespectful..." Yeah, I guess I had to agree with them that time. I didn't have any place in an abandoned gold mine.
I hitched another ride with a taxi. I didn't get no more warmth in that one than I did in the first. Maybe he snorted at me in disgust, maybe he didn't... I wasn't paying much attention. After all, why should I have cared? If he hated me too, whoopdy-doo; another tally in the vast crowd. I didn't want to think about it right then; there was too much negativity from my own home city as it was right then. I gave him my directions to get me home, and he complied silently, but it wasn't a friendly kind of silent.
The ride was uneventful and short for the distance traveled. I got out of the car, tipped him, and turned to my house. There may have been a good deal of rest done after death, but when you truly do get tired at that hour of night, it does seem rather welcome to get an early dose of it. The house's interior was just as dead quiet as it was when I left... but there was a new air about it. The first thing I saw through the dimness was the closed door to Nic and Andre's room. We shared the house, so I guess there was some trust there... and I knew deep down that they didn't hate me...
"Brother, friend, partner, in-law, competition." I almost laughed at that last one as it came to my head. Nic and I... She's my dear sister and my worst "enemy" when it comes to my profession. As if it weren't enough that she were my younger twin sister, she was always trying to out-do me in the missions she got, always looking for bigger and better things to do. I got mad at her at times, but I owe it to her for keeping me sharp in my own skills. And I know that she cared for me. Andre too, I guess... well, he respected me, mostly out of fear. I still don't know if he got that foolishness about me being some sort of ghost out of his head.... Heh, but the guy respected me.
I found myself smiling at those thoughts as I re-entered my and Crystal's room. The moon was still flooding in the window, and everything was still as peaceful as it was when I left. Before I went to my spot in the bed, I stepped over to a crib which was against one of the walls. In it lay Trent, my own infant son. I smiled at that. I loved him deeply... I reckon the world wouldn't believe that even if they saw me right then. But I didn't care.
"Father..." That was the only word that came to my mind then, but there was great comfort in it.
I took my spot in bed, glad for it now. Again I yawned, ready to sleep at last. Crystal had already been there and didn't seem to have stirred. Again I lay a small kiss on her, and again I think she smiled. I sure did. I know she loved me... she saved my life once. And, after all, she did marry me.
"Husband, lover, soul-mate..." Yep. I was more than happy with that one. The world could say what they wanted, but that didn't change the facts that I knew I could love and was loved.
Before sleep closed my eyes, I turned the other way to look at my nightstand... the numbers 2:14 burned in the dark; I had done a lot of walking that night. Didn't leave me much time to sleep, but it was good for me to grab at whatever I could get now that I didn't feel so wired. Yeah, I was a being just as much as the rest of those in the world and I needed certain things to some degrees; it wasn't like I was some alien from outer space. I am Nack the Weasel, Fang the Sniper, Jet the Bountyhunter... Look down on me now, world! At least I know you're looking... But please do try to get the facts straight about what I'm really like...
My eyes took one last detour that night... from the clock to two objects next to it. One was a picture of Mama, who I lost when Nic and I were only eight years old (Rest in Peace, Mama.). The other was my Bible...
"Son."
It was just an ordinary night in Houston, Texas... Another night for me trying to find a comfort from sleep when it did not want to have anything to do with me. The ceiling seemed nearly comforting enough for a while as the pale light from the moon poured in the small window, providing a bit of light for my mind to play with. Crystal's silent body on the other side of the bed kept a steady rhythm in her breathing, having found the rest that I so longed for. But the facts were the facts, and I was an insomniac.
I turned my head to the window and looked out across the empty, silent street. Nobody in their right mind was awake, but I was a different case. Something kept me going beyond my natural hours, something more powerful than me. I reckon I wanted to sleep, but I knew that wasn't gonna happen any time soon... Night was like day to me then; I saw no real need to sleep.
Slowly I sat up on the edge of my bed. It just wouldn't be right for me to spend my waking hours dormant in some lazy sleep. There'd be plenty of time to get rest when I was dead, and in my "profession," I never knew how close or how far away that would be. And besides, why try foolin' myself into thinking I would sleep any time soon when I knew from experience how far that would get me?
So I got up and walked through the half luminated room to the dresser. I looked at my face in the mirror; I didn't see any tiredness in my eyes, or at least if there was, I wasn't detecting it. Something about those eyes staring back at me... those cold, blue eyes... even I could see right then that there was something behind them, and while I couldn't tell what they were trying to convey, I knew that it was stormy inside. The depths of my emotions were never completely still; no. I had gone through too much in my earlier days for that to be; and I knew that I would still go through more.
Once more my eyes wandered about the dim room. Peace was in it from corner to corner; nauseating peace. It gave me a sense that simply my being there would throw off it's perfection, that I posed a threat to its delicate balance. Anyways, at that point of the night, it hadn't soaked into me. Silently I slipped on my leather gloves, Stetson, and holster, and without much other thought of it. This was going to be a long night, but like I said a'fore, nothing new to me. One more time I tiptoed across the room, this time to Crystal's side of the bed. I lay a small kiss on her cheek, and maybe it was just my imagination, but somehow it almost looked like she smiled at it... but she was still asleep, enjoying her gift to dream. 'course, I had nothing wrong with that; I always wanted my wife to be happy.
As I left that room to its peaceful self, I stepped into the dark living room of our small house. The image of a small digital clock in the kitchen cut through that darkness, showing me that it was then 11:47. The night was pretty young still, so I had plenty of time to step out for a while. It didn't seem wrong for me to do so; after all, why invest the night in dreams that, in the end, were nothing short of vanity when one can spend them in the real, where something may be gained and appreciated after the morning?
The front door creaked lightly on its hinges as I slowly pushed it open and closed it behind me. The residential street on which we lived was nearly as peaceful as my bedroom, which gave me the feeling that once again I didn't fit in there. But as I took in more of the environment, I didn't care as much. Streetlights burned overhead, casting a yellowish-orange light on much of the ground and causing a small buzz, attracting small insects... A typical, albeit warm summer wind blew over my body soothingly... Already I felt called to the night.
I sauntered west on my resident street, Cottonwood St., until I hit Harkey Road. Two cars passed by me in the process, but besides that I saw no other signs of life. Nobody cared for night prowling anymore; they made themselves too busied with politics and other worthless things to really care for such things. Maybe it was just 'cause I didn't have a head for it that I stayed away from it and didn't care; maybe there was some aspect about it that I didn't see that made it attractive... But if that were the case, I reckon that it was the same way for them when they looked at me and what I did... Yet they did talk about me at times. I'm not sure if it was ever exactly a good thing... I can still remember some of what they said about me.
"Obscure... worthless... replaceable... odd." The world once knew about what I did, but nowadays, they just didn't care for me much. They had bigger things to worry about, so I hear.
I wanted to get downtown before morning, and going by foot wasn't the way to do so. I guess I got pretty lucky, 'cause I managed to flag down a taxi before I hit the 518. Driver wasn't the most friendly person I'd met, but I didn't care. People never were friendly to me, why would they be? I was scum to most folks. I honestly didn't care. If they wanted to hate me, it was fine by me; they weren't gonna change what I did.
"Traitor... coldhearted... evil... reject... failure." None of it was new to me.
Downtown was a good deal more welcoming to me right then that the more peaceful side of town. Cars were making there way down the streets at all times, though not so much as to cause traffic. There was more noise, more life... and for a while I felt like I could fit in with the crowd. But that was an odd thought, because nobody noticed each other much on the city streets. At least I felt average there.
At length I decided to walk into the Deerborn Inn and Tavern, one of my past-favorite places to spend the nights. I had myself a Ginger-Ale while I sat alone at the corner table. The place looked like a normal, higher-class bar, but for me it held a few strong memories... I knew I would never fall asleep in that place again. I had my worst nightmare there... There's nothing worse than the thought of loosing your own wife... especially when it's your fault... It may have just been a dream, but it did reflect back on other things said about me.
"Uncaring... loveless... solo." Funny, before I got married, I thought that those were all good things... Now, I know they're untrue, but obviously other people don't see that.
The clock up on the wall informed me that it was getting later... Time was 12:38. I guess I stayed in that place longer than I planned. That's what happens when memories come flooding back to you about a certain place you're in. But I decided that memories were in the past and should stay there, so I left.
Streets had lost some of their life outside now. But it was still not dead. I decided to walk North some more, along McKinnley Street. A yawn came to my mouth; I guess that all the time I spent in the Deerborn did a good bit to take my concentration away from all my energy. The air was still warm and comforting, however, and the sounds of the cars passing by provided a strange form of music to my now-slightly-tired head.
The things that people said about me became suddenly very clear as I passed by the now dark Sam Houston Park. There wasn't much to see, but at one point I detected five pairs of eyes glowing in the night, bodyless in the dark, staring at me. I froze in my spot and stared back, coldly as I could. It was the only way I knew. It was clear to me, they knew who I was, and they didn't like me. I guess I didn't like them either, but I had no clue who they were, but whoever they were, they were trying to threaten me. The staring match went on and on; a few minutes is my estimate. They didn't let up, and neither did I. No words or sounds were exchanged between us, but why would they be needed? Our faces could show enough. So I gave them more; my grin, complete with my family's birthmark, my fang to which I owed one of my most well known names. Slowly, one by one, each set of the eyes disappeared. Yes, they did know who I was, and I could almost hear their thoughts...
"Murderer... evildoer... destroyer... backstabber... cheapskate... thief... criminal." I grit my teeth slightly as those words, amongst a flood of others, came to mind. They made me sound worse than I really was. It was my job; I get paid, I do the deed. Part of me didn't know why they all hated me when they could just hate my "employers," but to my other half, it seemed somewhat clear. I was the one who did it because my employers were to afraid to take the rap for it.
Again I turned to walk down the street. It was quieter now; the city was beginning to truly sleep. I sighed, half from the departure of my insomnia, half from a sudden pain inside. I hated it when I realized what the world thought of me. It wasn't fair, I don't think. I couldn't even find favor from my employers. The numbers of those who could care for me... I think that at that point I could count them on my fingers. Money couldn't buy friends... and even then, it wasn't my best friend. We were pretty poor, not having been sent on any "business" lately. But I reckon it wasn't a problem; there are always folks out there searching for a good bounty hunter, and when it came to that, I was known as the best. And if I couldn't find anyone, I could take my chances with the police... Sometimes they wanted my head for a bounty, but other times I was their best assets.
One last stop I took that night was outside of the downtown area. It was an area that I hadn't looked at in over two years now... The mine. Gold lay deep in it, I knew that much. I tried to get it once, and died doing so. Well... maybe I didn't die. I'm not sure how I came back from being clinically dead, having fallen part-ways down the mineshaft and nearly bled to death, but I guess I should just consider myself lucky. Others did too... They thought that they almost got lucky but lost when I survived. Yep. The world was almost rid of me because of my own thirst for financial gain.
"Greedy, stupid, ignorant, nosey, dishonest, disrespectful..." Yeah, I guess I had to agree with them that time. I didn't have any place in an abandoned gold mine.
I hitched another ride with a taxi. I didn't get no more warmth in that one than I did in the first. Maybe he snorted at me in disgust, maybe he didn't... I wasn't paying much attention. After all, why should I have cared? If he hated me too, whoopdy-doo; another tally in the vast crowd. I didn't want to think about it right then; there was too much negativity from my own home city as it was right then. I gave him my directions to get me home, and he complied silently, but it wasn't a friendly kind of silent.
The ride was uneventful and short for the distance traveled. I got out of the car, tipped him, and turned to my house. There may have been a good deal of rest done after death, but when you truly do get tired at that hour of night, it does seem rather welcome to get an early dose of it. The house's interior was just as dead quiet as it was when I left... but there was a new air about it. The first thing I saw through the dimness was the closed door to Nic and Andre's room. We shared the house, so I guess there was some trust there... and I knew deep down that they didn't hate me...
"Brother, friend, partner, in-law, competition." I almost laughed at that last one as it came to my head. Nic and I... She's my dear sister and my worst "enemy" when it comes to my profession. As if it weren't enough that she were my younger twin sister, she was always trying to out-do me in the missions she got, always looking for bigger and better things to do. I got mad at her at times, but I owe it to her for keeping me sharp in my own skills. And I know that she cared for me. Andre too, I guess... well, he respected me, mostly out of fear. I still don't know if he got that foolishness about me being some sort of ghost out of his head.... Heh, but the guy respected me.
I found myself smiling at those thoughts as I re-entered my and Crystal's room. The moon was still flooding in the window, and everything was still as peaceful as it was when I left. Before I went to my spot in the bed, I stepped over to a crib which was against one of the walls. In it lay Trent, my own infant son. I smiled at that. I loved him deeply... I reckon the world wouldn't believe that even if they saw me right then. But I didn't care.
"Father..." That was the only word that came to my mind then, but there was great comfort in it.
I took my spot in bed, glad for it now. Again I yawned, ready to sleep at last. Crystal had already been there and didn't seem to have stirred. Again I lay a small kiss on her, and again I think she smiled. I sure did. I know she loved me... she saved my life once. And, after all, she did marry me.
"Husband, lover, soul-mate..." Yep. I was more than happy with that one. The world could say what they wanted, but that didn't change the facts that I knew I could love and was loved.
Before sleep closed my eyes, I turned the other way to look at my nightstand... the numbers 2:14 burned in the dark; I had done a lot of walking that night. Didn't leave me much time to sleep, but it was good for me to grab at whatever I could get now that I didn't feel so wired. Yeah, I was a being just as much as the rest of those in the world and I needed certain things to some degrees; it wasn't like I was some alien from outer space. I am Nack the Weasel, Fang the Sniper, Jet the Bountyhunter... Look down on me now, world! At least I know you're looking... But please do try to get the facts straight about what I'm really like...
My eyes took one last detour that night... from the clock to two objects next to it. One was a picture of Mama, who I lost when Nic and I were only eight years old (Rest in Peace, Mama.). The other was my Bible...
"Son."