Thomas’ Computer: a short story loosely based on real events
Chapter 8:"The Walker"

Red was a weathered old paramedic. He had been doing it for 30 years now. Like his father before him he enlisted in the military as soon as the government would take him. His brother Richard Lighten choose the easier path to the disappointment and estrangement of his father.
“These kids now-a-days haven’t seen nothing,” Red slurred to the man next to him at the Rooster bar responding to his unasked question. Red Lighten was gruff, and sometimes a difficult man. Like a child that really never got over not getting what he wanted for Christmas
“I mean come on, this one newbie almost puked trying to take this guys pulse tonight,” the man next to him, wallowing in his own problems, mumbled a quite agreement. “When I was his age I was pulling shrapnel out of people’s chests, holding children’s innards and intestines and then ate a full breakfast…pish… kids… no stomach,” as Red mumbled other accusations against the new E.M.T. the bar door opened with a slow and annoying scratching sound also letting in the cold and with it a man who seemed to be wrapped in the dark of night.

“Shut the door! Man alive” yelled a now belligerent Red to the mysterious man in the door way. “Kids today don’t even know how to close doors… no stomach…born in a barn.” Red continued to mumble and stutter other grievances.

The walker moved with precise and purposed steps from the door to a seat at a table four feet from the drunken paramedic. Though Red gave no consideration or showed any concern for the Walker presence. However, the others in the bar became immediately uncomfortable with the strangers overshadowing presence. The walker said nothing to the waitress who asked for his order; glad to be done with her duty she hurried away to the back to retrieve more beers for the now quite customers. Dressed like some demon cowboy with a used cowboy hat that masked his face, he wore a heavy coat that hung to his body like sin. The only noise that escaped the shroud of darkness that covered his face was the heavy breathing of unforeseen dread, like air itself was trying to get away for fear of being swallowed by the walker. With unseeing eyes he slowly turned to the paramedic only feet from him.

“Lighten?” the sound of his voice was like crude oil slipping down a smooth pipe. If the bar was silent before he spoke it was now utterly catatonic now. To the people around him he sounded like death himself, as if with a single word he could call down evil to do his bidding.

“What? Whhhho..? I’m a veteran!” not knowing to whom to address he spoke more to the whole bar than to anyone specific. in the silent bar he was taken aback by how loud he sounded. “What in the desert hare is going on,” starting to realize his surroundings, he sobered quickly.

“Lighten?” again the walker spoke but this time emphasizing his want for a reply.

Finally seeing who was addressing him he could feel a cold hand clawing down his throat reaching for his very heart. A chill from the bottom of his conscience to the top of mind struck him and an unwanted shudder took him. “YYesss,” replied the frightened man, “what yuu waughnt.” Without further announcement or conversation the walker slowly, methodically got up from his chair and walked to the door with a slow look over his shoulder.

As the walker’s weapons systems fixed on poor Red as he walked slowly home, he proceeded to follow him out of town. As he climbed deftly over the rim of the ditch he had been hiding in, he heard the last dying breath of the young man he found earlier that night. Without meaning to kill the boy, who claimed to be a healer or medic or something, the walker had removed his legs to ensure he would go nowhere. Apparently human’s can die with the removal of limbs. The now legless horse appeared to have died hours before, suffering from the same apparent lack of blood the man did.

Thomas’ Computer: a short story loosely based on real events
Chapter 7:"decisions"

Like an eerie lost ghost looking for a soul to torment, the wind blew against the cowboy’s gently thinning hair. A shock ran up the cowboy’s spine and as raised dots covered his tan and aged skin he looked 10 years older than he actually was. The moon spread out its cold chilly fingers on the earth trying to catch any exposed flesh. The storm had left several trees missing it branches and several homes which in turn found them coming through there ceilings. Before, the clouds had acted as a warm blanket over the earth trapping in the warmth and not letting it escape out to space as it so desperately wanted to do. Now that the clouds have gone the once captive heat was free to go and with it left all comfort. The cowboy was sitting rather uncomfortably behind an emergency vehicle with is shirt front ripped open exposing his white chest to the elements while the new paramedic was taking his pulse. The cowboy was amazed at how the stars felt so close to him at this point, like he could reach up and touch them with his finger, if gentle enough he might even pull one down and keep it like a boy would do to a captured frog or bug. “Breath,” harshly asked the older, rough looking medical technician.

They thought I had a heart attack just then, he said to himself. Maybe I had. I mean I hope I did, if didn’t then what happened to me? For the last hour the cowboy had been arguing with himself, wondering if this was all a figment of his imagination or was he really hearing people in his head and talking to men in spaceships.

“Charlie!” exclaimed the Cowboy loudly. The M.T.’s, believing this to be the sign of another heart attack, held him down as he tried to get up. He had forgotten that he left Charlie in the outskirts of town thinking he would only be in town for an hour and it had all ready been 4.

“He’s my horse you idiot,” and with much grunting and cursing the cowboy rose to his feet. He must have been unsteady for the techs swiftly grabbed each arm and tried to lead the stubborn old man to his seat. Not knowing if he should go back for his horse, who was his best friend. As his mind was trying to urge his body to go back for Charlie, he felt an urgent need to go back to the house he delivered that package to. He was torn between the two. For some reason he had it in his mind that he would never see his dear old friend ever again.

“Look can you do me a favor? There is a horse outside of town and by the looks of you he won’t like you a’bit but can you fetch ‘em for me?” as the confused techs watched their patient run down the street they heard “his name is Charlie damn it and make sure you get it right.”

As the strange cowboy vanished behind a set of homes the older MT said to the younger, “well if that didn’t happen as often as it does; I would’ve thought that was very weird.” As the stricken green MT climbed back into the vehicle a faint echoing howl swept across the street giving the town a horror movie feel that he did not like at all.

“That sounds really close you know? How far do you think?” Mumbled the newbie

“Who cares? I’m calling it a night.” He didn't liked this kid anyway.

The Greatest Trick

I am currently studying for a youth rally that I am afraid will fail for some unforeseen reason. There is no proof or reason but I somehow feel that this will not go by smoothly. I’m studying the cross of Christ and its impact on people in their daily lives. Josh Tucker is doing the other lesson and I have complete faith that he will do his part with quality and purpose. I look at the life that Jesus led and all of the sacrifices that he made while he was still on earth and I shudder to think that I would last as long as Jesus did. Three years is a miracle that I could never achieve or duplicate. Sometimes I wonder what it is I am doing here on earth, trying to be a minster in world that is clearly not caring how and where it is going. I am sitting here listening to a gaggle of boys pretending to talk like men, or at least what they think men talk like. I cannot help but feel sorry for them and their obvious blinding of the world’s control over their “free choices”. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, “THIS IS NOT REALITY!” I know they would not listen, instead they will retreat deeper into their subconscious routines and belief structures that have trained them from birth to accept this as reality. However, in their speech I still hear doubt and searching for what “real”, like an infant trying out new words and seeking correctness from its parents. I pray that God gives us the courage to help people see what reality is and what captivity does. May the lost see the light and may we be bright enough to show them.

All great nations fall

I like most of you are scared about where our country is going and how fast it’s going there. I try my best to remain politically neutral when it comes to politics. I don’t believe that the United States is the church and therefore I don’t know if we can apply Church characteristics and attributes to it. Jesus is the head of the church and not this nation. I, like many Christians, am struggling with amount force I should assert in this nation. As all nations go it is guaranteed that they will go out someday. I listen to the comments of our older, wiser generation about the moral level of their days and how far it has come. When I look forward to our coming struggle with issues like homosexual marriage, allowing non-wed couples to adopt, socioeconomic class struggles (thank you CNN), abortion, embryonic stem-cell research… etc. I’m not going to rail against any particular party, person, or group. I must remember that God will give peace to his people and that one day, no matter how bad it gets, that Jesus will come back for me. What physical action should I take to save a sinking ship I know will never recover? How much sand should I bail out of a quicksand pit to save a dying animal in the middle? I agree with what Pippen said while standing on the balcony with Gandalf in Gondor looking out to see the subtle yet violent glows of Mount Mordor climbing closer. I can't stand war but standing on the verge of one you couldn’t escape is worse. May we all find peace and comfort in this coming storm, also, I pray we find the courage to fight whatever spiritual and physical battle we must for the Kingdom of our lord and king. I'm not a defeatist or a pessimist, I’m just scared for us and where we are going. You can call me a realest. If you are not all ready praying for God’s will to be done here then please do so. God Bless you and may God’s kingdom increase.

Thomas’ Computer: a short story loosely based on real events
Chapter 6:"truth sucks"

“I’m not your father and your mother is not… well… not your mother,” lightly remarked Richard Lighten to his now stone faced son. As Thomas’ world slowly crumbled before his very dark red eyes, he couldn’t back a burst of laughter. Like he was the ring leader of his own circus and he was also the main attraction.
Almost conversationally Richard continued, “For the last 18 years I have thought about how to say that simple phrase… I’m sorry for whatever its worth.” Richard had thinking about how to word it but always came to the same conclusion. Keep it simple. Richard was hoping that Thomas would see he willingness to be straight forward and admire him for it. This was not what Thomas was thinking. Thomas’ only reply was the vivid color his eyes were using to communicate silent frustration and confusion.

Alisha, doing all should could to hold back the flood of tears could hold back no longer and let out a silent sob. Her hands crawled along the table surface looking for the hands of her son; she hoped he still was her son. Richard remained stone still, as if he was under inspection and his life depended on him not moving. Only the sounds of breath exhaling from nervous lungs could be heard.

“Mummy?” murmured a sleepy little girl in her mother’s warm arm. Without finding its quarry, her arm retracted from the table and wrapped around the child.

What do you say to that? Reply Thomas to himself. Scrambling for words to break the awkward silence Thomas was only able to say “Ok, what happened, why, where, when… what the...”

Taking her emotions back under her control she said, “We all need to sleep on this for right now. Tomorrow, when we have all thought about this we will answer all of your questions.” Without looking at her husband or uttering a sound in his direction, she got up to put her baby to bed.

All the while Thomas was left at the table wondering to himself; if these two were not his parents then who is?

Thomas’ Computer: a short story loosely based on real events
Chapter 5:"the package"

The thunder from the storm raging outside sounded like monsters trying to break into the house through the roof. Rain steadily beat against the windows threatening to break them in if they continued their resistance. The vibration from the central heater was felt through the floor as Thomas gentle turned the package over in his nervous hands.

Who could this possibly come from? Asked Thomas who was slowly turning into an anxious 12 year boy Christmas morning about to open his presents. His eyes turned a bright shade of green, like the color you would see on a plant in spring about to release its flower for the entire world to admire. As another shot of lightening temporarily dimmed the light of his average room he began to fumble delicately with the tape that barred his entrance into its mysterious chambers within.

As most boys his age, he began to pump his legs anxiously like a runner warming up before a race. “Why I am I so excited to see what’s in this box? “ Thomas remarked verbally. Reluctantly tuning down, he dropped the box on the ground and looked at it like it was a device trying to control his mind. As the thunder buffeted the house the groan of the bed was inaudible as he stood up and turned for the door leaving the package unopened and looking rather disappointed on the ground. Walking down the stairs that lead to the kitchen he could hear the hushed hurried voices of his parents at the kitchen table where his 2 year old sister was playing under the table with his old dump truck which had her Barbie doll elegantly seated on top commanding her loyal subjects (imaginary) with grace and beauty. “What are you guys talking about?” asked Thomas not trying to sound as sharp as it came out.

“We’re talking about the box you received earlier today,” replied his mother. He could see the faint streaks tears recently wiped away from the napkin she held in her hands.

“Yeah, who dropped it off by the way,” with his mother opening the subject Thomas felt free to pursue it. “I mean was it a messenger? Because I wasn’t expecting anything.” As Thomas opened the refrigerator he had to move half of its contents just to grab a Dr. Pepper.

His father replied, “We were hoping you might be able to enlighten us.”

“No, I haven’t opened it yet,” trying his best to cover his bright green eyes to conceal his anxious desire to find out what it is. “Do you want me to bring it down and we could open it together?”

His father, Richard Lighten, was reserved man prone to few words and even fewer facial expressions. He was a retired army Colonel that saw a lot of action in both desert storm and the current conflict. Currently he was trying his hand as an electrician making good money, but doing it mostly to keep himself busy. Richard loved his son and wanted him to know that but found it hard to show him in any way that Thomas would understand.

“Mom are you ok?”

“I’ll be fine hunny, just go up get the package and we’ll talk.”

When Thomas came back down the stairs he could hear very clearly his father.

“Alisha, we must, if we don’t… when will we.”

Sobbing openly by this time, “how…do you think he will react? Hunny put the tuck on the floor please.” Amanda had decided to make her presence finally known by driving the truck straight up her mothers leg.
When he hit the landing he did his best to hide his reaction from overhearing them.

“Are you guys sure everything is ok?” his eyes now turning dark brown showing his inner turmoil.

“It will be ok. Just open the package,” not used to the angry tone his father used; he robotically brought the package to the table and began to open it.

Once the tape was removed, Thomas opened the cardboard lid and peered down at a silvery rectangle with an apple symbol in the middle of the rectangle seeming to have a bite taken from its side. As if a physical weight was lifted off his parents they sighed in unison and leaned back in their chairs like they had just been running and were now taking a rest. It was a computer, actually it was Macbook pro. As if it were made out of egg shell and any jerky motion would destroy it, Thomas gently removed it from the box.

“Is this why you guys were freaking out?” he addressed his parents still having a look of amazement on his face.

“No, we thought it was something completely different love,” said Alisha clearly relieved.

When Thomas lifted the lid and moved to turn it on it turned on all by itself. A strange voice came from the device making it sound like it was possessed. Without Thomas knowing microsystems turned on and routines began to whir to life, a series of hypersonic messages were sent from the computer to the mind of and equally unknowing cowboy 2 miles away.

“Siiuurr, wii neeeded yous now.” The cowboy, thinking he had seen it all, passed out right on Main Street.