WICK LAUGHTER (& an AtoZ Apology)

Standing true
Waiting to be ignited
It comes
An action
The gift is seized
Levity flares
Glittering bright
Until it is blown out
And darkens the night

So, about that A to Z Blogging Challenge, 2021…

I am NOT throwing in the towel. I’m not giving up. Not gonna happen.

What is happening is that Happenings got in my way. Life. Sucks.

I will do my best to post S before midnight 4/23, then catch up over the weekend.

• T is for Saturday, 4/24
• U will be Sunday, 4/25
• V is Monday, 4/26
• W is Tuesday, 4/27
• X is Wednesday, 4/28
• Y is Thursday, 4/29
• Z is Friday, 4/30
• (There might be one last piece on May 1. We’ll see).
• Final Reflection: 5/4 or 5/5

I hope you enjoy this little ditty. The idea started from a comment I made on Brewing Coffee, Twisting Words & Breaking Pencils.

Give Shari a visit. You’ll be glad you did.

MOMENTS: Liquid Time A to Z Blogging Challenge 2021

A to Z Blogging Challenge 2021

MOMENTS

LIQUID TIME

“I don’t think it is possible to contribute to the present moment in any meaningful way while being wholly engulfed by it.” Maria Popova

elsEwhen ∞

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the Doomsday Clock at 100 seconds to midnight

TRANSITION

Z grasps the fringe of Khronos

“Zehara! Nooooooo…”

“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” ~ ~ Albert Einstein

COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME AND APPRECIATED.

THANK YOU.

Cold Hearted John Meadows

My name is John Meadows, at least, that’s what it says on my birth certificate. At this moment, I’m not sure if that is even true.

I woke up in a bedroom. It was an unknown space. Except, as I lifted my head up off the pillow, I noticed a picture that looked familiar. I stood, walked over to it: it was flush with the wall. An outdoor moment in time. There was a man, and a woman. They held each other, big smiles on their faces.

The man leaned on a vast gnarled tree. Instead of branches, It looked as if seven tree trunks wound around each other, an abstract weave of latticework wood. The leaves were thick, a dark shade of green that looked almost like they were black. They hung over the couple like a frame.

The woman had her head resting on the man’s shoulder. His hair fell to his collar, so dark that at first, I thought it looked like it was cut out of the photo. Her hair was lighter, a mixture of golden brown and red. I remembered that it was called Auburn. I don’t know why I didn’t realize that at first. Yes, Auburn-haired, long, it fell down and over his chest, making his torso look like it disappeared as well.

The photo bothered me. Her eyes sparkled when the shot was taken. His eyes held little to no reflection. I looked. His didn’t, even with the sunlight spotlighting where they stood. Her eyes, the tilt of her head, her smile: there was life. He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. They were flat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a free-standing full-body mirror to my left. It stood at a tilt near white folding slat doors. I shuffled my way over to it. I could not remember what I looked like, nor who I was. Maybe, I thought, looking at the reflection, things would come into focus. My heart began to accelerate, chest tightening, and it was getting difficult to breathe. I hadn’t been aware of breathing before this. I was now.

Coming into full view, I felt my head had received something smashing into it. It hurt like hell. I had to touch my head. It felt like bone shattered. I checked. It felt solid. But the pain. It was like a steel bar was slammed against my forehead.

A steel bar? Why did I…no, more a bat? Baseball? No, no. A baseball. Yes, a baseball hurtling to me, not even registering that I needed to move, to duck, do something. But it was too fast. I was too slow. I was up, then nothing. It felt just like that, although I didn’t know why. I still don’t know why I felt that way when I stepped in front of the mirror.

Yes, I was the man in that photo, even though I did not remember that. It was clear upon viewing, my eyesight was waving, no floaters, no film distortion over the irises. I looked at myself in the mirror, then over to the photo. Goosebumps paraded across my spine.

Turning, I took in the rest of the room. White minimalism in paint and fabrics. Same with my pajama pants. I noticed, then, that I had no shirt on. A look in the mirror traveled down; before, I was solely intent only on my face. My chest was hairy but not matted. Three parallel deep pink scars ran from my left armpit to just past the bellybutton. An inny. They didn’t hurt as much as throb. Noticing them did not help my rapid breathing and heart rate.

The next moments are still a blur. I know I looked around: the place had been tidy when I awoke. Now, drawers, men’s clothing, papers littered the white. All the bed linen was on the floor. The sliding slat doors were open wide, showing a closet that was only half full. I took this all in, sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. I felt something hard and looked down. I had a metal lockbox in my hands. My breathing shallowed, and I felt myself calm down to regular human beats. At least, what I thought were normal.

There was no lock to have to break into. The lid swung up with ease, showing the mound of papers it carried. I riffled through the envelopes, unfolded the various papers, and only stopped when I found a Birth Certificate. Mine, I have assumed, until someone tells me differently. 

My name is John Meadows.

If you are listening to this tape, then most likely I am dead. Or too far away for any meaning of living or dead is inconsequential. This is the story of what happened from that moment of waking, clueless to everything that had meaning to me. I know that the woman in the photo was Jean, my partner. I know she no longer…is here. Where? At this time, I still do not know how to answer that.

Whoever you are, whenever you are, do yourself and loved ones a favor.

Do not stand under the leaves of that massive, gnarled tree.

It is not the Tree of Life.

Screeching Fury

(Credit: Pavelk/Shutterstock)

 

Everything is darkness.

Raging fires, flaring high above our heads

Distant light snuffed out by the night.

Wounds never heal; we ooze out of ourselves

Stuffing gauze pads, cover with bandages

Not closing, not lessening, never clotting

Infectious nature saturate places uncrossed

There is beauty in moments

When the glare inside is strong

But it fades, it fades

As more darkness surrounds.

 

For some, existence changes

Opening senses, letting them coexist

Abstract perceiving demands explanations

Or relief.

What should and what should not be

Or, hide from it all

Behind flickering words

On flickering screens

On flickering pen on paper

Being part, while apart

Everything is darkness.

Still, for some

Brightness endures.

 

 

 

What It Is

Crumbled mass of memories

Beating to remain

Drift away in pieces

Day by week

Week by month

Our chorus has refrained.

 

Let the days go by

Time is translucent

Affixed by artificial means

Seconds are meaningless

Hours, years, what do they share?

Try to keep track of this dark despair.

 

Say: “It’ll be over soon. We’ll return to normal.”

Hope that’s true, but, it’s written in the wind

Carved deep by our wants

Fashioned by others invested greed

It’ll all be over soon.

Hah! Don’t hold your breath.

 

Don’t cross my boundaries

While I obliterate yours

My space is limitless

Go back to other shores

I am eternally right

You know you’re always wrong.

 

Don’t come closer

Don’t you fucking dare.

Hide behind a wall of hate

Imagine I don’t give a shit

This world is for the taking

One breath will never come.

 

History becomes what we think

Nothing learned; ours to repeat

Our earth creeks and shakes

As it senses and retaliates

In the beginning, one

So at the end. None.

 

Crumbled mass of what we were

Bleeding to remain

Feeling wasted, dried to dust

Yet we wait behind closed doors

Time isn’t after us

Nothing is holding us.

 

**Apologies and credit to The Talking Heads.

 

AtoZ Blogging Challenge: Theme Reveal

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

Starting Monday, April 1, 2019, the AtoZ Blog Challenge begins again.

This will be my sixth time that I am throwing my creative hat into the challenge. I have mainly produced serialized stories that work as short chapters. They have been of various successes, judging by the commentary and friendships I have developed through the challenge.

I am working on taking last year’s story line (The Abysmal Dollhouse) and re-working it into a novel. I’ve been working on it since May/June of last year. That’s why there haven’t been any TAD stories here since the end of April.

So, surprise.

I still love The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas (April 2016) and The Apartment Building: Swan Rise series (April 2012). I hope to return to both of those one day and take them  to the next step, as well as The Kitsune-Mochi Saga (not an AtoZ story).

AND NOW, THE 2019 THEME REVEAL

A CAR IN THE WOODS

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1959. An abandoned car is found in the woods, not near any road, surrounded by trees that left little room for a car to wind up where this one did.

It was discovered by hunters Todd Wilson and Barry Carter. They were following an 8 point Buck for a long winding chase. The Buck kept his life that day. Todd and Barry stopped in their tracks when the sun, which could barely peek through the dense foliage, glinted off something shiny where nothing shiny should have been.

The car they found was in near pristine condition. A cherry red Thunderbird convertible with a 430ci Lincoln Interceptor J-code engine, power steering, power brakes, power windows, a power seat and a new power top.

Nothing was found to identify the owner or even how it got there. Retracing their tracks, they made it back to their truck, eventually, as they got lost once or twice,  and high tailed it to the sheriff’s office.

Inquiries were made. Nothing came of it. It was a puzzle to Sheriff John Miner for the rest of his life, which wasn’t as long lived as he had hoped it would be.

Todd and Barry, meanwhile, made their find profitable, earning free drinks at the Barn House Bar from folks who wanted to know all the details.  As the tellings went on, the story…grew. And it spread to nearby towns, especially one where Todd and Barry went drinking.

People searched for the car. They traveled the forest, thought they saw it, but didn’t. It was the talk of the county. The searching went on for a short while.

Until a group of four High School students did not come home. Neither did a couple of people from the first search party. Then a few more in the second group, looking for both the kids and the two adults who were nowhere to be found.

Then, the stories began.

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I hope you return for the 26 parts of A Car In The Woods. Comments are always welcome.

If you are interested in joining the AtoZ Blog Challenge, you still have time to sign up. Just click HERE and you will be directed to their home page with all the info you will need. Good luck if you do. It’s a lot of fun. Either way, I hope you come back and see where the Car takes us, as well as visiting other blogs that have joined in the fun.

Abrupt Transition: Orangutan Space Chapter 2

To Read Chapter 1, please click on the title: Oranutan Space

©tend2it

Abrupt Transition

Afterwards…

The Mammala War Ships were known as the, almost, deadliest destructive force in outer space. The APEX  was juiced up to be the warship that surpassed them all. During the battle, the APEX faded into the unlit side of a large asteroid. Lurking; neither the Hominide class nor the OrbShips were aware of the danger. The APEX systems recorded the attempt and the defeat. The sole occupant really didn’t care which side won.

Felidae hated everyone.

She watched the destruction of the R.O.c.K.’s. Whoever the pilot was, they were an expert at the Zig-Zag Swing. Knowing the outcome was no deterrent from enjoying the show. Felidae was waiting for the next phase of the altercation when…an unexpected nothing happened.

The Pongo powered down it weapons array. Instead of flipping and going after their attackers, it just continued going in its original direction. Fast. She thought they were at TT levels; her AI confirmed it a moment later. It made no sense to her: the Pongo had the raised hand. The OrbShips only carried two R.O.c.K.s apiece, and even warming up their Death Dartles was futile. The Pongo was accelerating, and neither OrbShip would have the power to catch up or do any real damage with their double D’s.

This probably wasn’t their mission. Right place; wrong time. Most likely they were scavaging what minerals they could when they were alerted of the Hominidae vessel. Its path was coming closer, so they set a trap near two adjacent large asteroids. The Pardis OrbShip hid in the darkness created by the dense shade of one asteroid. The Tigris chose a more Blankenship using its masking unit.

They had the perfect opportunity to bring down their enemy. The Pongo did not have a chance one minute, then the next one the upper hand was lost. Their weapons were already active and fired enough rounds to make the captains of both OrbShips deploy their R.O.c.K.’s prematurely. The Pongo easily blasted three of the four. The fourth one came a little close, but it was just a manuever and a target lock.

The Captain and crew of the Pongo should have gone on the offensive. They should have wanted blood. They had the edge.

So, why did they run?

Felidae fired off a tracker disc, letting her ship’s AI guide it to the Hominidae.   Knowing it would attach itself, she kept her attention on the two Orbs. A non-friendly smile briefly emerged. Feidae was on the prowl. She kept  the Apex’s deflection mode on. Once the Pongo was gone Felidae went on the prowl.

Neither OrbShip were aware Felidae was in range until she dropped the deflection sheild. No matter. It was too late for them. The Pardis Orb took the full force of the Apex; it was over too soon for Felidae’s tastes. The Pardis was ripped apart. She gave it no notice. Her attention was now directed to the Tigris.

The Tigris was the larger of the two, with a few tricks not usually part of the main designs of the OrbShips. Zip Discs came churning out of the ship. If one struck the Apex its internal core would be fried. And weapons, controls, and life support. Felidae had a broad smile, ready for the challenge. She let them play variations of attack modes which all failed. The APEX was too fast for them, and Felidae proved to be a much better pilot. Boredom came upon her quickly. She had been playing with them. No more. She struck the Tigris with force blast after force blast.

Felidae ordered her AI to deploy all of the TeslaBarbs across the outside layer of the APEX. They unfolded from the ship, and the electrical vibrations and charges went to its highest mode. Felidae descended upon the Tirgis; the APEX went into spin and rolled over the OrbShip, sinking the barbs into the hull and puncturing the Orb over and over. As the barbs pierced, the electrical componants fried any systems it connected with. The Tigris was dead, and the crew knew it as all systems failed and the ship cracked apart.

Retracting the barbs and sealing them away left Felidae a Pro/Con decision to make. On one hand, there was enough scavangable debris floating around that she could use or sell off. Her credit could use a boost.

“Screw the potential credits,”she muttered under her breath. There was the potential for greater rewards. Most likely more to pounce on and destroy, and then find some credit worthy items.

“AI, Bring the tracker online and send the location path to my console and my quarters. Power down weapons, for now. Once we get near the Pongo, bring up the deflection particles.”

She sat in her pilot bag, growing angrier as time passed. The APEX would catch up with the Pongo, no doubt in her mind. They definetly had skilled operatives aboard. There were skills abely used to destroy the enemy weapons and some excellent piloting.

So, why did they run?

The question nagged at her. She’d catch them, find out the why, and then one by one she’d delete their lives.

Felidae hated everyone.

To be continued?

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Nerves Like Daggers (A to Z Blog Challenge)

**To read the first part of this story line: Mental Challenges
**To start from the very beginning: From the Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas

“Nerves Like Daggers”

The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas

The house had been booby trapped.

Luckily for those under his command, Sargent Detective Gil Katsaros held back his men in respect to the local police force. Rovas and Berrak were behind them when the explosion forced them all to hit the ground. Shrapnel flew by Rovas and Berrak, but wood slivers and other debris pierced some who were closer to the house. The five members of the local force were scattered around the burning mess of a vacation home.

Berrak helped tend to the wounded with some of the other officers, after making sure Rovas was OK. He, after checking she was all right, went with the Sargent Detective to examine the scene after they called the local authorities.

“EMTs and fire trucks are on their way,” Gil told Rovas as they went to check on the status of the downed police. Three of them were dead; the other two, one a female cop, were still hanging on. Both were unconscious, which Rovas thought was a blessing for them, seeing how badly they were injured. While the others did what they could until medical help could arrive, Rovas and Gil continued searching the perimeter. The house was still ablaze and too hot to get too close to.

Gil drew his gun, offering Rovas his back up piece. He shook his head and produced his own gun from under his coat. Gil’s eyebrow went up in a bit of surprise, but he let it go immediately.

“I’ll take that, Gil, if you don’t mind.” Berrak had come quietly behind them, aware of her presence when she arrived.

Gil’s face twitched, ready to say no, but Rovas turned and gave his wife his gun. He took Gil’s back up. “I feel better if Berrak has a gun that she’s practice on already. Home protection, after…” he trailed off.

“Right. There’s not much we can do here while the fire burns so hot.” Gil walked over to his second in command and spoke to him out of earshot of Rovas and Berrak. “They’ll stay her for the medical team and back up, and will call me when this area is secure. I’d like to go check out the surrounding area, but…” Gil said, kicking himself as he was saying it, “…stay close to me.”

Rovas only gave him the look. He nodded. Berrak fell to her husbands’ side as they made their way into the trees that surrounded the property. To the west was a small beach area; the east, behind the remains of the house, was forest, a small hill in the near distance led to the south. Open land and the main road were due north. If John Peters was still in the vicinity, Rovas agreed with Gil: the forest would be the first choice to hide or escape through. Everything else appeared too wide open.

They scoured through the copse of trees, searching the tops of the sturdiest trees as well as any large groupings of shrubbery. They heard the sirens in the distance. Rovas remained intent in his hunt for Peters; Gil was glad to hear the sound, knowing reinforcements would soon be freed up to join them. Berrak was unsuccessfully looking for any markings of Peters passing this way. There were none.

She turned around, looking back along the way they came. The land had risen slightly as they walked, which now gave them more of a panoramic view of the burning house and more of its surroundings. Around a bend in their search, she spotted something: a bright glint of light to their left. She prodded Rovas, who tapped Gil. They began to crouch just as they heard the sound of a rifle firing.

Gil went down in a spray of blood from his shoulder. Two more shots rang out, missing them.

“Berrak, stay with Gil. Call for help.” She began to shake her head, but Rovas was already off. As he ran, he flicked the gun safety switch. He heard Peters cutting through the brush more than saw him. There were glimpses, but not enough for a clear shot as he ran. There was more than a twenty years difference in their ages, but Rovas was spurred on by adrenaline and anger.

Rovas followed Peters as the hill rose steeply. Peters fired off another shot, turned and ran again.  He missed, but this allowed Rovas to lesson the distance between the two. The killer crested the hill and disappeared completely from sight. Wary, Rovas made his way to the top, expecting another bullet.

He crept to the top and peered over. The hill sloped down with a radical drop. He saw Peters sling his rifle over his shoulder. From the distance, Rovas saw Peters take out a piece of paper, a knife, and watched him drive it into the trunk of the tree closest to him. He climbed onto a waiting motorcycle and put a helmet on. As he revved the engine, Peters turned and looked up.

Rovas and Peters locked eyes for an instant.  Peters reached up and closed the helmets’ shield and kicked up the stand. Rovas took aim with his gun and fired off four shots. Peters drove off at high speed and was gone in a flash.

A medic was tending to Gil as Rovas came to where he left them. Berrak was by him before he could say anything. She checked him over to make sure he wasn’t shot. She found nothing more than scrapes. “I’m ok, I’m ok,” he said to her as she dabbed at the blood on his hands and then face. “It’s only a flesh wound.”

“This is not a time for joking around, Zarian.”

The half smile faded from his face. “I know. He got away, Gil. Had a blasted bike hidden away. He left us a present where he stashed his motorcycle. We’ll pick it up soon.”

“Military planning all the way around. Take the enemy out, stake out the high grou…ouch!…high ground. Plan your retreat.” Gil grumbled. “Bastard.”

“Your shoulder?”

“Through and through,” said the EMT, Jill. “We’ll take him to the hospital for a full check up. Yes, you are going to the hospital,” she said, before Gil could say anything.

“I assume you’ve already had this argument while I was gone.”

She turned to him, tight-lipped but smiling nonetheless.

“Gil, go. We’ll be right behind you.”

Rovas put his arm around Berrak’s shoulder, pulling her into a hug as the others made their way back to the house.

“I was worried,” she said.

He just nodded his head, which she felt alongside hers in the embrace. They stood like that for a little bit, then made their way to the car.

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“The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas” is my theme for this year. Cold case files for the good inspector to delve into, trying to make sense &/or solve. My plan is to use a variety of genres within this overarching theme to allow me to play and, of course, challenge myself. Some cases might bleed into another case. Most will be stand alone. We’ll see, won’t we?

As to the Blogging from A to Z challenge, I’ll let the words of Arlee Bird (founder of said challenge) tell you what this is all about:

The brainchild of Arlee Bird, at Tossing it Out, the A to Z Challenge is posting every day in April except Sundays (we get those off for good behavior.) And since there are 26 days, that matches the 26 letters of the alphabet. On April 1, blog about something that begins with the letter “A.” April 2 is “B,” April 4 is “C,” and so on. You can use a theme for the month or go random – just as long as it matches the letter of the alphabet for the day.

The A to Z Challenge is a great way to get into the blogging habit and make new friends.

So, join me (and the over 1700 other blogs involved) starting on Friday, April 1, 2016 and ending on Saturday, April 30th. Comments and such are always welcome. I hope you enjoy the stories.

Love Her Madly (A to Z Blog Challenge)

Author’s Note: I must apologize. If you read the previous entry, Kaleidoscope Eyes, I made an error in regards to confidentiality issues with women’s health. No one brought it to my attention; it was just a realization later in the day. It has been edited and, I hope, makes more sense. Most importantly, that it does not trivialize a very sensitive issue.

**To start from the very beginning: From the Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas

**To read the first and second part of this story line, click on: Jane’s Addictive and then Kaleidoscope Eyes

 

“Love Her Madly”

The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas

Seven years ago, five people in their 20’s died of a drug overdose. The deaths were cut and dried, but who called it into 911 remained a mystery until now. Aimee confessed her part in that night, but Rovas felt there was still something more. While SD Katsaros took Ms. Andersson to the station for her to write out her part in that evening, Rovas and Berrak went home to dig deeper into Edward White, the one who, Aimee claimed, brought the lethal drug to the “meditation” party.

At first glance, little was to be gleamed from what was online. Berrak went online searching. When she found something of interest, she’d pass that information to Zarian. He would follow it up with phone calls when he could. For the next few hours this continued. They felt they were getting somewhere when Gil called them, asking them both to come down to the station.

When they arrived, Gil led them to his office and closed the door.

“What couldn’t you tell us on the phone, Gil?,” Berrak asked. “We have an idea, but…what did Aimee say now?”

Gil brushed his hand through his hair and sat back in his chair. “Aimee is the queen of omissions. Yes, she was involved with Robert Larsen, was best friends with his sister, called 911 and left. Yet, she neglected to tell us that she knew Edward White a lot more than just as one of Robert’s grad school friends.”

“Were they…,” Berrak asked.

“No, although according to her, he wanted it to be.”

Rovas interjected: “That seems to mesh with the few things we were able to find out. I made some calls to his parents, his sister, and though reluctant to bring it up after so long, they shared little tidbits. I was able to get his parents to speak to me on speaker. They were closed about his drug use, especially the father. Mrs. White  started to talk about it. ‘We thought all that was behind him’ she began, before her husband shushed her. They ended the call soon after that.

I finally reached his sister. She confirmed that her brother was a heavy drug user in his teens, but he got clean. She thought he had stayed that way. She did give us something new: “Eddy was really upset. He really liked this girl, but he said she really didn’t like him. She told him so, that bitch.” Rovas closed his notepad. “I asked her if she knew who that girl was, but she said no.”

“Aimee,” both Berrak and Gil said at the same time.

“Yes, Aimee. She initially “forgot” to mention that to us. She finally filled in many of the blanks that were missing once we got her here. Robert Larsen ‘pushed’ White on her. She felt this was a way ‘Bobby’ was trying to distance himself from her. He asked her out a number of times; she said no every time. Aimee said that just a few days before the incident, she…told him off in an unflattering way. She loved ‘Bobby’ and only wanted him. She told him to get lost, in much harsher terms.”

“Damn!,” muttered Rovas. “White brought the drugs, which she said was not the norm. Gil, Berrak, this was a murder/suicide. It had to be. Edward White wanted revenge against both Robert and Aimee, and to hell with whoever else fell by the wayside. Gil, he may have a a sealed record as a juvenile drug offender.”

Gil nodded, making a note to look into this.

“But, there were five bodies, and each one seemed to have their own roach,” Berrak queried.

“Aimee admitted that Edward gave her one and kept insisting that she light up, but she hesitated simply because of the way he was acting. He and the others were already on their way. She just put the…ahem…roach in her pocket and forgot all about it when the others started reacting to the pure heroin that White mixed in.”

Rovas looked at his wife. “Roach?” He had a smile, and shook his head.

“I am hipper than you know, Mr. Rovas.” She sat there with a Mona Lisa smile while the men chuckled.

“He meant to kill her along with the others, but Aimee’s refusal squashed that.” Rovas sighed. He turned to Berrak as Gil left to get them some coffee.

“What will happen to Aimee?,” Berrak asked her husband.

“It’ll be up to the courts to decide.”

They left soon after they sipped at the coffee.

It was almost a week later when Gil called them. Rovas spoke to him. Berrak noticed he tensed up, his hand going white gripping the receiver. He hung up with a curse.

“I don’t believe this. You won’t believe this.”

“What? Zarian, what has you so upset?”

He sat down and took her hands in his. “John Peters escaped from the mental ward on his way to jail.”

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“The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas” is my theme for this year. Cold case files for the good inspector to delve into, trying to make sense &/or solve. My plan is to use a variety of genres within this overarching theme to allow me to play and, of course, challenge myself. Some cases might bleed into another case. Most will be stand alone. We’ll see, won’t we?

As to the Blogging from A to Z challenge, I’ll let the words of Arlee Bird (founder of said challenge) tell you what this is all about:

The brainchild of Arlee Bird, at Tossing it Out, the A to Z Challenge is posting every day in April except Sundays (we get those off for good behavior.) And since there are 26 days, that matches the 26 letters of the alphabet. On April 1, blog about something that begins with the letter “A.” April 2 is “B,” April 4 is “C,” and so on. You can use a theme for the month or go random – just as long as it matches the letter of the alphabet for the day.

The A to Z Challenge is a great way to get into the blogging habit and make new friends.

So, join me (and the over 1800 other blogs involved) starting on Friday, April 1, 2016 and ending on Saturday, April 30th. Comments and such are always welcome. I hope you enjoy the stories.

Kaleidoscope Eyes (A to Z Blog Challenge)

**To start from the beginning: From the Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas

**To read the first part of this story line: Jane’s Addictive

“Kaleidoscope Eyes”

The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas

Time, again, was on their side. People’s guards are up after an incident, those who have committed a crime in whatever fashion, with whatever results. Complacency sets in the more time moves along, creating a security gap that widens each day that they feel they’ve gotten away with it. Guilt plagues many. Many, but not all.

Sargent Detective Gil Katsaros sat in front of the woman he was sure had called into 911 seven years ago. Aimee Andersson, 31, had been chewing her thumb nail until she noticed him focusing on that. “Nervous, Ms. Andersson? Please relax. We’re just revisiting in the deaths of your five friends.”

Aimee had looked down at her lap. “They weren’t all my friends. Becka and Bobby, yes, but the others…I just knew them because they were part of Bobby’s circle. Outside. Other grad student friends of his.” She looked up, taking in the other two in her living room.

Ex-Inspector Rovas and his wife, Berrak, sat to the side, on the loveseat. Rovas had interviewed her, along with all the others, all those years ago. He studied her reactions, vocally and physicality. She was hiding something; he thought so then, and even more so now. Fact finding had advanced so much in such a short time. Berrak proved to be an excellent online researcher, which finally led them back to Ms. Andersson.

Berrak had delved with precision into the four women who had no alibis that that night. Besides knowing the five who died in various degrees, none of them, besides Aimee, had any motive for such secrecy. Rovas and Gil both agreed there was more to look into with Aimee Andersson after the three of them reviewed what Berrak had discovered.

The Sargent Detective took the lead, again, as the only official representative here. “So, Becka and Bobby-Rebecka and Robert Larsen, yes?” She nodded. “You were close to them. Rebecka and you were friends from High School from 11th grade on, until…”

“She was my best friend.”

“And Robert?”

“I knew him a…little. He was a year older, hung out mainly with his own friends. Went to college, then it was just Becka and me.” She let out a huge puff of air. “You know all this. He,” she said, nodding towards Rovas, “asked me all this…then.”

Rovas interjected. “Yes, I did, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure we have the facts correctly. I hope you see that.”

She nodded slightly, looking down at her hands one more time.

Gil picked up the questioning again. “I need to ask this: did you know Robert Larsen more than just a little? He had to come home from college for visits, vacations…you say you were Rebecka’s best friend. Your fingerprints were found in various parts of the house, including the basement, which means you had been there often enough, and recent enough from the time of the crime, to not have been around Robert after he graduated college. He was back there, again, going for his masters.”

Aimee twisted her body on the couch, looking quite uncomfortable.

Berrak, inwardly wincing, could not hold it in any longer. “Aimee. You were out out from your college classes-a lot-soon after the semester started. I was able to…find school records.” Berrak hesitated, knowing she had to bend some rules to get what she found. “After the second week, you missed class after class. Or, you would show up to morning classes and run out, sick. Right or wrong, three professors noted this in case…You then dropped out of school, after not showing up for most of the semester after that.” Berrak looked to her husband.

Rovas nodded. “Aimee…were you pregnant?”

The three of them looked at Aimee, awaiting an answer. Tears dropped onto her hands, which she had brought up to cover her mouth, her cheeks.

“Yes.” Quietly.

“I’m assuming it was Robert’s.” Pause. A nod. “Was it rape?” Rovas asked.

Aimee shook her head. “He didn’t want any children, especially not then. He was just starting his grad work. His work, his parents, his…his…his!” She broke off. Looking up at Berrak, focusing solely on her: “Robert never asked me what I wanted, needed. I wanted to be with him. This was not planned, but I hoped…”

Berrak got up from the loveseat and went over to Aimee, taking her hands as she sat down on the couch beside her. Aimee cried while Berrak held her.

After the tears subsided, Aimee told the rest. “Robert was involved in Political Studies. He wanted to move into the political world. He…convinced me that having an abortion was the right thing, since he did not want to get married then, and I didn’t have a good job at that point to support a child, even with his help.”

Gil asked “How does that work, then, with his being part of these pot parties?”

“Bobby thought it was such a non-issue. He felt marijuana was going to eventually be legalized, so…and that’s kinda what’s been going on lately.”

“He didn’t want…this,” she splayed her hands, “…to come back and cause problems for him down the line if he made it later in life. We did the…abortion…two states away. Legal, and confidential.” She looked up at Rovas; it was the first time anger crept into her voice. “Bobby was trying to protect future Robert. So, the whole way over, I tried to change his mind..about the baby, I mean. He kept arguing his point. I…finally gave up.”

The silence that followed was painful for all of them.

Gil finally broke the tension. “Aimee, were you the one who called 911?”

“Yes.” Crying again.

“Why didn’t you tell your name to the operator? Why did you leave?”

“They were all dead! They OD’d right in front of me.  Seconds. They all had their own joints. Everything was fine. Then…the convulsions. Their bodies spasmed out. I was terrified, not thinking straight. The look on Becka’s face, the pain… and then Bobby…I called.  I ran.”

“Why did you kill them, Aimee? Your trouble was with Robert. Why did you kill them all?” Gil asked.

Rovas had put up a hand while Gil was asking this, but it was too late.

“I didn’t kill them, dammit. I loved both of them! Even after what Bobby had me do. My only ‘crime’ was calling then leaving, staying quiet. I felt my life was over. I shut down for months afterwards.”

Rovas got up, walked over to Aimee. He knelt to her right. Berrak was still to her left.

“Then, Aimee,’ he asked, “why would Robert bring something so dangerous?”

“But, Bobby didn’t bring it. It was just his and Becka’s place. Eddie brought the pot that night.”

“Edward White?”

“Yes.”

He stood up first, beckoning to his wife and the Sargent Detective as he entered the hallway.

“If she’s not lying, which I don’t think she is, now…” he sighed. “We looked in the wrong direction. The whole damn time.”

“I’ll take her down to the station to write this out, officially. Berrak?”

“Yes. It’s time to look much deeper into Edward White.” She looked into the living room, sadness washing through her. Aimee folded in on herself on the couch, weeping quietly.

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“The Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas” is my theme for this year. Cold case files for the good inspector to delve into, trying to make sense &/or solve. My plan is to use a variety of genres within this overarching theme to allow me to play and, of course, challenge myself. Some cases might bleed into another case. Most will be stand alone. We’ll see, won’t we?

As to the Blogging from A to Z challenge, I’ll let the words of Arlee Bird (founder of said challenge) tell you what this is all about:

The brainchild of Arlee Bird, at Tossing it Out, the A to Z Challenge is posting every day in April except Sundays (we get those off for good behavior.) And since there are 26 days, that matches the 26 letters of the alphabet. On April 1, blog about something that begins with the letter “A.” April 2 is “B,” April 4 is “C,” and so on. You can use a theme for the month or go random – just as long as it matches the letter of the alphabet for the day.

The A to Z Challenge is a great way to get into the blogging habit and make new friends.

So, join me (and the over 1800 other blogs involved) starting on Friday, April 1, 2016 and ending on Saturday, April 30th. Comments and such are always welcome. I hope you enjoy the stories.