Ice: Part 2

"I think I'm stumped, Holmes. By simple elimination, as you suggested, I have determined that the thief could not possibly be the Butler. The note as we both know, was written by a left handed individual. The smearing of the ink, points to that fact rather blatantly, and since the Butler doesn't have a left hand, or arm for that matter, it could not possibly be him. I have also determined that the thief is in Birmingham, England, the roman numerals are in fact latitude and longitude coordinates." I paused while gathering my thoughts, and finally glanced at Holmes with a slight feeling of shame and said, "As for the other two Holmes, I haven't the faintest idea"

"Let me enlighten you, dear old friend. The thief carved his coordinates- you are correct about the location- into the brick wall above the ice box. He did so at a height of 5'8 inches. Although this may not be impossible for a person as short as the Chef, it is most improbable. But the final clue, and the one I could not ignore, was given to me by the thief himself. He used his true name you see".

"Yes, Holmes, so you have said, but I still neglect to follow you in your reasoning".

"Jasmin T Raymore is a clever anagram for James T Moriarty!"

I shook my head in astonishment. The thief was now known, and so we would be off in search of the man who was Sherlock Holmes one painful thorn. If all went well, then this time Moriarty's glaring arrogance would see him captured.

Sherlock Holmes: Ice

A piece of fanfiction honoring the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.




Ice


Holmes had been studying the clear, glass box with more interest than it warranted. It was an empty box after all, how much evidence could be left behind? I wondered how much longer he might stare at the blasted thing when he pulled his black, clay pipe from the overcoat he was wearing and began to puff in earnest. You could almost see the clock work in his head - the gears turning.

"What we have here, my good fellow, is simple evaporation" stated my long-time friend Sherlock Holmes. He leaned closer, to the now infamous glass container, which should have held a magnificent, 10 carat diamond. The box, however, had been found empty and the question of how the clever thievery had occurred was one question which left all stupefied.

"Look closely, Watson, and you will see what I see". I did as my colleague suggested. I studied the empty box and could only come to one conclusion- it was empty. I stood up slowly. "I'm afraid I don't understand how a diamond disappearing can have a thing to do with evaporation - you've lost me Holmes".

"Indeed", Holmes proclaimed, "Notice the stain Watson, on the silk pillow -silk was such a foolhardy, fabric to choose- and then ask yourself why would anyone put a rare, African cut diamond, during it's brief, first time debut, on a soiled, silk pillow?"

"My God man, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" I stated, my mouth agape at the possibility.

"The simplest answer is always correct, my dear Watson. It was a puzzle, surely, but not one that couldn't be solved with deductive reasoning. You have a diamond in a locked glass box. The box has not been shattered, cut or manipulated in any fashion. We stand in a windowless room with only one entry and exit point which during the time in question was being guarded by two sentry's. The viewing of the diamond was restricted to one half hour only, short and sweet. Finally, we have those", Holmes made a sweeping gesture with his hand indicating the two security lights which at the moment had been turned off due to the heat they'd been emitting. "The question to the riddle Watson is not 'how' the jewel was stolen, but 'when'."

I rubbed my five o' clock beard and chuckled, "So whoever stole the diamond did it before 200 people ever bore it witness".

Holmes nodded and said,"The diamond those people witnessed was a forgery. A forgery created from ice - perhaps if the thief had chosen a different fabric for his pillow, it would have fooled even me. But the water stain was as obvious as a fingerprint and I dare say, too obvious for such a brilliant rouse and calculated criminal enterprise! Come now Watson, we have work to do - clues to uncover - the thief is leading us by our noses, and should we allow it, we may have this case solved by daybreak."

We set out then, methodically investigating the box, dusting for prints and finally opening it's lid and handling the soiled diamond cushion. When upon closer inspection of the pillow I noticed something odd. A piece of paper was carefully folded and inserted into an open seam. "Holmes!" I shouted, "By Jove I think I've found something". With calm assurance Sherlock pulled the paper loose and unfolded it. I held my breath and listened as he read the note aloud.

"Out in the cold, Holmes?" "I'll tell you what's true" "Don't melt from the pressure" "Freeze up for a clue"

My cheeks flushed red, my anger was barely containable, the deviant was mocking us! I glanced over at Holmes, expecting a similar outrage, but instead he smiled and said, "To the ice box then Watson?"

"Is that what he means?"I asked.

"Indeed, my dear fellow. The ice diamond had to be stored somewhere. To leave a note, hinting that the diamond was made of Ice, and must be kept "cold" so that it wouldn't "melt" but instead remain "frozen" is the height of narcissism. He assumed we would not have gotten as far as we have. This bodes well for us. And my Dear Dr. Watson, his clue, has yielded more information than the crook originally intended".

My ever confidant colleague, leaned towards me, note in hand, and revealed numerous points on the script where the writing was smudged. I smiled broadly as the weight of this clue pressed itself upon me.

"Excellent!" I cried, "Elementary" said he.

We made our way to the back pantry where the Ice Box was kept and it didn't take us long to discover our next clue. There etched into the wall above the box was another anonymous note. Holmes withdrew his pipe, and re lit his extinguished tobacco. He ran a finger along the engravement and closely inspected the brick wall.

LII' XXV N I' LV W

"Cut into the wall by the very diamond we seek" stated he. I gasped in astonishment."Indeed Watson, most surprising, but not unexpected from a criminal such as this".

I studied the wall for a moment longer and suddenly knew what the numbers meant. "Good Heavens, Holmes! It couldn't be"

"But it is, he has left us his destination, and it is not far from here".

My eyes grew wide and I could not comprehend the motive behind such a clue. Surely now he would not escape. "Let's get going then Holmes! Lets catch the blasted thief!"

Sherlock shook his head. "It would be pointless lest we know whom it is we seek". I released a trapped breath in a heavy sigh and watched as Holmes pulled a measuring tape from my bag. From the bottom of the wall to the tip of the etchings, Holmes measured 5ft 8 inches in height. He quickly scribbled the measurements down in his note pad and turned to me.

"Inspector Lestrade has done the legwork on this case, gathered information and here say from the victim at hand. Now that I have dealt with the hard evidence and thoroughly processed the scene, I can now bother myself with the possibly inane suspicions of others. So what has Inspector Lestrade learned from the only victim in this interesting case?"

"According to the victim, Mr. Jones, who relayed his suspicions to Inspector Lestrade, the thief must be one among three individuals he once employed. He believes it was either the Butler, the Chef, or his Maid. But how are we to know which one it is, if it is in fact one of them?"

"The process of elimination, of course", said Holmes. "It has long been my belief that the little things are infinitely the most important. With this in mind my stout fellow, please review the facts as Inspector Lestrade has gathered them".

"Alright, Holmes, according to Inspector Lestrade's thorough notes the three suspects in question are as follows: The Butler, Mario R. Carlito, 45 years old, dark coloring his unique feature is a missing limb. His left arm was lost in the War", I glanced at Holmes who merely nodded, but the twinkle in his eye was not lost upon me. "The Chef, Thomas K. Anthony, is 32 years on, with light coloring and stands at the unusual height of only 5'2. And finally, the Maid, Jasmin, T. Raymore, who was described as "God awful in appearance, but brilliant at her job". She was a brown haired, blue eyed lady whose height saw her tower above most other women, and some men. She was unusually tall, 6ft and a few inches; and here is the most peculiar part, all of them has left the employee of Mr. Jones and gone on an extended vacation".

"Brilliant summation, and another perfectly executed move by the perpetrator!"

"Are you suggesting that the thief is the one who arranged the vacations?" I inquired.

"Why of course, Watson, to cast suspicion upon many person's would create an easier means of escape, would it not? Why, I couldn't have done it better myself! Except for a few glaring discrepancies that was purposely left to us, and some that were cleverly discovered by us, the thief might have well gotten away with it. But the answer should now be clear. By the process of elimination, one person is left" My friend looked at me as though all the pieces were as easy to combine as a Toddler's six piece puzzle. I shook my head and tried to concentrate. Was there something else I was missing, something vital? By the look in my old friend's eyes I knew I only had to ask, "Well Holmes, who is it then?"

Sherlock Holmes stamped out his pipe before returning it to the pocket of his overcoat and replying, "With a preponderance of evidence to guide us, and the final piece of the puzzle which has fallen into place, I must say Watson, the answer is obvious. But if the clues are not revealing themselves to you then I tell you this - it is the person whose ego got in the way - the one who used their true name..."


To be continued...


If you are clever enough, why not guess the answer yourselves, my ever brilliant readers!

Traveller

Inside my iced chamber my atomic structure vibrates so fast that I can't feel the cold. I can only observe what must be sub zero temperatures from the ice that frosts my enclosure, and my own breath which snow flakes around me.

Although I lay naked I am not exposed, the chamber has been designed with only one transparent window and it is directly in front of my face. I touch the glass and my heat melts the thick frost which settles there. I close my eyes and mentally go through the HUT's checklist. I imagine that the scientists whom I have hand picked are at the controls right now eager to begin.

Within minutes I hear the whir of the machine as the technicians begin the start up protocol. The thundering of it's engine reaches a deafening degree and I know it has begun. My vibrations take on a new intensity and I can feel the molecules in the air match my own oscillations as though I were a human tuning fork.

Suddenly the oxygen is sucked from what now feels like my coffin and everything becomes still. My last vision of this world is of Marie who stands safely behind the glass of my iced pod. She gives me a nervous smile and a weak thumbs up. I raise my arm to give her one back but darkness descends and within seconds I begin my travels. As I float in between universes I understand more about my own atomic structure than I ever have before. I am everything and nothing. The sum of my parts equal Zero. I am the big bang, the ultimate creation, I am God and Science.

I revel in this new found knowledge, this stunning revelation when suddenly I am whole again and standing naked in the rain. I raise my head to the skies and notice giant thunderheads rolling above. I glance down at my feet and the asphalt that lay under them. This new world seems surreal. My senses are so sharpened that it makes everything around me dizzying to look at. Suddenly every sense I have is tingling and I am bombarded by the feel of the rain, the smell of the asphalt, the sounds of oncoming traffic, the light from an SUV's headlights...

My eyes focus on the truck that is barreling straight for me, going much too fast for the conditions I now find myself in. My brain perceives too late something that the driver has already realized...I am in the middle of the road and I will never dodge the vehicle in time. In an instant I understand the irony and brace for impact. I close my eyes shut and pray my death is quick and painless so that when I am brought back to my world I am not broken and begging for help from the clausterphobic confines of that damned cold casket. The truck swerves and to my relief narrowly misses me. It's tires squeal in protest and it tips dangerously towards the drivers side. He over corrects his error and sends the truck into a terrifying death roll. Something is thrown from the vehicle and lands with a sickening thud upon the road a mere ten metres from where I still stand. I am frozen from my travels, and now from the horror I have inadvertently caused and stand stupidly looking at the twisted scene before me.

Finally the truck comes to a skidding stop 100 yards down the deserted road and I turn to seek out the driver when a voice weakly calls out, "mom?"

I look to the crumpled form before me and in a horrible instant realize...what I have done. I race to him, my feet slapping against the wet pavement and I crouch beside his broken form. The tears fall freely as I stare incredulously into the eyes of my son...

I clutch his tiny hand and he smiles at me. "You aren't mine" he states as though he understands that I am only a traveller, only a person who looks like his mother.

I can only shake my head and hold his little hand when he whispers, "I travel now too".

We leave together, hand in hand to the place between worlds. And in an instant I decide not to return to my body, to my own universe that I have left behind. It's true that I have succeeded in travelling to new realities, to new worlds, but I failed at accurately predicting my impact on them. So, with only the dead to greet my fellow scientists, they will declare my mission a failure, and the experiment will be abandoned in the search for something more attainable.

And so I remain, but continuously travel in between, alone and with company. For I am everything, and nothing.

The truest of travellers...

HUT

    The black sedan pulled into the parking lot, and screeched to a stop. I could feel my temperature rising - threatening to boil my blood and cook my insides as though I were a thanksgiving turkey.

    "Goddamn it" the driver shouted while reaching for my belt.

     I slumped over top of him, no longer in control of my body. I willed myself to keep my eyes open and attempted to speak. I begged my lips to form words. I had to get inside. I had to be contained. I needed my molecular structure to be cooled immediately and brought within acceptable levels of vibration. But no words would form, no orders would pass my lips. Unconsciousness descended and I floated in the void waiting for rescue...or damnation.

    "She's coming to" murmured a voice that seemed hollow and faint.

    My eyelids fluttered open and I peered into the face of a trusted colleague.

    "Marie?" I inquired, "Am I..."

   I raised my head and looked around the tiny enclosure. The capsule was small, just 18 inches high, and 3 feet wide. I touched the sides and felt the cool chill emanating from the walls.

  "Looks like you got me into the coffin just in the nick of time!"

   "You have no idea how close you came Carly. That was immensely stupid. You had a time frame. You should have stuck to it" She shook her head in frustration.

    "Don't start Marie, you aren't the one whose jumping tomorrow, are you? I may not come back. I - they- deserved a good bye".

    "You knew what you were signing up for Carly, for God sakes this is your project"

    "Yes I did, and I don't regret my decision, if this works...my god think of the implications. But they didn't sign up for this. My family never agreed to have their lives turned upside down. I had to give them something to hang onto, some explanation, and I refuse to regret that either" I glanced up sharply and stared at the woman whom I had grown so close to, the person who had helped design the experiment and silently pleaded with her to understand.

    "Alright Carly" she sighed, "Get some sleep...we'll start tomorrow".

   I smiled broadly, "Forgiven me already? You never could resist my eloquent charms".

   "Bull shit" she disguised behind a cough, "Go to sleep!"
  
   I watched her exit the room and wondered what it might be like...visiting another universe. I remembered our first theoretical conversations of inter dimensional travel - the science was young but exciting. It had recently been discovered that at a subatomic level it was possible to send an electron to a separate universe - for it to exist here and there, simultaneously. The now famed quantum physicist had cooled the electron to a drastic temperature and then deprived it of oxygen - which prevented the atom from vibrating. Somehow the combination created the perfect environment for inter dimensional multiverse travel.

   We worked from there, testing different theories, moving to more complex particles, eventually one celled organisms, and now after many years - the attempt for human uni travel, or HUT - as we dubbed it. Through gene manipulation and a regime of drugs I have created in myself a type of tuning fork. I vibrate down to my subatomic particles, the vibrations in turn keep me warm enough to survive subzero temperature with very little damage to my cells - the tricky part will be surviving oxygen deprivation - which is why my trip will be short to say the least. Without oxygen to vibrate my being, something I do not need help with, I will cease to exist here, and yet it will appear as though I never left. I will vibrate, but remain still. By definition, I will travel interdimensionally. In those few minutes I will jump from here to there and hopefully back again.

   I let out a puff of air which frosted the glass in front of me. Tomorrow I would leave this world for another and become a bigger part, of not only this universe, but hopefully the next.

Multiverse

   I lumbered up the steps of the oak porch, waddling back and forth, my pregnant belly threatening to tip me over like some damned teapot. I put my brass key in the lock and set the tumblers free - the door swung open with a signature squeal, announcing my presence. My husband looked up from the magazine he was reading, and smiled.

   "Hey babe" I said cheerily while dumping the insane amount of baby clothes I had just purchased on the leather ottoman beside him.

   "This baby's wardrobe is better than mine..." he teased.

   "That's not difficult" I replied with a wink, "Your sense of style suggests you're a colorblind hobo".

   He laughed out loud and the sound of his soft melodious voice immediately set me at ease. I plopped myself next to him and snatched the magazine from his hands. I glanced at it quickly and rolled my eyes.

    "I thought I married someone interesting!"

     "What? You're not a fan of science?"

     "Not when we could be discussing baby fashion"

      He leaned over suddenly making choking sounds and feigned noises of disgust while snatching back his reading material.

      "Please, string theory is much more interesting than what diapers you purchased or what burp cloths you got on sale"

      "Well I think the diapers and burp cloths will be more relevant to your life than any theory some lonely physicists concocts"

      "I think I'll need proof of that" he stated.

      "Well I'll let you change the first diaper" I replied with a wink. I somehow managed to pull myself upright and started to sift through everything I had purchased. I removed all the tags in preparation for washing  when my husband suddenly took my hand in his, startling me from my fantasies of motherhood.

        "Uh oh, I know that look!"

        "You do?" His eyebrow raised and I pushed it back down with my finger.

        "Yes" I said with a smile, "What's wrong?"

        I studied his body language as he slowly leaned back in our well used microfiber sectional. He then shifted and leaned forward again. I blinked in anticipation as he cleared his throat and once more settled into the sofa.

        "Before the baby comes, Drew!"

         "Right, sorry Carly. I was thinking that I might change careers..."


                          *                                                   *                                            *

I could see the room as though it were yesterday; large picture windows cast all the hues of the sun into my small but cozy living room area; and the dining room backed into glass french doors that led onto a beautiful wrap around deck. The dark hardwood floors, soon to be marred by the merciless acts of a rambunctious toddler, added to the mystique of the home's heritage based architecture. The walls were painted an off white,and proudly displayed pictures of our wedding day and soon to be son. Our kitchens red stained oak cabinets and floating island was set upon natural stone tile. All of the finishing touches were perfect for us. It had been the house of our dreams, only affordable because of the drastic down turn in the housing market.

I traced the lines I had scratched into my jail cell wall, 32 tiny scratches, representing each year of my life before it had ended so abruptly.

I thought back to the conversation my husband and I had carried on that day and wondered what might have been different...if only I had supported him in his desire to switch careers. Would we have been diverted from the hell we found ourselves in less than a decade later? If Marie, my inquiring roomate, is right that multiverses exist, then is there another me out there? A happier me? A me with a child who lived and a husband I never stopped loving? What if...


                        *                                                        *                                                *

      My first instinct was to denounce this suggestion out of hand, but a look in his eye stopped me in my tracks.

      "Alright, why now?"

      " I think the economy is possibly heading for a recession. I don't want to be an investment banker if that happens. I love you, and our baby, and I want not just a good life, but a stable one".

      "So what's the alternative?"

      "Cop"

     I almost laughed out loud because the idea of my investment banker husband taking on such a job was..well quite frankly... laughable. Instead I decided that perhaps the best way to serve my husband at this time would be to indulge his little fantasy.

        "Well, if that's what you want..." I said noncommitally
       
        "Really?!" He replied with a sigh of relief, "You won't regret this, I promise"
 
         He swept me up in a hug and swung me around our living room while grunting like an Olympic hammer thrower.

         "Phew" he proclaimed loudly and I responded with a playful punch on the arm.

         "Shut up!" I replied with a chuckle. I shook my head and couldn't help imagining what it would be like to be married to a man in uniform. Maybe if wouldn't be all bad...


        I fingered the photograph of my husband's police graduation and felt the same pride I did the day it was taken. Ten wonderful years later my husband turned out to be eerily correct and thanks to his new career path we weathered the economic storm better than most folks. Our beautiful green eyed boy, Benjamin, had also gained a sister in this time, something that could not have happened if Drew had lost his job. I couldn't help but smile at my good fortune. How can some people not believe in fate? Everything I have is a testament to it.

        "Mom!" Ben screamed at me from the top of the stairs shattering my train of thought into tiny  unrecognizable pieces, "Do you know where my favourite shirt is?"

        "Nope, because I haven't a clue as to what your favourite shirt looks like!"

        "It's the green one, with the skateboard on it"

        "Did you check your bedroom floor?" I screamed back at him.

        "Why would it be - OH - Here it is! Thanks mom." I heard him slam his door as he settled in for a weekend of video games and movies with his sister and their friends.

        The smile on my face faded as reality began to sink in. I gathered up the photo albums and slid a few meaningful pictures into the inside lining of my purse. I could only hope my belongings would not be searched thoroughly. I sighed and looked around one last time. I had everything I could ever want and hope for, and I was about to leave it all behind. Every second I stood undecided in my kitchen was a second that put my family, and all their lives at risk. I placed the note on the counter, a pathetic excuse of my need for space and absence, and stepped outside where a black, non descript car was idling in my driveway.

       "Hello Carly" the driver said as I settled into the passenger seat, "did you say goodbye?"

       "In my own way, yes."

       "Good, let's get back to the lab, there's no telling what kind of damage has been done to your DNA while you foolishly wasted time with trivialities".

       "My family is not trivial" I said between clenched teeth.

       "Of course not..." he murmured as he pulled away from the curb and from the life I had always known, always wanted, and would always desperately miss.





To be continued....

       
       

Reality

    I traced the lines scratched into the grey, brick wall and wished to add just one more. Another year, some more time, a moment even with the green eyed boy I had fallen deeply, and devoutly in love with. The mattress underneath my diminutive frame squealed in protest as I rolled onto my back. I closed my eyes and could almost make out the faint edges of his face, the smell of his hair, the crooked toothed smile which had always captured my heart. But it had been five long years since the last time I held him, and where at one time I was sure I could never forget him, now it seemed as though my memories were fading just as easily as his life had.

     I bit my bottom lip and stifled the tears that threatened to overtake me. It had been so long since any salted droplet had marred my face, but the knowledge that even my memories of him were evaporating was just too much to bear; the final cruel twist of fate in the finality of his death.

     "You alright, Carly?" my bunk mate asked. I ignored her as I have done since our first brief acquaintance.

     Despite all her efforts I had chosen to live life with as few connections as possible. In prison, those who stuck to themselves were apparently easy pickings, but no one had ever bothered to raise a hand to me, or even a voice. Marie had once said it was my eyes that frightened people. She said they weren't haunted, or even cold, they were merely empty. My lack of concern over life or death, mine or anyone elses confuses even the most hardened of criminals and compels them to give me a wide berth.

     "Carly? she inquired again while peeking at me from her position on the top bunk.

     "I'm fine"

     "Looks like you're crying" she replied in amazement.

     "So what if I am?" I retorted sharply.

     "It's no business of mine, I just never saw you cry before is all".

     "Well good for you" I muttered while focusing on her raven black hair which had created a curtain over us. I glanced quickly at her face and found that her honey brown eyes sought mine.

    "No girl", she said with a sigh, "Good for you". I was surprised by the genuine tone of her voice. I had expected another remark dripping with sarcasm. Instead this person I had barely spoken to in five years showed me a kindness I had forgotten existed.

    Before I could stop myself the words poured forth like a river that finally breached it's damn, and the onslaught of syllables seemed endless. My story though, was just as chilling as it had always been, and as I spoke I felt the familiar cool detachment I had retained all these years take over as I described in detail the death of my son, and the man I had subsequently brutally murdered.


                                 *                                              *                                           *

       I stood in the downpour anxiously waiting for their vehicle to turn the corner. My blond hair clung to my face even as the wind threatened to blow me over. I glanced at the sky and the clouds seemed to roll overhead, like the meanest waves on a merciless ocean, they swept away any light the moon might have created.

        I could feel my stomach churning just as the clouds were and I knew something was terribly wrong. They were half hour late, not so long when you considered that Andrew was always on his own time, but some terrible knowledge; some strike of motherly intuition as quick and as deadly as the lightening that flashed over head, urged me forward.

        I headed for my son's father's house. Jogging at first, refusing to let panic overtake me, but as the thunder blasted overhead I felt dizzy with a fear I hadn't known existed. I began to sprint, pounding the pavement with my white Nike runners which were now completely ruined by the deluge that had become my city. With each quickened step, I could feel my heart racing; pounding out the rhythm my feet created on the blackened asphalt.   

        The scene on the road before me stopped me so abruptly that I stumbled and fell into an ever widening puddle. My hands burned from road rash, my body shook as the freezing water claimed my rigid torso. Although all these sensations registered within me, I had gone completely numb. I lay still on my belly, eyes fixated on the twisted metal of, at one time, had been our car; and the broken body displayed before me. He must have been ejected from the vehicle. But it was his eyes that struck a cord so deep within me that the screams the night claimed as their own I hadn't immediately recognized to be my own. His gorgeous almond shaped eyes, the most brilliant green, were dulled by the putrid whisper of Death. My gorgeous son, my one reason for breathing deeply the wonders of this world, seemed to gaze at me with a saddened expression, as though he knew I would find him here like this, as though he knew the breaking of my heart would be heard out loud if not for the incessant thunder of this damned summer storm.

       I began to slither towards him, this beautiful gift I had been given and which had now been shattered and ripped from this earth. Arm over arm I made my way to him. Finally I was beside him, running my fingers through his wavy brown hair, whispering my love, my sorry's, my god damned platitudes.

       I glanced up as Andrew stumbled from the vehicle. He weaved a path towards me, rocking from side to side. He collapsed beside me, head within his hand, staring down at our son. I was repelled by him, this man, this careless son of a bitch who had accidentally snuffed out the life of his very own child. The wind ripped at his person and carried to me the reason for this tragedy. He reeked of alcohol. His sobriety of two years had cracked under god knows what pressure and torn from him his self respect, and now, the life of our son.

       Rage let loose within me, primal and eager. I jumped him, knocking him on his back, he didn't fight back, he had nothing left, neither one of us did.


                                        *                                             *                                       *

      I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. I licked my lips and continued.

      "Police were the first on the scene. They came upon me, beating his head into the pavement. It took three men to pull me off of him, my rage, my blinding agony, created a strength in my that can only be described as super human...or perhaps just... inhuman".

      "I'd have killed him too" Marie said simply.

      "I was wrong to do what I did, not because he didn't deserve it, but because now another mother is suffering just the way I did - do. Andrew wasn't a bad person, just a weak one, pathetic really..."

      The words I had never expected to hear myself say left me stunned. I had once believed I hadn't felt any regret for what I did on that horrendous, and destructive night.

       "You once told me that people feared me because my eyes held an emptiness they couldn't understand. But that emptiness is merely defeat. In one terrible night I lost my only child, and became a person I never thought I was capable of even contemplating. I don't have my child, and I don't have a self to return to. In a very real way, I died that night too."

       Marie pulled herself back up onto her bed and spoke aloud the thought that kept her up at night, if choices she had made were different, if the path she had taken had not led her here, "I was watching TV a couple weeks ago with some of the girls, a program about the idea of multiple universes. It got me thinking, that I would like it to be true. That somewhere out there is a me who never ended up here, talking to you - no offence- maybe a rich me, or a happy me, but I'd settle for just different, really"

      "That does sound nice" I responded while contemplating what I would change if I could.


                                                                   What if...











Stay tuned for another story venturing into the possibility that there are endless possibilities...