Tag Archives: fear

Green River Road – 1732

Green River Road

II   Green River Road – 1708

III   Green River Road – The Maldonados

IV  Green River Road – 1716

V   Green River Road – Walker

VI   Green River Road – 1724

VII  Green River Road – The Hensons

VIII  Green River Road – Maty

IX  Green River Road – Andersons

Maty stayed on his knees, in front of that door for a very long time. He is tired, he is confused, he is angry and he is scared. He just wants to get away from this street, away from these houses, away from this voice.

He doesn’t understand what is going on, why he is here, what he needs to do. He just knows that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get away and seemingly no one knows he is there. These damn houses that appear when he walks up to them, what do they mean? What is he supposed to find in them?

When he tries to get away, that damn voice keeps telling him that he has to help these people, that he must find the answer. The answer to what? He stands and makes his way to the street, not knowing what to expect next or which way to turn. Last thing he remembers is being in Doug’s Mustang, making a delivery. Next thing he knew he was standing on this block of burned out, broken down houses.


He freezes, looking around frantically, did he hear something? Someone saying his name? Or is that just his imagination playing with his head again?

“Maty!” It was louder this time, someone is calling his name. He looks around some more, runs to the street looking all around. Nothing, just like before. He turns and runs back to the house that he had just left, number 1732, Heather Anderson was the name he had heard when he went in.

“Hello? Who’s there? Where are you?”

“Maty, can you hear me?”

“Yes! For Christ sake yes! I’m here! Help me!” Maty yells out.

“Maty, we need you to help us here, we need you to stay strong and fight this. Can you hear me?” It is definitely a female voice, but he did not recognize it.

“Fight this? Fight what?”

Maty stands and waits for a response, but there is nothing but silence. He doesn’t understand what any of this means and what exactly he is supposed to fight. He needs to find a phone, he walks over to the door and tries the door knob again, but it is locked. Each house that he had visited has been stranger than the one before it seems, he really doesn’t want to find the next house because God only knows what might be waiting for him there. Then he hears a sound. A low, muffled, rumbling noise coming from the direction of the street. It’s a car. He runs to the street.

There, right in front of the walkway he just emerged from is Doug’s Mustang. The car that he had been driving when all of this started. He runs to the driver side door and tries to open it, but it is locked. “Dammit!” Maty blurts out, pounding his fist on top of the car. He runs around to the passenger side, it’s locked. Just then, an explosion of glass flies up all around Maty, the windshield and rear window disintegrate into small shards of glass, as if they have been shot out from inside the car. Maty covers his head to try to avoid the flying glass, when the side windows also shatter into small pellets of glass, raining down all around Maty.

Once he can’t feel the pieces of glass hitting him anymore, he opens his eyes and looks at the car. It is empty, no one inside, but the engine is still running. His cell phone is sitting in one of the cup holders in the center console, right where he had left it. He starts to reach for it, but draws his arm back just in time as the top of the car smashes down, as if something very heavy has just fallen on the car.

“Shit! No!” Maty stares at the car in disbelief as the front end starts crumbling into twisted metal, and then the back end. It is as if two walls were pressing on opposite sides of the car, turning it into an accordion. All he can do is watch as the car is somehow being demolished right in front of his eyes by some invisible force.

“What’d you do Maty?” Came a voice from behind him. Maty turns around quickly to see Doug standing there, with a gun pointing right at Maty’s head.

“Doug! Oh thank God you..” Maty says excitedly but is cut off.

“Shut Up! What did you do man? What happened to the package? I need the package I gave you!”

“What?” Maty looks at his friend. “What pack…..” Suddenly he feels a burning pain in his left shoulder, Doug looks at him, cocking the gun, readying it for another shot.

“Next time it is between the eyes, now where is the fucking package?” Doug stares coldly at Maty, barely moving, barely blinking.

“I don’t know. It was in the trunk where you put it.” Maty turns and looks at the destroyed Mustang sitting in the street. “I never took it out, I hadn’t made it to Burlington when…..”

“When what?” Doug demands.

“When things started going to hell. I ended up on this street and had no way of getting out and……wait, how did you get here?” Maty looks up at Doug as he pulls the trigger on the gun that is pointing right between Maty’s eyes. Everything seemed to go into slow motion as the hammer starts to move forward on the pistol, and then…..click. Maty just stares at the gun, frozen in fear. “No man, it isn’t my fault. I don’t know how I got here and don’t know how to get away.”

Click. “Shit!” Doug yells and moves toward Maty. Maty turns and starts to run down the street, clutching at his wounded shoulder as he does. He runs away from the house at 1732 Green River Road toward the direction of the next house. His mind is racing a thousand miles per hour at this point, trying to figure out whether he wants to head in the direction of a new house, or if it is better to stop and try to reason with his friend who was acting crazy right now. Maty stops and puts his left hand up in the air, having lost feeling in his right arm by now.

“OK. Man, I can’t do this anymore. If you want to shoot me over that damn package then go ahead. I’d rather be dead than to stay here. I don’t know what happened to get me here, or why your car looks the way it does or where the package is, but I just can’t do this shit anymore.” Maty waits for Doug to say something, or for footsteps or something, but it is deathly quiet. Slowly he turns around to where Doug and the car are, but they are gone. There is nothing left, no Doug, no gun, no car. Maty just stares up the street, tears running down his face.

He turns and walks toward the next house.

Waited Too Long?

He looks at his boarding pass as he walks down the aisle of the airplane. ‘18E, damn middle seat again.’ he thinks to himself. ‘Terminal didn’t seem that full, maybe I’ll get lucky.’

12, 13, 14 ….. Spotting the first available overhead space, he shoves his laptop case into the bin and makes his way to his seat. He looks at the row of three seats and sees a man sitting in the window seat, already buckled in and fast asleep leaning against the window. Aisle seat is open so he sits and he hopes.

He watches people as they walk past, just waiting for someone to tell him that he is in their seat, forcing him to sit in the dreaded middle seat. But it never happens. They walk past, looking at their seat assignments and then up to the little placards above each row, then move on. One minute until cabin door is closing and no one coming down the aisle, he sighs a sense of relief that he will not have to sit in between two people for the entire two hour flight.

He latches his seat belt and takes out his book and starts to read. Reads a couple pages and then drifts into thought, same thoughts that he was having in the terminal. ‘Just so tired of this. Tired of everything. When is it going to change?’ He sets the book down as the flight attendants go through their usual routine about emergency exits, seat belts and oxygen masks.

He tries to focus on his book, but his eyes are too heavy. Deciding to put the book away and rest for a couple minutes, he turns the overhead light off, looks behind him to see if anyone is sitting there before reclining his seat, he leans his head back against the rest.

Seems like only minutes later, someone is tapping on his shoulder. The man in the window seat is looking at him “We need to get off, we’re here.”

“Already?” he replies, “wow, must have been more tired than I thought.”

He looks around the plane and sees that there is no one else there. Not sure what is going on, he turns back to the man by the window quizzically “Where is everyone?”

“They got off, which is what we need to do” the man replies.

“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to hold you up.” The man just shrugged as he shouldered past him to go down the aisle. He starts up the aisle, grabbing his laptop case and heads toward the front of the plane. Expecting to see an angry flight attendant or pilot at the front of the plane, there is no one. Walking up the endless walkway to get into the terminal, he is surprised how quiet it is.

Exiting the tunnel into the terminal, he is alone. Completely alone. No one at the ticket counter, nobody sitting in any of the gate areas waiting for flights. Nothing. ‘What the hell is going on?”

He makes his way toward baggage claim, looking for some sign of life, any sign. As he walks past the food court, he sees a solitary figure sitting at one of the tables, just staring at him. He starts to walk towards him to see if he can ask what is going on.

“Excuse me, sir?” The man just continues to stare at him.

“Sir? Can you tell me where everyone is?” he asks.

Sit down, I’ve been waiting for you” the man kicks out a chair.

“Yeah….no thanks. I need to get home. Was just asking where everyone is”

“They’re gone. Now please sit down.” the stranger says..

“What do you mean they’re gone?” he asks, refusing to sit down.

“Sit your ass down and I will tell you!” the stranger says with such conviction that he seems to sit down without even thinking about it. “You waited too long. And now they are gone.”

“Who’s gone?”


“That’s impossible!” he demands, anger boiling up inside of him

“Really? Is it? Try to call Evelyn.”

“How do you know my wife’s name? Who the hell are you?” he yells.

“Try to call Evelyn.” the man says to him again calmly, no expression on his face.

He pulls out his phone and presses the phone button. Evelyn’s number will be right on the screen since it was the last number he dialed before he had to turn it off after boarding. But there is nothing on his screen. He checks the call log, but it is empty. ‘Stupid cheap ass phone’ he thinks as he tries to recall Evelyn’s actual number. Dialing, he presses the green phone icon to place the call, and hears an automated voice.

We’re sorry, but the number that you are trying to reach is no longer in service, please check. . . .”

He ends the call and redials, making sure this time that he is entering the right number, must have got it wrong the first time. Same message. Tries three more times, same results.

“That’s strange, her number was working earlier.” he says aloud

The stranger reaches over and takes the phone out of his hands. “You won’t be needing this anymore,” and he gets up to walk away.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

The stranger stops, looks at him and says “You cannot go through life just saying that you are going to change. At some point you need to make a decision and do what you say that you are going to do. Making empty promises to yourself to change is not going to make a change. Everyone is tired of waiting, so now they are gone. You are on your own from here.”

“On my own? But. . . .what if I change? What if I do change? Will they come back?”

Stranger turns away as he says “Too Late.”

Left sitting on his own in an empty cafe, he sits and looks at his hands again, wondering what happened. ‘Now what?’ he says to himself. Just then something hard rams into the back of his left shoulder, and then continues to press against him, forcing him to shift to his right.

“Watch your elbows please.”


“Sorry about that, thought you heard me say that I was coming through.”

He looks up to see what was pushing against him.

“Sir, would you like something to drink? Coffee?Water?Soft Drink?”

“No….no thanks.” he looks over at the man in the window seat, still asleep leaning against the window. “Am I really too late?”





My Personal Cause

The internet has recently been swept up by the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Is there a cause — social, political, cultural, or other — you passionately believe in? Tell us how you got involved — or why you don’t get involved.

This was the question for the day. For me, there is really only one cause that I am passionate about. . . .Recovery. I am not ashamed that I am in recovery from an addiction. It was bound to happen. Either recover or die is how I look at it. I am not going to go into horror stories of my addiction or preach that there is only one way to recover, all I can really tell you is that I am very passionate about recovery and willing to go to any lengths to recover and to help others to recover.

To me, the only reason that addiction is a touchy subject is that most people do not understand, or even want to understand about it. That used to bother me, but there really is nothing I can do about those people, except pray for them. Pray for them that they get everything out of life that I want out of life. After all, don’t we ALL want the same thing? To find happiness in our lives? To wake up every day knowing that we serve a purpose? Knowing that there are people out there that do understand us and are willing to help us, with the only caveat being that we be willing to help those that come after us. “Passing it on” is what they call it I believe.

As I write, a lot of my thoughts are directed by what I have learned, and what I am learning every day in recovery and hope to learn the rest of my life. I am not any different than you or anyone else, am no longer terminally unique in thinking that no one else understands. Give them a chance to understand, eventually you will find people that do and that will love you with no strings attached. They ARE out there, just have to be willing to let them help. Sounds easy, harder than hell!

That’s all I got today.

See Ya