Ch.4 Wedged in Darkness

We find our hero running for her life. She was running with a deadly secret in her hand and a strangers warning in her pocket. And if you have ever found yourself in Quinn's predicament (And, reader, I hope that you have not) you can understand the pain shooting up her legs. You can understand the tightness in her chest. And, furthermore, you can understand the uncertainty, the fear and the lingering doubt that began to claw at the back of her mind.

Quinn ran through Melba's streets, her mind tugging at the memories of Melba's maps she had spent so much time studying. She was on Stewart St. Storer St. brought you to Stognate St. which takes you out of the city to the north. But Quinn did not want to go to the north.

East. Slinky River was to the east of Stewart St. On that river was a boat cleverly disguised as a swamp. Her instructions were clear. If things went wrong (you and I both know that things went wrong) she was to run to that boat and they would bring her to the agency.

Quinn turned left onto Snow Ave which led straight to the river. What Quinn did not see was the man lurking in the shadows like a ghost, a silent deadly ghost.

Quinn crouched in the marsh at the bank of the river, watching the boat and searching for any signs of trouble. She could not see any. Although with vines and branches wrapped the way they were around the boat and with moss creeping it's way up the hull, it was difficult to see much of anything.

"You received my warning." A voice in the darkness whispered.

Quinn turned to face this new voice, her aching body tense and ready to strike. She turned only to find...no one was there.

"You received and you obeyed." The voice was behind her.

Quinn turned once more but again no one was there.

"Who are you?" Her urgent whisper escaped her lips.

"You know who I am...Adadora."

Quinn turned around once again expecting to find emptiness, but there he was, his face buried in the shadows. Quinn could only see a dark featureless shadow as he ran his hand through his hair.

"You're not...I knew I shouldn't have trusted that fool." He hissed. "You have the box?"

"Yes."

"Did you look inside?"

"I had clear, strict instructions not to. Who are you?"

"Well that's good. That makes my job a little easier." There was a snap hiss. "You can call me Wedge."

Quinn grabbed at her abdomen. Her vision became blurry. Her knees felt week and she began to sway. Everything was at a distance as if from a dream. Numbness enveloped her body and darkness began to close in around her. Her body crumpled to the marshy ground.

"But...why?" Her last words escaped her lips as Wedge gently pulled her fingers away from the matchbox...

Author's Note: Do you honestly believe I'm going to kill off my hero? Keep up and you will see :-)

Ch.3 Sequence of Events

"Don't accept the matchbox. The secret it contains can kill you. Run. For God's sake, run."

These words were neither written for Quinn (she already had the matchbox) nor were they encoded. Whoever felt the need to pen these words on a gum wrapper did not come from the agency.

Quinn looked up at the man she was dancing with. He winked playfully at her. But Quinn was in no mood to wink back.

"Why did you write this?" She asked in hushed, urgent tones.

He faltered. His gray eyes flicked to the back of the dance hall. His confidence was shattered and he began to stammer.

"I...I...was given...instructions. You...you have auburn hair. I was so...sure he meant you."

Time is a funny thing. Once wasted, time can never be recycled or reused. It's gone forever. If, for instance, you were in a race and you had to get from point A to point C in one hour, but you spent a half hour at point B, you can never get that half hour back. It's gone. It's been sucked into a black hole for eternity and time just keeps going. Time was something Quinn was running out of.

Risking a glance at her pursuer, Quinn saw her scanning the crowd. Her piercing eye searching for the fastest, simplest and most convenient way to get to Quinn.

At this moment, three things happened in quick succession. The sequence of events are as follows: First, the dance ended. Second, a stranger stumbled backwards into Quinn's pursuer. Third, Quinn ran.

The city of Melba is an isolated, wealthy city. It's residences refused to believe the outside world existed. Thus, this was the perfect city to hold the world's most important, and apparently most dangerous, secret. They ignored what they did not understand. Thus, Quinn was very much ignored as she ran through the unknown streets of Melba. She didn't know where to go. She didn't know what she would do.

"Don't take the matchbox. The secret it contains can kill you."

Quinn began to wonder what secret this matchbox contained...

(Authors Note: Although the city mention here is real (it exists in Idaho) I would like to mention that it's description is fictional and in no way reflects in any way on it's actual residences)

The Trouble With Machines

For those of you who are interested in hearing Quinn's story, no worries. This is only a brief interruption and I will continue her journey later on this week. 

I am beginning to feel that machines (particularly computers) are  made by the devil himself. What's the point in having a computer that is going to save time if you spend all that time you save fixing it? I have spent every work morning complaining to my father (to say he loves computers is an understatement) that my program, quickbooks, refuses to work. I can't work without quickbooks. All the time that I save by not writing everything in a ledger is now wasted with fighting for domination over a machine. It's a war that will never be won. 

The next problem with computers: what works on one computer may not work on another. What's the point in that? What works on Windows 7 may not work on Windows Vista. And forget Windows XP. That's "old school" now. Nothing seems to work on that anymore. By the time the average person can afford to upgrade the computer, the company already has a new one out and what you are using is now out of date and unused. ARRRRRRRGH!

Problem number 3: the computer virus. I never thought I'd have to call a doctor for my computer. But, sadly, in todays world, computers now host "viruses". Oh, and to make it all better, these "viruses" don't just infect your computer. They travel and infect other computers as well. What am I supposed to say? "Sorry. I can't go out today. My computer is contagious." And now we're back to the original problem of wasting time on fixing the computer. I need a good supply of aspirin to keep my computer running. I don't have that much aspirin!

Does anyone else feel my pain here? Am I the only person here who sees the problem with these things? What ever happened to the good, hard working and never fails pen and paper routine? 

Ch.2 Quinn's Precarious Decision

The problem with hats for a disguise lies in it being niether perpetual nor entirly persuasive. If, for example, your pursuer were a stranger who was trying to return a gum wrapper (which contained a phone number along with encoded instructions) that you dropped, your pursuer would be disoriented by your disguise. The result thus being you never received your encoded instructions and the person you were supposed to meet begins to believe you dead.

However, if your pursuer is a cold hearted woman with a glass eye, a permanently furrowed brow and a scar from her left temple to the top of her left lip (a scar you had given her in the past), your pursuer would soon see through your disguise and begin her malignant scheme.

Of this fact, Quinn was very well aware.

As Quinn took the hand of her neighbor to begin a swing, she felt a gumwrapper pressed into her hand. Momentarily distracted, she looked up at him and he smiled down at her.

"It's a bit stormy tonight, eh?" Was all he said to her.

Quinn had never seen this man in her life, but she knew the meaning of those words. Number One: she was not alone. Number Two: Something hadn't gone wrong. Everything had gone wrong. Accepting the gum wrapper was sign of trust. Trust was not something Quinn gave away easily.

Hesitantly, Quinn took the wrapper. And as this stranger swung her around, Quinn saw her mistake. The wrapper had not been meant for her...

Ch.1 The Matchbox and Red Tie Affair

She stared at the dance hall. Her eyes riveted to the rhythm of the crowd. She held nothing but a box of matches which contained a very important message and a hat. Hats work as great disguises if your being followed. Once you turn the corner, you put the hat on but the person who is following you isn't looking for a hat. He's looking for a head of auburn hair. She quickly put the hat on and made her way into the crowd. Her instructions were simple, clear and precise. She was to find the man in the pin striped suit and red tie. He would be there, to the right of the stage, dancing with a girl who also has luxurious auburn hair. She was to dance with him and slip the match box into is hand as they began a promenade.

But something had gone wrong. Shee had followed her here and now she was searching for her. Yes, she found a man in the pin stripe suit, but he was dancing with someone else and he was not wearing a red tie. The man she was truly looking for was not here and her follower was one step behind her. So she did the only thing she knew.

She had been following the rhythm of the crowd with her eyes and now she quickly made her way into it. She heard the music and could feel her body moving to the rhythm but her mind and heart were on the task at hand.

There he was in the window. The man she was looking for, she was sure of it. But he was not dancing and he was not looking at her. He was running. He was running and pulling the girl with auburn hair behind him.

Something was wrong. Quinn felt all alone in the dance hall with her follower coming for her and the match box still in her hand. This match box which contained the biggest secret in all of human history. This could change the fate of the world...

The Stench of Spiders

My flashlight illuminated my way into the dark opening. I stared blankly at the 1 1/2' by 3' opening into a crawl space. I began to hate myself for the sudden fear that instantly washed over me. The small space was dark and damp and I could only think of one thing. My stomach heaved as I recognized the loathsome stench. It was the stench of spiders. I could almost hear the sound of their legs as they crept toward me, their unsuspecting prey. I could almost feel their teeth sinking into my skin, releasing their venom. 

But I was prepared. I held the hammer high above my head ready to lash out at the first spider I saw. A few of their webs became entangled in my hair. I quickly brushed them away as best I could. The soldiers were coming, marching across the dirt and I couldn't become distracted with webs in my hair. 

"I need the hammer." My father's voice interrupted my thoughts. Reluctantly, I pulled myself half into the crawl space and turned my only defense over to my father. I was now defenseless and positive I had seen a brown spider retreating into the shadows, waiting for me. I looked down at my hands, which were now covered in dirt and grime. Perhaps this served as a form of camouflage. I contemplated this and decided (rather quickly) that the only answer to that question was a resounding "NO". They had seen me and they would be coming. 

Dad returned my only weapon to me. I relaxed as I became armed once more. The nightmarish battle field was soon over. I stepped out into the sunlight as the breeze tickled my skin. I wiped away imaginary spiders. "You can't smell spiders." Dad complained. I'm pretty sure he was wrong. In the end the only casualty came to an unsuspecting wood tick that had made it's way up my arm. But I'm still nauseated from the stench of spiders. 

Music To My Ears

Tell me (anyone who reads this, comment on  this) what is your favorite part of the convention? Is it the excitement of a new release? or Is it the lesson found in the drama? or Is it an embrace from an old friend? or Is is the comfort of the Christian brotherhood?

My favorite part of the convention is the music. No, I don't mean the songs you sing before, after and in the middle of the sessions. Nor do I mean the music you listen to just before the session starts. While the music is always beautiful, I'm not speaking of this music. I am speaking of a deeper music. This music moves me to my very soul. The melody is a reminder of Jehovah's blessing. The notes ring loud and clear of Christian unity. It is not difficult to hear this music. You do not have to strain your ears to hear it. You must however take the time to listen. Listen to the buzz of your brothers and sisters as they enter the civic center. The center had been silent only a moment ago, but now, now the music grows in volume and intensity. The sound of friendly conversation, where only a moment ago, there was none. The sound of laughter as we left the depressing world behind us. The sound of troubles and concerns from this system being dropped at the door to be replaced by joy and love and relief from this old system. This is the music of happiness; the music of our Christian brotherhood. This is music to my ears.

Can you hear it?

Commencing Lift Off

Well...this is new for me. I have never blogged before and I was trying desperately to think of what I should blog. Can you believe that? It took me over 15 minutes to come up with something. Isn't that pathetic?? Please, don't comment on that question. So, after much debate with my advisor (you know who you are), I've started a blog. When you think about it, what is a blog? Is it not just a journal? An online journal that you can thus share your thoughts, your life and everything else. OK, so this is it. 

I would like to commence this blog with an explanation of Manic Monday. No, it has nothing to do with the song. I hate Mondays. I have repeatedly said that Monday's are like a desert. A delicious looking pie topped with ice cream and fresh out of the oven. But, when you bite into this pie, you realize there is no filling and the ice cream is fat-free sugar-free. What's the point in that? I really do hate Mondays.

So, I have called this blog Manic Monday because I am going to blog every Monday (that is my goal at least). My hope is, that it will give me a good reason to enjoy Monday's. Besides, no one wants a boring blog, so I have all week to find interesting things to blog about :-) Yes, I realize it's Friday. But I had to start sometime, right? Today was as good as any. I will blog again on Monday and I promise I will have something a little bit more interesting.