Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25825682-20150220060825

Four hours after the suns peak in the sky in April. Alexander Renbauld sat on the bench and faced the bright sand beach and its tall lighthouse. With a glazed look in his green eyes as the salty air brushed against him. He leans forward cupping his hands together as his elbows rested on his knees. He lowered his head facing the ground as his crop-cut, shag sandy-blonde hair dangled part way over the sides of his fresh face.

Alexander quietly sat and began to raise the heel of his black shoe and then brought his foot back to the ground with force rhythmically. “I’m sick of that therapy,” he muttered. “It’s n-n-n...” He uncapped his hands and hit the sides of his head with them. “It’s not helping,” he exclaimed. He ceased striking his head and gripped his hair as he continued facing the sand. Alexander lowered his hands releasing his hair and took a few deep breaths. At the same time a deep blue colored car drove up into the parking lot behind him.

A woman who looked in her late 40s walked toward the bench where he is sitting. The woman came up to Alexander’s left side, he could hear the sound of her shoes hit the concrete walk. He looked over toward her having a stoic gaze, “Mom, why are you here?”

“So you’ve been here,” she said sighing with relief. “I was looking all over town for you,” she conveyed brushing a fringe of her hair aside.

He leans on the bench and says, “I always come here to think.”

Alexander’s mother crossed her arms and looked at him with compassion. “Your therapist just called and told me you missed two sessions and you’ve been coming here instead to his office,” she gathered. Alexander turned his head from her, his eyes planning an escape from the confines of the topic. “You know it’s necessary to treat your stuttering,” she stated. His mother paced on the path trying to understand his reasoning.

Alexander stood up from the bench and put his hands in his jacket pocket. “I just two sessions, it doesn't bloody matter,” he remarked turning and walking away from her. Her eyes widened, stunned by his actions.

She came out from her sudden shock and walked up to him with force in her steps, and called out to him, “Alexander.” Alexander’s mother intercepted his path. He stopped and looked at her annoyed, believing she was going to pursue the topic of him missing his therapy. “What has gotten into you? You never walked away dismissing me,” she questioned. She put her palm on her chest and said to him, “I’m your mother. Something bothers you tell me or your father. Are you frustrated with the therapist or the therapy?”

Alexander leans on his left hip and raised his left eyebrow. ''Why’s she so dead-set on this? It’s my business that I want to stop the therapy, although she and dad are paying for it''. He looked at his mother trying to understand her position on the topic. He closed his eyes, and re-opened them relaxed, “The truth is I’m just tired. The treatment doesn’t feel like its working.”

“You honestly feel that way then I’ll call the therapist and cancel the sessions, okay,” she promised putting her right hand to the left side of his face.

Alexander wanted to agree, but could not muster confidence to say it. I want to say okay and be done with the therapy, but do I want to throw all that money away they spent on me to attend. Alexander and his mother made it back to her car and got in.

The course of the car ride home it started to rain lightly. Alexander sat quietly by his mother on the passenger side curled up in his seat and arms crossed comparable to a child. He stared out the window more or less in a trance riding by the 40 acre Mount Pleasant Cemetery. He looked toward his mother with solemn eyes and asked, “Mom, can we stop in the cemetery?”

His mother looked over at him and saw how genuine he looked. “Sure Alex, only for a little while though,” she answered. She drove them through the dark iron gate hanging grimly by its squealing hinges. Dark trees cast voided wraith shadows over the quiet, damp gravestones. The silence was eerie. The car parked at the bottom of a small hill, Alexander got out from the car. He leans in toward his mother saying, “I won’t be long I just have to say hello to him.” His mother nodded back to him in agreement.

Alexander closed the car door and rushed up the concrete path going up the low hill. Top of the hill he stopped near the Viser family burial plot and looked around for a specific name. He passed by large mausoleums and stopped before a granite gravestone with angelic figures carved around its surface. The testament read,

Here lies Eathan Viser, born June 24, 1997 - died June 24, 2013

Beneath this simple stone

That marks his resting place

Our precious darling sleeps alone in afterlife’s embrace.

Alexander sat on the grass with his knees up and arms wrapped around his knees facing the gravestone. “Hey Eathan, sorry I didn’t come last week. I was so sick of th-th-th...” he struggled to try to say the last part. “That bloody therapy,” he admitted. “I just want the stuttering to end. I can’t continue on doing a therapy that doesn’t help.” He lowered his head and said, “The constant Xanax I took made me shudder after I didn't have it. They made a switch to a less fast acting one because of it. I can’t stand taking these bloody drugs,” gripping his arms. “It’s like I depend on them to lessen my stutters.”

Alexander let go of his arms to avoid bruising them. He lifted his head and looked at his mother’s car and then moved his eyes back to the gravestone. “What would you chose in my place Eathan,” he asked and waited for an answer from somewhere. He sat there disappointed in not coming to an answer himself. “You would continue on with the therapy, so you wouldn’t have wasted your parent’s time and money,” he said cracking a smile. Alexander stood up having got that off his chest he could breathe easier. “See you next week Eathan,” he turned away and went back to his mother’s car.

Inside the car, Alexander sat in the passenger seat as his mother started the car again. “Listen Alex,” she said looking over at him in concern. Alexander looked at her wondering what she was going to say. “About the therapy, I’ll talk with your father and see how he feels towards me helping you with your stuttering.” His mother sat there with hope he’d take the offer. “Sound okay,” she inquired.

“Maybe,” he answered shrugging it off and then turned his head away to avoid the topic.

Her eyes narrowed in disappointment at his reply. “Think it over at least,” she replied, as she tried to find the words to sway his answer. She started the car and drove them home.

The next morning downstairs in Alexander’s home, Alexander dressed in a casual outfit of an orange T- shirt, blue jeans and black jacket. He ran through the hall passing the kitchen archway. He paused when he felt his stomach rumble. I’ll just get going before I end up late. He was ready to leave when his phone rang. He stopped for that moment looking toward his left backside jeans pocket.

Alexander reached into his pocket and answered his cell phone, “Yeah.”

“You’re up,” said his mother. “Did you eat,” she asked him.

Barely shuffling his left foot he replied, “Yeah I did.”

“No you didn’t. I know you,” scolding him. “At least eat a bit of it.” Alexander picked up the left half of the bagel on the plate. He saw it covered in cream cheese and took a bite of the bagel as she said, “Alright, I’ll let you go. I’ll be home tonight at nine.”

Alexander finished the first half and reached for the other half, and then he saw something out the corner of his peripheral right view. He curiously looked toward the farthest right side of the kitchen ceiling seeing a damp spot on the ceilings corner and water coming from it.

“Yeah, nine,” he responded curious at what he saw. “Did you notice a leak in the kitchen,” inquiring into the cause of the leak.

“Yes I did. Don't worry about it,” she assures him in a motherly voice. “I placed a few papers on the floor under it with a pot.”

Suddenly the phones connection began to scramble. Alexander looked at it with his left eyebrow raised higher than the other wondering what that noise was on his mothers end. The rains must’ve messed with it. His line disconnected which he somewhat expected from a scramble, so he sent a text to his mother to call him later. At the same time he looked carefully at the leak as he put his phone away watching the drip. Something about the leak made him not want to get closer, believing there would be dangerous repercussions. Leak or not I need to go. He ignored the leak and left his home.

Outside his home, Alexander noticed the rain hadn’t lessened. He groaned at this situation. Alexander did not hate the rain, but he did hope it would ease up during his walk to school. To him Alki seemed like any other place seen before in the state. Jutting out into Puget Sound, you can make a view of the bay from Hamilton Viewpoint. Present in the western part of Seattle, Alki beach is along the coastline. You can see the octagonal lighthouse owned by the Viser family matriarch Igia Viser, which can overshadow any tourist at the estimated 11.277 meters.

Alexander walked to school placing his hood on his head, and recalled what his father said to a friend, on Alki’s rain fall. In Alki October last `till July, then around mid-July it’s dry and departs in September. Alexander laughed and said, “That’s true and it’s only April.”

He was half way to the high school when he chose to lower his hood. Alexander figured the first person he’d see on the school grounds is Olemilia. He knew her well by her bright red hair, her green eyes covered by professional looking glasses, and her fair delicate skin. He’d often notice her in the creative writings class of the high school or being an avid reader like him nose deep in a novel. ''I wonder if she’s at school already. I have to give her back Ulysses since I’m done with it''. He put his left index finger over his mouth. Whatever, he shrugged. ''I’ll give it to her later; when the time comes she doesn’t mind. She knows I’m good for it''.

Later that day after school let out at 3:45 P.M, the rain started to pour heavy. The students ran hastily toward their cars or the bus avoiding as much of the rain as possible. Alexander and Olemilia ran toward her car. “Thanks for the lift,” he said trying to keep up with her.

“No sweat Alex, I wouldn’t make a dog go home in this,” she replied, as she used her schoolbag to cover her head. At her car, Alexander waited for her to unlock the doors. Over near the school buildings entrance a student named Arnold had just exited the school before the bus left. He stood with his messy brown hair and lean body frame getting drenched.

“Damn, that was the last bus,” kicking a rock off the steps.

The student looked around with his blue eyes and managed to make out Alexander’s profile near the left side door of a car. The doors were finally unlocked, so Olemilia and Alexander got in the car. She began to start her car as Alexander gazed out the window and saw a student coming toward her car.

Alexander narrowed his eyes to get a better look through the rain and questioned, “That isn’t Arnold is it?”

At Alexander’s side window, Arnold tapped at the glass and asked, “Could I get a lift home?”

His eyebrows became narrow as his mouth turned into a slight frown at seeing Arnold, “He couldn’t have asked someone else,” Alexander questioned.

“Stop being so heartless, besides it’s ridiculous out there,” Olemilia objected looking at Alexander with authority.

She unlocked the back doors and then he got in behind Alexander breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks, I appreciate this Mili,” Arnold stated.

Olemilia rode away from the school not minding the nickname he calls her. The three of them sat in the car quiet; the tension between Alexander toward Arnold grew thick in the air. She noticed how they both gazed out of opposite windows and became prompt to ask Alexander about class to break the silence. “So what will be your project Alex?”

“I figured I’d do it on the Alki lighthouse,” he answered shrugging.

“You mean the run down tower,” Arnold assumed in a snarky way. “Why’d you pick that of all places?”

Alexander darted his eyes back at Arnold. ''This bloody bugger, what do you care what I pick for my history project. You probably can’t even spell lighthouse''. “The lighthouse has a lot of histories in it,” moving his eyes back toward the window, “which makes it an ideal history project,” he contested.

He picked up on Alexander’s degrading tone and replied, “Well, I guess it makes sense for you to pick it then,” remarking on Alexander being old fashioned. Arnold began to contemplate on the opportunities it may present for him though.

“If you want Olemilia you can come too,” Alexander offered to her with an inviting gesture.

“Um,” glanced at Alexander, and then back on the road. “Sure I can come I guess,” she replied hesitant with the last words.

Time passed, the downpour became a light trickle. Alexander was at home and opted to get started on his project, so he headed to his room upstairs. He went by the kitchen and became curious on the leak from earlier. Alexander looked into the kitchen and saw the leak had dried. Guess the rains caused that leak earlier. Alexander re-positioned his backpacks right shoulder strap and went upstairs.

That evening Alexander was in his room working on his history project from his lab top. The T.V was on across from him showing the Ch.4 King 5 news. The top story being broadcast by the blonde anchor woman is of a death in Alexander’s neighborhood.

''Tragic news in Alki this evening a report just in, the body of a deceased woman has been found near Elliot Bay. The body being that of the twenty-five-year-old bank manager who disappeared less than two days ago. Sources tell us it’s alleged she drowned elsewhere and then her body had been dumped at the bay''.

''The police investigating the scene gave no comment to whether this death is related to the disappearances of two more people from Western Seattle or not. A reporter of ours asked Lt. Xavier Moss who investigated Eathan Viser’s death, are these victims more of the killers work or something else. He had this to tell us''.

The screen switched over to video footage of a police press conference on a brusque, dark haired man at the podium.

''There was no correlating evidence connecting the incident to what happened a year ago. We have not yet established whether this woman’s cause of death was homicide or suicide. I will answer no more questions on the matter''.

Alexander was not entirely focused on the story; his eyes trained more at his lab top screen. He did overhear the news broadcast though. He shuddered at another victim found in Alki. That’s the third victim this month; I hope mom and dad get home safe. He sat back in his chair, stretched and dropped his arms to his side. Alexander became unable to continue the project at the moment, for the only thought on his mind was the killer. Alexander tapped the floor with the back of his left heel, waiting for his parents to return home safe from work.

Within that moment he heard a tapping noise as if something is hitting one of the glass windows. Alexander jumps from his seat; his heart rate became fast resembling the wing beats of a trapped bird in a cage. His eyes darted from side to side trying to locate the noise. He overheard another tap sound and froze realizing it was at his window. Alexander went toward his closet with footsteps like a rabbit in the snow and opened it. Taking out a baseball bat he had from the time he was twelve, he motioned toward his window reciting instructions. Don’t panic, just assess what’s at the window and react.

Alexander reached for the curtain with his right hand and holding the bat tight in his left hand. The silence felt unnerving to him as his breath became deeper. Gripping his bat tighter, he pulled curtain back. His eyes surveyed the area at the window fast attempting to find the noise; a part of him in truth didn’t want to see it still. Alexander heard the tapping, his eyebrows slanted downward, and he peered through the glass. Alexander’s eyes softened at seeing an overgrown tree branch tapping his window.

“Huh, just a tree,” he said lowering his bat and catching his breath. Alexander sat on his bed putting his bat under the box spring. He fell back putting his left hand behind his head with the right on his stomach. Alexander laid thinking over the therapy he skipped as he closed his eyes. ''Dad won’t go for me abandoning another commitment, especially after I quit baseball and soccer years ago. I’ll tell mom tomorrow I’ll continue the sessions. Even though I’m going to be put back on bloody drugs again, it’s better than her putting off her job to give me therapy''.

Alexander opened his eyes and sat up remembering his project that is only a quarter ways done. He went over to his lab top and sat in front of it. ''I should email Mrs. Viser before I go visit her tomorrow asking to enter the lighthouse. Access there could get me the 100 percent I need''. He started typing away the email he was going to send.

On Wednesday the following afternoon, Alexander was walking up to the Viser manor through rainfall holding his body to keep warm thinking, ''the wind is unbearable. No wonder the temperature’s low out today''. He walked onto the porch and rapped at the door. From how big the manor house looked he knew to knock loud. Alexander hoped Mrs. Viser was home otherwise he’d look ridiculous standing there. While he stood, he saw how immaculate the yard is even after the endless storms this month. He imagined the yard stayed virtually unaffected by the rain in that way.

In time the door soon opened to Igia Viser a woman with straight, long raven black hair, a fair complexion and bright blue eyes. Seeing his drenched exterior took her aback at first glance, "Alexander, my word."

Alexander forced a childish smile embarrassed by his condition and replied, “Hi, Mrs. Viser.”

Igia moved to the side inviting him inside saying, “Come in dear.” She closed the door behind Alexander. “I can tell the therapy has helped you’re stuttering habit,” she abruptly stated. He paused after hearing that then looked at her as if unprepared to face a hurricane. Alexander frowned on the topic wondering why she said that unexpectedly. Igia came round and approached Alexander standing a space away. “Your mother told me over the phone of your... rash choice.” She folded her arms below her chest, “It’s none of my concern, but why’d you abandon something helping you?”

After hearing that his mother told her Alexander started to remove his jacket. His mouth twisted into a side placement creating a crease in the left cheek, “I needed a break. I didn’t abandon it,” correcting her.

Igia retrieved his jacket from his left hand and put it in the coat closet, near the front door. “That’s good to hear,” she said with a warm smile. She approached him, “At any rate is your mother aware you were coming over today?”

Alexander shook his head in denial, “No, just a quick visit. You see my bike’s at the shop for a new alternator.”

“Dear if I knew you were coming over I’d have come to get you,” she claimed.

He looked at her with disbelief, “You didn’t get my email yesterday?”

“My son constantly implores I start reading those more often,” fondly smiling at the thought. “I never got into the whole smart phone thing though.”

“It doesn't matter. I was hoping you could, well,” scratching his head, “allow me inside the lighthouse,” his lips tightened waiting for her response.

She quizzically looked at him, “What’s the reason?” Wondering why he wants to visit it against the tour schedule.

Alexander leaned on his left hip, “We have this historical project assigned to us in class and I need private access to it.” He moved a few steps closer to impress as if his physical presence portrayed his seriousness. “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, but I need the information to get enough credits to intern at the historical society.”

Arms folded Igia looked away from him tapping her right arm and digested what he told her. Alexander stood there somewhat apprehensive holding his breath, waiting for an answer. She ceased tapping her arm looking back toward him, “I see no problem with that,” she permitted.

Breathing a subtle sigh of relief, “Thanks, this will help my research.”

“But it will have to be two days after tomorrow,” she spoke raising her right index finger startling him from the abruptness. “That will be a proper time.”

Alexander’s eyebrows narrowed as his gaze shifted over toward the right. He cogitated on why she postponed the visit to that late in the week, but soon shrugged it off presuming her busy during those days. “Oh, that's fine,” he replied.

“Three thirty in the afternoon then,” she stated as she went to get Alexander’s jacket. After Igia gave him his jacket he put it on, and then she showed him out. He heard a voice echo in the outside air, “Be careful, the rain could turn fearsome.” Alexander waved his left hand back implying to Igia he understood and is okay in the rain.

Alexander had his hood up as he walked home. He listened to the rain patter on the streets and houses he passed. He saw the desperate people trying to get inside their houses or vehicles; while going through damp messes of water that encroach the sidewalks. Coming up to the next two floor house Alexander could make out different noises from the occasional sounds he was hearing. He heard strident shouts from inside the house, which carried a broken English accent Alexander assumed from Arnold.

He went on to overhear Arnold yelling at someone, “You’re doing this again, one day I won’t be here to clean up your crap.” The sounds shifted to a more raucous voice slurring on the words and shouting to Arnold, going to walk out like your whore mother. Alexander’s pace became faster from the last two things he overheard. The first was glass shattering comparable to it hitting a wall and then the sound of a door slamming followed which made him flinch. Alexander stepped over the curb and crossed the street heading for his home, ''No wonder he's so messed up. I still wish he'd bugger off me''.

Later that early evening, over on Alki beach maintenance workers were finishing the repairs on the lighthouse. One worker on the roof of the lighthouse was setting in new red tiles. An unexpected call came from the communicator. He grabbed the communicator off his belt and put it against his right ear. Being told to pack up before the rains came over he replied, “I finished the job up here anyhow.”

The communicator shut off, and he put it back on his belt. As he took the tools from off the roof one of the tools felt damp. He put the tool away and looked at his fingers seeing they were wet. He wiped his fingers on the right side of his jeans to dry, dismissing it as an early rain. Picking up his tool box he saw water drip from underneath it. The worker scratched his head staring bewildered at the box. He surveyed the roof tiles he just laid and noticed few leaked dark water. The worker rolled his eyes, “You have got to be kidding me these are new.” He started to descend the ladder to the roofs opening saying, “That’s the third damn time I fixed the spot and it still leaks. She’s paying extra for this crap.” He was below the roof’s level when he heard a strange noise like a foot stepping on the bathroom floor right after a shower.

The worker came from the opening and walked around looking for anybody, "Who's up here," but saw no one. He went back toward the opening assuming the noise was the tide. The moment he got into the opening he shivered and looked up seeing storm clouds move in over him. Suddenly out the corner of his eyes he caught a glimpse of something on the roof spaces from him. He looked over assuming a punk teen, "Go get high somewhere else kid." Yet after clearly seeing it he became terrified and retreated to the roofs edge as it came near him in grotesque movements.

Meanwhile a maintenance worker on the beach put his things in the truck. Unexpectedly a worker came falling from the roof screaming and hit the sandy beach! The remaining workers that did not leave were in shock while one called an ambulance to come get the injured worker. The ambulance arrived minutes later and asked them what happened as they loaded the injured worker in the truck. No one could give a cause since they assumed he just fell. The EMS workers tried calming the injured man to understand him, but the only thing he said was too incoherent to be useful. The EMS workers had to sedate him to stop his erratic movements and nonsensical outcry. 