I couldn't shake what happened last night. The stress had been building for days and maybe it just pushed me over the edge. Nonetheless, It's weird. I had never had any problems with fainting. It had to be a coincidence, but still makes you think. I was off kilter and needed to get back in my groove.
What better to get your groove on than the legend himself, James Brown. I like to pride myself on an extensive Brown collection: "I Got A Feelin'," "I Got You," the list goes on. I know my stuff. What I don't have, however, is "A Soulful Christmas." I know, I know, not the best holiday album, but it's almost Christmas, and I could use some spirit.
It was too cold to walk, of course December should be, but this was different. I made my way to the garage on 3W, rounded the corner and there she was. I hadn't been in my car in ages now that Colombia was on winter break, let alone driven in the snow. I turned on what James Brown I did have and floored it. My heart was pumping, I felt alive for the first time in days.
I was in control of my life. I loved it. That control, however, quickly slipped from my fingers as I swung onto Magnolia, hit ice and slid onto the sidewalk. "Dammit!" I couldn't help but yell, everything had been going so well, I forgot the stupid chains.
I slammed the door behind me as I got out to check out the damage. It was fine, but there was still a small dent in the bumper and the entire side was scratched. "You dodged a bullet, I've seen some nasty injuries around here," came a voice from behind me, "Chains?" I spun around to face Frederick Hanky, an old classmate. He had pulled beside me in his truck. "Yeah, I got lucky," I sighed.
"It'll need to go into the shop, but still... Hey, Marshal, didn't you have a weird blackout yesterday?"
"Yeah, and heard something weird."
"I read the story... me too."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he hesitated, "Don't you think its weird? On the same day."
I had thought the same thing, "With all that's been happening? It doesn't feel right."
"It doesn't feel natural. It wasn't a coincidence," he whispered shakily.
“Maybe.” I stared past him.
I got back into the garage, but there was a man in my way. I recognized him, he looked pale, and he was bleeding…
Mr. Evans.
