Caleb's beach house - Cape May, NJ
He’s back in his old bedroom, the one at his family home in Cape May, New Jersey. He’s once again a youthful nineteen, and happily riding out the first half of his second year at the University of Metropolis. Ah, the good old days of October 1992.
Through the window Caleb could see just how much the sight of Cape May in the winter months reminded him of Stephen King’s The Stand. In a way he thought it was sort of creepy. It was at best a temporary distraction, though.
An exaggerated sigh at his predicament accompanied his leaving his window and flopping down on his bed. Why me? My parent’s are bloody millionaires, and I can’t even be afforded an expense account or something? Stupid job .. stupid parents…
He sits up, and his eyes settle on the poster of Guns’n’Roses on his wall. It’s just not fair! I’ve only saved enough money to either replace the broken bed at school, or go see their concert. I mean, THEIR concert! Stupid, stupid parents! I work hard at class... can’t I be allowed -some- fun now and again? Conveniently, it escaped the young boy’s mind that his bed had, in the first place, broken only because he had fun slightly more often than now and again.
Then he looked down at the bed he was sitting on. The fact that the school wouldn’t accept it as a suitable replacement didn’t exactly occur to him - just that he might be able to have his cake and eat it, too. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right? Unfortunately that feeling, whatever it was, wasn’t around much. It seemed to come and go as it wished, but when it was around it was incredible! Anything he wanted it to do and POOF! Done! Maybe it could swap his bed here out for his bed at the University. Guns’N’Roses, here I come!
The feeling was slight, but there, and he decided to concentrate on it - all of it - and force it to translocate his beds. Several seconds of trying and failing later, he redoubled his efforts. After all, he was Caleb Alexis Zukov! He -never- failed! Or, at least not until right now ...
His concentration was broken as he heard some commotion in the hallway, followed by a loud thud. The trance prevented him from paying enough attention to the sound outside his bedroom to recognize it until it was over. Still, he rushed to his doorway, and then looked down the stairs. What he saw would be forever burned into his consciousness.
His sister - Amelia. She’d evidently fallen down the stars, and lay - unnaturally contorted - at their base. “AMELIA!” The panicked scream accompanied his hurried descent down the stars. Self centered and oblivious as he may have been at that age, his sister was something that meant a lot to him. They were both best friends and family, and more often than not all each other really had in the world.
“She’s barely breathing! Oh, god, oh, god!” He leaps over her body and dashes for the phone. He picks it up and dials 911, turning to see her mangled form as the phone rings. The sight of her on the ground like that was the last thing he saw before his eyes opened and he sat up. Now he was a thirty two year old, and was again in his apartment in Metropolis. It was just a dream. Well, a memory. A very, very bad memory turned into a nightmare. It happened from time to time…
As his breathing slows, Caleb gets out of bed and throws on his bathrobe. Making his way into the kitchen, he opens Corrine’s refrigerator door and inventories it’s contents. Quickly settling on a bottle of Citadell Vodka, Caleb grabs it and begins pouring himself shots. Even after all these years, he’d never managed to forgive himself for what he did on that day. He never would, either…
Through the window Caleb could see just how much the sight of Cape May in the winter months reminded him of Stephen King’s The Stand. In a way he thought it was sort of creepy. It was at best a temporary distraction, though.
An exaggerated sigh at his predicament accompanied his leaving his window and flopping down on his bed. Why me? My parent’s are bloody millionaires, and I can’t even be afforded an expense account or something? Stupid job .. stupid parents…
He sits up, and his eyes settle on the poster of Guns’n’Roses on his wall. It’s just not fair! I’ve only saved enough money to either replace the broken bed at school, or go see their concert. I mean, THEIR concert! Stupid, stupid parents! I work hard at class... can’t I be allowed -some- fun now and again? Conveniently, it escaped the young boy’s mind that his bed had, in the first place, broken only because he had fun slightly more often than now and again.
Then he looked down at the bed he was sitting on. The fact that the school wouldn’t accept it as a suitable replacement didn’t exactly occur to him - just that he might be able to have his cake and eat it, too. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right? Unfortunately that feeling, whatever it was, wasn’t around much. It seemed to come and go as it wished, but when it was around it was incredible! Anything he wanted it to do and POOF! Done! Maybe it could swap his bed here out for his bed at the University. Guns’N’Roses, here I come!
The feeling was slight, but there, and he decided to concentrate on it - all of it - and force it to translocate his beds. Several seconds of trying and failing later, he redoubled his efforts. After all, he was Caleb Alexis Zukov! He -never- failed! Or, at least not until right now ...
His concentration was broken as he heard some commotion in the hallway, followed by a loud thud. The trance prevented him from paying enough attention to the sound outside his bedroom to recognize it until it was over. Still, he rushed to his doorway, and then looked down the stairs. What he saw would be forever burned into his consciousness.
His sister - Amelia. She’d evidently fallen down the stars, and lay - unnaturally contorted - at their base. “AMELIA!” The panicked scream accompanied his hurried descent down the stars. Self centered and oblivious as he may have been at that age, his sister was something that meant a lot to him. They were both best friends and family, and more often than not all each other really had in the world.
“She’s barely breathing! Oh, god, oh, god!” He leaps over her body and dashes for the phone. He picks it up and dials 911, turning to see her mangled form as the phone rings. The sight of her on the ground like that was the last thing he saw before his eyes opened and he sat up. Now he was a thirty two year old, and was again in his apartment in Metropolis. It was just a dream. Well, a memory. A very, very bad memory turned into a nightmare. It happened from time to time…
As his breathing slows, Caleb gets out of bed and throws on his bathrobe. Making his way into the kitchen, he opens Corrine’s refrigerator door and inventories it’s contents. Quickly settling on a bottle of Citadell Vodka, Caleb grabs it and begins pouring himself shots. Even after all these years, he’d never managed to forgive himself for what he did on that day. He never would, either…