Firefox Users: Please use the links at the bottom. Thank You.
Resurrecting Ghosts
by CJ Bolden
Chapter 1
Resurrecting Ghosts
Peter
stood there, waiting for his turn to go through this ritual yet
again. He presented his ID to the guard behind the thick glass
window. He emptied his pockets, removed his belt, and then took his
walk through the metal detector.
He’d gone through this process many times, only to be turned
away in the end. So
today, he was both shocked and relieved when he was escorted to the
room to wait. He looked at his watch and then at the big clock on
the wall as if one would say something different than the other. He
crossed one leg over the other and every now and then he would
uncross and cross again.
On
the first and the third Saturday of each month he made this trip,
and every trip proved to be a waste of his energy, effort, and
money. After six months of being rejected, he’d cut his visits down
to only once a month. In between visits he wrote letters, sent
stationery and stamps, hoping for just a note in return…but nothing
ever came. Twenty one months of going through this ritual and, even
though he had been turned down each time, he never once thought
about ending his visits. He felt he had no choice in the matter; it
was his attempt of returning a deed from long ago. No matter how
many times he had been rejected, he vowed to never stop trying. He
came with no preconceived hopes or expectations, so whatever happened would be ok.
Today, he was still in a state of utter shock. Instead of being
turned away, like so many times before, this time he had been
escorted to a cold, lifeless room and told to wait. So, here he sat,
waiting anxiously, in a place he had never wanted to be. Sitting
here, staring through a door of bars, alone in this cold, dank and
dismal place, made his skin crawl. Besides the big clock on the
wall, the only fixtures in the room were an old, wooden table and
two, wooden chairs. There were many marks, scratches, names and
initials carved into the table top. It bore the scars of many years.
Every mark on the table was reminiscent of the wide array of
emotions of the people who had assembled themselves around it. He
sat looking at each name and initial and wondered about the story
behind each one.
The
tip of his ring finger tapped the table, keeping time with the
ticking of the big, black clock that hung on the wall. It was so old that the black
paint had almost disappeared from its sides. The number six had
become unhinged and hung sideways,
looking more like a crooked number nine. Each tick of the clock
seemed to echo in the stillness. He didn’t know if it was really
that loud, or only seemed that way,
because he was a massive bundle of nerves. He sat motionless, his
head reeling from the sea of thoughts that flooded in and out
like rushing waves on a stormy day. His stomach fluttered and
each time the clock ticked,
his heart seemed to skip a beat. He was nervous, but he was also
thrilled to be sitting here. He had been waiting a long time for
this moment. Now that the day was here, he prayed that it would not
be in vain.
Looking around, this gloomy room, he
tried to gather his thoughts. In his mind, he spoke to himself, over
and over, summoning up the strength and courage he needed for his
task at hand. Resurrecting ghosts from the past seemed inevitable.
It made him uneasy just thinking about coming face to face with
memories that he’d fought so hard to forget. Bringing up the past
reminded him of throwing up, just a little bit, enough to reach the back of your throat before
it changed its mind and went back down again. It was disgusting, and
it always left a nasty taste in your mouth. Dredging up the past was
just like that...it was not always easy,
but sometimes it was necessary; like now.
Suddenly there was a loud clap. The barred door slid open,
banged shut, and he
cringed. The feeling went down his spine and all the way to his feet
and curled his toes. Two men stood at the entrance;
one in handcuffs and the other packing nothing but pepper spray. The
guard said not one word as he unlocked the handcuffs, then shoved
the awkward young man in the direction of the wooden chair that sat
on the other side of the table. For a moment he stood looking at the
two of them, glancing from one to the other, before making up his mind to exit. He opened the barred door
again, walked through,
and once again slammed it shut behind him. It was loud and
intimidating and again Peter cringed. It was a sound that injured
your spirit every time you heard it.
In the hallway, with his foot propped up behind him, the
guard rested against the wall. His piercing eyes never left the two
of them.
With
an outstretched hand he greeted the young man “How are you?”
he asked as he studied the young man’s face.
“I’m Peter, Peter Porter.”
He couldn’t take his eyes away. “It’s nice to finally see you”. His
breath caught in his throat and held there,
for a moment, just
looking at him.
“I’m
doing ok, or as good and can be expected up in here.” Dre’s answer
was cool and, matter of
fact, and he ignored the outstretched hand.
“Not much longer to go now, so it’s getting better everyday.”
They
sat for a moment, each watching the other,
no words passing between them. Peter was remembering back to the
last time he had seen this boy. Dre’ had not been quite a year old.
That was the day that his life would change forever. It was hard to
believe that baby had grown into the man he now saw before him. How
time does fly, he thought.
It’s amazing how life catches you, wraps you up, and before long time has slipped away right before your very eyes.
It escapes so quickly…like
sand flowing through your fingers.
Dre’
studied the old man’s face, his eyes, and the way the corner on the
right side of his mouth nervously twitched. His hair was mingled
with silvery, grey streaks. There were creases at the corners of his
eyes that became more prominent when he smiled. His face had a
rugged, weathered look
that made him think of soft leather. He looked virtually harmless.
Still, he could not fathom why anyone would be so persistent, unless
there was some sort of revenge in mind. Twenty one months of
rejections and this man was still coming around.
In
his mind he tried to remember the faces of the people he’d violated.
He’d been on the streets for a while, and there was no way he
could possibly remember every person he’d victimized. There was
nothing about the old man’s face that was familiar. Maybe he was
looking to right a wrong, not for something done to him,
but to someone that he cared about. He had to pick him apart to find
out. The last thing he needed was to get out of here, and become
prey for some chump coming out of the woodwork, jumping him at the
first opportunity.
He’d
done so many terrible things,
so vengeance was the only answer he could come up with. The
question was, what kind of payment was the old man in search of?
What kind of payback could he get here,
under the watchful eyes of the guards? He had been stripped of
everything that could have been used as a weapon. So, what kind of
punishment was he seeking?
He kept asking that question over and over in his mind.
He was set to be released in a month; he needed to know if
this persistent man would be out there lying in wait for him. So,
when the guard announced that his monthly visitor was back again,
he definitely had to check it out. They sat staring at each
other. Dre’ searched for any familiarity that might give him a clue
to anyone from his past that he might have forgotten, while Peter
sat conjuring up ghosts from his own past.
Yet,
it made no sense, thought Dre’. They say he’s a preacher and if that
were true, then he was a man who believed that there was a God to
take care of vengeance. He would be anything but a threat to him. He
didn’t know why this man had so much interest in him,
but he wanted nothing from him, not one thing, not even his
time. Anything he had to say would undoubtedly go in one ear and
straight out the other.
It
was Dre’ who finally broke the uneasy silence. After all, someone
had to eventually. They couldn’t just sit there until the guard
deemed visiting time was up. He was not afraid of this old man.
However, he had to know what he was up against. He’d done so much
dirt that he had to keep a look out over his shoulder for anything
threatening that could possibly come his way.
Several incidents came to mind. He wondered if this man was the
father of the girl he had assaulted,
while stealing her purse.
Perhaps it was the husband, of the lady that he had tied to the
chair, as he robbed their house.
What if it was the man he robbed and made strip down in front of
his wife and children? He didn’t know, but he knew he needed to
know. As he sat trying to place who this guy could be, his stomach
slowly churned. He often wished that he could turn back the hands of
time, but it was too late for that now. He had already done too many
awful things, too much
water under the bridge. In this case, backing up or turning around
was impossible.
“What
can I do for you old man?”
He asked, leaning
back in the chair, arms folded across his chest. He watched Peter’s
every movement as he waited for some response. Although he didn’t
feel this old man posed much of a threat, he still wouldn’t let his
guard down. That was the very first lesson the streets had taught
him: to never let his walls of protection completely down,
exposing himself and his weaknesses. Being unaware meant death.
He had been running with the neighborhood gang since he was fourteen
years old, and had taken part in almost every crime from A to Z.
There was no telling who this old man was,
or why he seemed so determined to meet with him.
“The
question is what can I do for you?”
Peter leaned forward and rested an elbow on the table.
“You
tell me,” Dre’ said, tilting his head to one side, sounding very
cocky. “Unless you can get me out of here,
quicker than next month, then I don’t know what else you can help me
with.”
“Yep,
one more month…that’s good.” Peter had so much to say,
but he wasn’t sure how to say it,
or even where to begin. He didn’t know if he would be shooting in
the dark, but he knew he had to try. He owed that much. “I’ve been
coming here every month,
for twenty one months,
and each time you have refused to see me. Why did you agree today?”
He asked. He was glad, but curiosity wouldn’t stop nagging at him.
“I
came to find out just what it is that you’re looking for. I ain’t
got nothin’ you could want. They say you’re a preacher,
but the last thing that I want to do is talk Bible. Shoot, ain’t no
hope for me no way, preacher. The devil already claimed me.”
“I’m
not looking for anything from you. I just want to be here for you.”
Peter replied, lightly touching his open hand across his chest.
“Be
here for me, for what?
Me and you don’t have nothin’ in common.”
His eyes never left Peter’s face and he looked at him as if
he had the word “idiot”, in bold letters,
stamped across the middle of his forehead.
“We
have more in common than you realize.” Peter said softly.
“You
ain’t got nothin’ to tell me, and I ain’t got nothin’ to say.
And for your information,
I don’t need nobody!” Dre’ protested.
“Everybody needs to have someone, even if only for moral support,
or just to have somebody to be there to listen, to talk…”
“Support? I got that covered already.” Dre’ fired back,
cutting him off. “I’m my own support. It’s all I want and all I
need!” And, if you want to listen to something, then listen to your
footsteps as you go down that hallway and outta here. I don’t know
what planet you’re from Pops, but you ain’t got nothin’ in common
with me or me with you.” He snapped.
“Son,
I know you feel that I have nothing that will be beneficial to you.
You probably think you have life all figured out and I’m sure you
think you can handle everything all by yourself.
I just want you to know that you don’t have to face life
alone. I’ve been coming here since you were sent to this place,
hoping for a chance to talk with you.” He paused briefly, and
shuffled around nervously in his seat before continuing. “You’re
going to be getting out of here real soon and I’m hoping to help you
with that transition.” Peter offered.
“Old
man, there ain’t nothin’ I need from you, I just told you that!” He
repeated. “And what transition?
I’m getting out, I don’t need no help. All I need is for them
to open up the door, and everything else I can do for myself.” He
said in a huff.
“If
you just walk out that door with no plan, son, you are destined to
be back in the system again.” Peter stressed. He, of all people,
knew you had to have a plan, of some kind to deal with life,
especially when the cards are stacked against you.
“Listen man, what do you mean coming in here, telling me where I’m
gonna end up? You think
I care about what you think?!” Dre’ shot back angrily. “And by the
way, who are you, a preacher man or a psychic?
How do you know what’s down the road for me?” Each word he
spoke dripped with sarcasm. “Did you come here to bless me or to
curse me?” Fury burned
in his eyes. All of a sudden the fire went out. A small, sly smile
quickly transformed into a wide tooth grin.
“Oh, I get it now; you came to talk some sense into me, huh?
So, you gonna save me, old man?”
He asked sarcastically.
Vivid
flashes of another time, and another boy, came to Peter’s mind, a
boy who had nothing to pattern himself after. A boy who had been
thrust into the middle of chaos. Dre’, on the other hand, was
exactly the opposite. He came from the best of stock. Was he really
ignorant to the strength that he had within?
He was cut from a strong grain.
It was obvious that either he didn’t know, or circumstances
had stripped it from his memory.
“Well, somebody needs to. This is not the place for you, boy. It’s
beneath you. Life is holding some wonderful things for you son, but
you have to see it and strive for it.” He recognized where Dre’ was;
he knew the look of it as well as the smell of it. He also knew that
if Dre’ went back to the streets with the same attitude, he would be
back in the same boat, up a creek without a paddle, as the old
saying goes.
“You’re not my daddy ol’ man, so stop calling me son! Shoot, you’re
not even part of my family, so why does it matter to you where I end
up? Why are you taking it upon yourself to try to save me?”
He was on his feet now, ranting, pacing up and down, back and
forth, in the tiny room. “Of all the dudes here, why did you choose
me to pull your savior card on?”
He stopped beside his chair and leaned in so close that their
noses almost touched. He
was so close that every word that spewed from his mouth, gave Peter
a clue to what his last meal had been. ”Listen to me preacher, real
good. I ain’t trying to get saved!”
He yelled. The guard slowly removed his foot from the wall
and dropped it to the floor.
His hand lightly stroked the handle of the pepper spray, but
he did not move away from the wall. He had been smacking his gum
loudly, but now he clamped his mouth shut as he peered at them.
“I
guess you figure you and God’s gonna change me and make me into a
new man, before I leave this place, huh?” Dre’ asked with a smirk on
his face that showed his disdain at the mere thought. “Don’t waste
your time ol’ man ‘cause I don’t wanna hear it and you ain’t gotta
waste God’s time either, ‘cause we fell out long time ago. He ain’t
listening to me and I ain’t trying to hear nothin’ from him.
If that’s all you came for then you might as well leave.” Dre’
argued, his patience running out.
“He
is listening and he hears you. He doesn’t answer us in our time. If
we ask, and it doesn’t come through right away it doesn’t mean he’s
not listening. It could very well mean he’s just saying ‘not yet’,”
explained Peter.
“You
know ol’ man, I’m gonna respect you ‘cause you’re old, but there
ain’t a whole lot I imagine that you can tell me. This is my life
and I do what I want to do and what I got to do. You can’t
understand that, so why try?
I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to run, but
trust me when I tell you; you’re running it on the wrong dude. So,
now you and God can both leave ‘cause I ain’t interested!” His arms
whipped through the air. Each word he spoke was like a tiny flame
that seared his tongue. He spat them out, as quickly as possible,
trying to put out the fire.
“You
think ‘cause I’m old, I don’t know what time it is. You also think
because I’m a minister of God’s word that I can’t be of support for
you and that we have no commonality; but you’re as wrong as wrong
can be. I do know what time it is. I have been around the block a
time or two. You look at me and I guess you see and old man, an old
man who lives to hold up God. But, don’t you dare look at me and
think you know every chapter in this book. You’re not as big as you
wish you were, and you’re not as bad as you have convinced yourself
you are. It’s hard for a con to con a con. Do you feel me? He took a
long breath and held it for a moment then slowly released it.
“You
think ‘cause you’re young you know everything. Boy, if you’re not careful,
the streets will suck you up. You’re running along thinking you’re
big and bad and got life by the tail, but don’t you know you can’t
hold a tiger like life…by
its tail? She’ll whip
the day lights out of you.
And you can do all the swinging in the world and you still won’t be
able to knock her out. She’ll be your pimp and she’ll sell you out.”
“I
ain’t scared of life and I ain’t scared of the streets, ol’ man!
Life can’t do no more to me than I let it.” He laughed a gut
wrenching laugh. His head
fell back and his stomach shook, then his laugher ended as abruptly
as it began. He was not about to let this old man get under his
skin.
“Everybody is scared of something son. When you stop being scared of
everything, then you’ve already lost control.”
“Man
please, I ride the streets like a wild stallion.
I got him by the reins and riding high.” His voice was soft
and cold, but flames
shot from his eyes as he spoke. “See, I run things in my world.” He
bragged. It was obvious that this old man didn’t know who he was
messing with. He was known as a firecracker and this old joker was
sitting here holding a match. He took a deep breath to calm himself
down. If this old man was trying to make him mad, then he would show
him. He refused to give
him that pleasure.
“You
have to respect life in order for life to respect you. You can’t
demand respect; it doesn’t work that way.” Peter said, speaking from experience.
“Old
man, I get respect, or I
take it. It don’t matter to me if it’s real,
or if it’s faked. All that matters is that I get it.” His voice
dripped with coldness, like water droplets that trickled down
icicles.
“That
makes no sense son. You can’t take respect.
Faking respect is like faking love; neither of them has any meaning.
You may have been riding high, but look around boy, at where you are
now.” He said,
waving his hand around in the air. That stallion bucked you off and
it’s just a matter of time before he’ll buck again.”
Peter responded, as he leaned back in the old,
wooden chair.
“Life
didn’t do this to me, I did! I let my guard down! Life teaches you
to be sharp and to stay on your toes. It was my fault that I got
caught, but it won’t
happen no more, ‘cause
I’ve learned to never let my guard down again.”
“You’re right; you did do it to yourself. You know, and you can be
as careful as you know to be, and still it won’t be enough.”
The path you’re on is full of pitfalls and you can’t put your
guard up high enough to prevent that!”
“You don’t know nothin’ about my path, man,
and I refuse to keep sitting here listening to this. Go find
somebody else to pass your judgment on
‘cause I’m done
listening." The young man spat, pounding his chest with the ball of
his fist.
“Dre’,
calm down, please. I didn’t come here to get you all worked up.
My intentions are not to judge you. I know that this life’s
not for you, and I want to help you to find a new one. The way
you’re trying to live will send you to places that you really don’t
want to go. Don’t you
see that?” He asked, as he searched the young man’s face, hoping for
a telltale sign that something was seeping in.
“Are
you big-headed enough to believe that you hold the answers for me
and my life?” Dre’ shot back,
full of indignation.
“Son,
in life we all have situations and circumstances that are unlike
anyone else’s. Everybody has some kind of fight. Problem is, you
think that the hand you’ve been dealt is the worse there is. You
feel things are not fair and you wonder what you did to deserve the
hand that you got. You’ve spent a lot of time asking why…haven’t you? You’ve asked that question so much,
and not once have you ever found the answer.” Peter said, sadly
shaking his head back and forth. His voice, slow and steady, was
laced with weariness. “You probably feel like God has turned his
back on you and left you out to dry,
huh?” His voice seemed distant as his mind wandered in the shadows
of the past.
“God!” Dre’ yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “God ain’t
trying to hear me and you’re right, I have asked why; but I got
tired of asking why…and
why me! So, you know what I did, ol’ man?
I stopped, and gave into
life, and I figured out how to live it for me!” Anger poured out of
him so strongly that it caused the hair on the back of Peter’s neck
to stand on end. The words flew out of Dre’s mouth as if he had
bitten into something rancid.
“I
don’t care about what you’re talking about, why should I?” Dre’
caught himself, and
stopped, taking a deep
breath. He was letting this old man get next to him and he didn’t
want to do that. So, he
kept breathing deeply, in and out, fighting to stay cool.
“Dre’,
life is about challenges, and learning how to deal with them.
We’ve all been through things.
What may seem monumental to you may be like a walk in the park to
someone else. Life is tough, but it is not as tough as we are. We
are never asked to bear something that is bigger than the strength
that is inside of us.” He said. Reaching Dre’ was not going to be a
simple task, but then,
he’d known that from the very beginning. Almost nothing about life
was simple.
Want to read more? Now is the time to reserve your copy of Resurrecting Ghosts and save 25% off the retail price.
Click Here to be added to the Pre Order List or Email us at Sales@CreativeHousePress.com and put the title Resurrecting Ghosts in the subject line. You will NOT be charged for any book orders at this time. We will send you a notice when the book is ready, and for reserving your book, you will receive a special discounted price.
Suggested Retail Price: $12.95
Author's Email: CJBolden@CreativeHousePress.com
Resurrecting Ghosts
by
CJ Bolden
Redemption comes in many ways and many forms. Some times it is handed out by God, other times, it comes to you in small unknown packages. This is a story of one man who was given a second chance in life and now he has a chance to help someone else redeem their life.
But why this one young man? What makes him so important to an elder like Petey. This is where the story begins and ends. A potent story of redemption that speaks to many of today's youth.
Click here to read what our Reviewers are saying.
Order Now - Special Limited Offer Books are scheduled for shipping after May 1, 2010.
Suggested Retail Price: $12.95 Soft Cover - Special Price $10.95 over 20% savings.
Limited Edition Hard Cover Only 40 Left! - Suggested Retail Price: $24.95. Special Price 21.95.
Resurrecting Ghosts T-shirt Short Sleeve $14.95 - $19.95
Resurrecting Ghosts T-shirt Long Sleeve $19.95 - $26.95
Author's Email: CJBolden@CreativeHousePress.com