The Creepers (Book 2): From the Past Read Online Free PDF Page B

doom. Am I discounting
that events took place? No, not at all. But we can’t be bound by something we
are not living through. We held on too tightly.
     
    “All that holding nourished our hate for
what was done. To us, by us, against us. It didn’t matter. It was one big
boiling pot and we kept filling it as the water evaporated. Even in schools,
all we taught our students was the mistakes of the past. Instead of developing
young minds, without clouding them with the sins that had befallen their
ancestors. We were all guilty of it. Even when the dead started to walk. It was
blamed on many things. Fictional writing from thousands of years ago. Cultural
differences, sexual preferences, and it all pointed to the past. You have to
promise me, Howard, promise me you won’t live like that. Take my words and
learn, and then I beg you forget if you can. Don’t hold on to this. This is but
a moment. Take the knowledge and begin something new. Don’t linger here.”
     
    His father’s words echoed in his mind.
The end of the photo folder had him and his dad before a deep blue Los Angeles
sky, a never-ending day. But he couldn’t remember it. There was nothing
significant attached to that moment to crowbar the memory free. He wished there
had been. He wished it so hard that it hurt. His hands shook, rattling the
keyboard. He began to sob.
     
    The child of an accident. The accident
that changed everything. So many lives impacted. The suicides. The sacrificial
deaths. The burden. Howard fought to keep them at bay. He gulped for breath.
What a price they all paid. For what? Howard slammed his fists into the table,
cracking it.
     
    Now he was the only one left in the
city. Like the man with the glasses from the Twilight Zone episode he watched
with his father until the disk wore out. That little old man all alone and so
happy about it, so happy, but then he broke his glasses.
     
    The wind whistled through the buildings,
rattled the blinds, and on its tail the coyotes yipped and yelped and howled.
They owned the night now.
     
    Howard thought of the warmth of his
father, of their bond, and he wept, releasing all of his emotions. The fear,
the anger, the sorrow, all of them poured out in tears and growls. He shook
uncontrollably. He imagined his father’s corpse stumbling from the room,
blindly groping his way along the hall. He imagined seeing his father’s last
thoughts. He fell from the chair, burying his face in his hands.
     
    He had to leave. His father wanted him
to leave. But he couldn’t, not like this, not like this , he told
himself, until it became an active mantra. He rolled over. Through blurred
vision, the laptop played a lightshow on the ceiling. Explosions of blue and
red shimmered along the yellowed and crumbling tiles, creating bizarre color
patterns. All around him were reminders of the past. The walls with their
portraits of smiling faces, platinum and gold records, things that used to mean
so much, but meant nothing now. All the glitz was gone, all the stars were
dead, and all the dreams of lavish lives were forgotten beneath the dust and
decay.
     
    The world was wide open. He only needed
to let go. Why did he find that so hard? He thought of his father’s words, of
not holding on to the past, but he couldn’t obey them. He knew their hypocrisy.
He knew his father held on to the thought of his mother for far too long, and
it had worn the man down, ground him under weighted thumb, until the very life
left him. He couldn’t bear to live like that. He couldn’t carry the man on his
back the remainder of his days.
     
    He had to get out of the city. Howard
rubbed the tears from his face and got up. The flood was over. He breathed like
Ruth taught him. In and out and in and out, calming the body, then the mind.
Something buzzed on the table. The sound made him jump back. In the emotional
collapse, he’d forgotten to check the small device and now it was reminding
him. The small screen flashed. He went to