Chapter Two - George

A Chapter by Zac

Chapter Two

It was raining that day; seems as if it always is.

The fierce winds gave triumphant heed to a beckoning tempest; the skies stained a tired and troubled grey as thunderous crashes resounded in the distance.

Time echoed in silence; life stood still.

There he walked, alone and fixated. His name, Philip Clarent; his place in life, unknown.

He stared down the cold cement bridge, fighting his way against the torrential onslaught as nearby maple trees swayed in a sopping, green blur.

A train barreled down the parallel track, roof crackling an azure haze as it caressed and cascaded along the high-wire.

Late afternoon passed from dreary view as early evening stuttered to claim its place; a crane's rain-smudged shadow was cast off in the nearby distance.

Electric fire reigned from across the sky, Phil stopped to pervade a glimpse unto nature laid bare.

For as long as he could remember, which unlike most, had been quite literally his entire life, Phil had been absolutely fascinated with lightning.

Something about the tempered chaos of it all; raw and unabided fury plucked directly from the heavens.

Another hammer-blow quaked the sky in a crimson blaze of rarely fashioned wrath.

"Beautiful,"

Phil quietly whispered to himself as he resumed his course; downpour subtly gaining strength.

He made an effort to try and double his speed, but his legs only cramped up instead.

"Ah shiiiit!"

He yelped, stumbling off to the cover of the tree nearest by.

"Son of ahhh-"

He seethed, cut off by yet another thunderous whiplash crashing down through the heavens, soon after a thick metallic cringe sounded nearby; a heavy groan followed suit.

Phil jerked his head around to catch the source of the steel cries, his scrawny, rain-drenched frame swiveled in turn.

He watched, mouth ajar, as the goliath of a crane twisted and bellowed to the wind's frantic might.

"EEEEEEeeeeeere," the crane faltered, seemingly ready to crash at any moment's notice.

But Phil only stood there, awe-founded.

"ERRRRRROOOOOOOOUUUUIIEEE," it sounded off again as the crane began to twist and tumble, cracking the concrete beneath it.

"What in the -" he thought to himself before finally taking the hint and bolting out of there as soon as physically possible; but not soon enough.

The crane came toppling down before he could even think to savor his last few breaths.

For what felt like hours, he waited; for a bellow, for a crash - for his life to flash before his eyes, but nothing happened.

Finally, mustering the courage to open his eyes, Phil turned and could not believe what he saw...

The crane had somehow stopped itself mid-air, seemingly held aloft by nothing at all.

"Well that sure was close," came an intrusive Texan voice from nearby.

Phil yanked his head around to try and catch the source, but came up empty handed.

"Right up here buddy-boy," the voice chimed in once again.

He looked up, still nothing.

"Did - did you do... this?" Phil called out to the disembodied voice.

"Heck no," the voice picked up once again with a chuckle.

"This is all you buddy; but let me help you out with that."

"Who- where are you?!" Phil yelled.

"Right over here amigo," the Texan accent called out as a surge of blue light raced over to the crippled crane,

hovered for a moment and proceeded to circle the object in a blinding light, and repositioned the metallic goliath back into place as if nothing had ever happened.

"Am I having a stroke!?" Phil thought aloud as he scratched at his left eyebrow; still in absolute shock.

"Stroke a' genius maybe," the voice finally held in one place.

"Gotta say, I'm impressed."

"But I- I didn't do anything," he stuttered anxiously; the rain finally came to a subtle drizzle.

"Maybe not from where you're standing kiddo," the disembodied Texan laughed.

"But I dunno, you DO look pretty G-D high to me, buddy."

"What do you mean? I'm not high!" Phil yelled back with a trembling sneer in his voice, "I've never touched a drug before in my life!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The voice roared in laughter. "You crack me up man; haven't laughed good like that in a while."

"I'm serious!" He seethed.

"Well that's up for debate, kid; but I mean, you look pretty damn high UP right now. Just do us both a favor and don't look down."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Phil asked, immediately disregarding the voice's advice and shifted his gaze downwards to find that

his feet were, in fact, not even touching the ground; he fell a moment later.

"I told you not to look down buddy," the voice called out as it caught Phil and placed him neatly back on the bridge's firm concrete and zoomed back into eye-shot.

"But I guess everybody's gotta learn to take a hint sooner or later."

"Wha- what are you?" Phil asked, still in a daze.

"The real question," the voice bounced back, "is what YOU are, amigo."

"WILL PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT," Phil yelled. "I'M NOT YOUR FRIEND, AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN SHOWED ME WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE! FOR ALL I KNOW, THIS IS ALL A DREAM

OR A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION, OR MAYBE EVEN ME JUST LOSING MY FREAKING MIND!"

"Sheesh, ungrateful much?" The voice answered. "I just saved your life man... And why is losing your mind is at the bottom of the list?"

"I thought you said I did all that," Phil trembled in subtle anger.

"That whole deal with the crane?" It quipped. "Yep, that was all you man; but I DID just save you from free-falling a solid 40 feet to your death, brohame."

"But it's your fault that I even fell in the first place!" He yelled in outwards confusion.

"If that's how you wanna play it guy;" the Texan voice shot back with an offended tick,

"but I did tell you not to look down, didn' I? That's gotta count for somethin'..."

"Fine...fine..." Phil tried to gather his bearings as he shook his head and ritualistically checked that his feet were still planted firmly on the ground.

"I'm sorry... man?"

"Well I AM a dude," the light answered, "just not in the conventional people-sense a' the word."

"So who-what are you?"

"Spirit guide, big angel, totem... interdimensional traveler;

I dunno... different hats buddy... I guess you can call me George if you want the whole people experience n' what not."

"George... your name is ... George...?" Phil began to laugh hysterically.

"What, you got some kinduva problem with that homey? You rippin' on my name now?!" George shot back.

"No...no... but I don't know..." Phil chucked.

"For a disembodied 'light' I guess that I was just expecting something a little more... I don't know, harder to pronounce."

"Well what kinduva f****n' name is 'Phil', anyways huh?" George retaliated in a high-pitched, mocking tone as he

formed a laser-light-show of hands signing the quotation symbol every time he said 'Phil'.

"Oh look at me, my name is 'Phil' and I'm a real boy,

everybody come kiss my a*s so that I can tell you all that my name is 'Phil' and I mean business and don't do drugs."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry man, I didn't think that you'd get all offended by it."

"Hey man, just 'cause I'm a 'disembodied light,' as you so humanely put it, don't mean that I'm not people too, or that I don't get offended when people make

fun a' my name; disembodied or otherwise... walkin' PSA dipshiyt."

Phil did feel like kind of an a*****e at this point.

"You think I don' miss f****n' chicks; you think I don' miss havin' a mother frickin' dick!" he seethed.

"S**t man, I used to be a G-D player back in the day; now all I got is this s**t? Worthless turds laughin' at my name after I save their friggen' lives... C'mon man!

Laughin' at muh name n' s**t..."

"You were a person once?"

"Sure as s**t yeah I was; used to drink that sweet glass a' poontang like a mother f****r dyin' a thirst..." George responded enthusiastically.

"So what happened...?" He asked, "I mean... to you?"

"Questionable life decisions a' guess... but anyways we're gettin' off topic here..." George redirected the conversation.

"So what, this is your... probation or something?"

"...Something like that buddy...but anyways, we're here for you bromigo."

"What do you mean?"

"What a' mean is don'tcha wanna know how you were flyin' before, or how that crane didn' flatten you out into roadkill?" He called back impatiently.

"Seem like pretty reasonable questions if y'ask me..."

"I'm still having a hard time believing any of this is even real..." Phil pondered.

"Well it is holmes," He quipped. "See that, I made a pun... and who says all Texans are dumb."

"God, you have got to be kidding me..."

"He ain't." George respnded quite sternly.

"So now you're telling me that God is real too?"

"If you believe n' him."

"God's a man?"

"Guess he is now sport, s'pose the Feminists should be thanking you..." He boasted sarcastically.

"This doesn't make any f*****g sense... I think... I think I should go... this is all just getting too weird for me." Phil turned for home.

"Where you goin' bra?" The beam of light raced over effortlessly to intercept him. "We still got business to cover."

"I- I don't want to know..." He stuttered and sprinted for the opposite direction. "T-t-his is all way too much for me to handle!"

"You're tellin' me man," George shot back. "You think I wanna be here tryin' to herd you into listening to me... I got... other stuff ta do... maybe not better stuff,

but definitely other stuff to do with muh time."

"L-leave me alone!" Phil sputtered for the first opening he could find to get away. "I'm nobody! Just leave me alone!"

"Sheesh kid, you got some issues... most people would get excited when they find out that they got superpowers." George manifested a giant hard-light construct

of a hand, picked Phil up, and held him in place until he stopped babbling incoherent nonsense to himself.

"Sup-" Phil finally clung to coherence. "Superpowers?"

"Sure as s**t yeah bra," George chuckled enthusiastically. "You think that I'd be here if a crane just didn't fall? I'm here to 'guide' you man."

"...Super...powers..." He stared at his hands and shook his head in frantic disbelief. "No...no... none if this is happening... this has to be a dream."

"C'mon guy," George began to lose his nerve. "You're killin' me here."

"I'M KILLING YOU?!" Phil roared, "I'M SORRY IF I'M THE ONE WHO ACTUALLY JUST ALMOST DIED!"

"Easy there kiddo, let's all just take a step back and calm down now." George urged.

"DO YOU EVEN HAVE FEET? CAN YOU EVEN TAKE A STEP BACK?" He ranted. "HERE'S SOME FLOATING F*****G FAIRY, NAMED 'GEORGE' OF ALL F*****G THINGS, TELLING ME ABOUT

SUPERPOWERS AND GUIDES?! THERE'S NO WAY THAT NONE OF THIS IS A DREAM! THE WORLD DOESN'T WORK LIKE THIS!"

"That's not cool man..." George attempted to inject his input, but Phil kept up his rant.

"You 'bout finished yer skwakin'' there Celine," George called back, biding his patience.

"Or are you on a five-year n' hundred million dollar contract for rippin' out my ear-drums too? 'Cause I'm startin' to lose my nerve a bit here..."

"I..." Phil was lost for words. "I just... this has to be a dream..."

"Well lets test that theory then," George sighed with compromise. "Shall we, Nancey Drew?"

"And how would we do that?" He asked.

"Well..." George offered, "I do have one idea..."

"Why do I get the feeling tha-" George yanked Phil off the firm concrete and launched him 1000 feet in the air before he could even finish the thought.

"That's for callin' me a f****n' fairy," he chuckled. "Yuh little doucher."

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