Prologue

This is the prologue for my book, Whitewallsville. It is currently published and available for purchase on Amazon.com.

When it came to staring contests, Roger Holland couldn’t be beat. His intense ability to concentrate on one focal point and his dedication to the craft made him undefeated for 42 straight years. It was his one true accomplishment and the one talent for which he would be remembered infamously, long after his death on that cold and dreary autumn day.

Roger stared at the bottle of extra strength Tylenol sitting atop his makeshift dining room table. The cap was tightly screwed back on, despite the fact that the bottle was empty. The bottle was empty and his stomach was full. A moderate feeling of nausea crept up on him as his vision began to blur. The shadow started on the edges of his eyes and slowly progressed towards the center. In Roger’s case, it was entirely fitting and poignant that his eyes were the first vital tissue to fail and he thought it would be a great compliment if those who found him presumed this was a planned effect. He positioned his thumb and index finger and plucked, clumsily, at the now hazy empty bottle until it went over the side of the table and onto the cold, hard floor. The sound of the plastic colliding with the cheap tile echoed in his ears. It was as if he were already miles away. His body followed the path of the bottle shortly after.

One last effort, powered by an unconscious will, forced Roger’s eyes to open one final time before his soon-to-be demise. What he saw was his orange striped tabby cat, Tiger, who was lying on the floor next to him. She stood up and meowed, sauntering towards him in the way that all cats do. She scraped her course hair across his face and this was just enough to transport Roger into an unknown existence. He was floating, he was happy, and he was free. He was alone in his own space and time and was surrounded by a peace that he had never experienced. That is, until the voices intruded and shoved themselves into his reality. The voices sent him into a frightening and constant freefall with only a long, shadowy drop below. His silent scream was heard by him, alone, in the dark, cold cavern in his head. Sharp pains trickled down his spine until his hair stood up and his thoughts became frozen in time. He fell for an eternity. He fell until the light swallowed him up and sent his heart on a frantic roller coaster ride. Pain and static shot through his muscles and his arms and legs began to tense, unwittingly. Every inch of his flesh tingled as he was thrown back into a world in which he never belonged. It was at that moment that the voices appeared again.

 

“We have a rhythm, doctor…”

 

A whimpering cry was his final plea as all went silent.