I know my luck is dismal.It had not been this way when I was smaller, no, back then I thought I was a pretty lucky kid all things considered. I healed fast, I had my mom who loved me with everything she had, I had a home and food, I went to school and had friends, I had everything a little kid could ask for. I would’ve preferred to have a father as well, someone to fill that one void that always seemed to be unfilled in my life no matter what, but that was wishing for too much. In the general sense, however, I considered myself a pretty lucky kid.And then I began to grow up and found myself in many, many abysmal situations that guaranteed trouble and almost always humiliation for me.So, in the hindsight, I should’ve known that something would go wrong the minute I decided at that cabin that ‘hey, I should stroll down to town and see what’s going on with the rest of the humanity!’But had I done that and tried to come up with various scenarios that could ruin my day, I don’t think I
Never in my life had I been in jail.I will not lie, there was a pretty stupid phase in my life when I wanted to be a bad boy. I might have been about twelve at the time, and thought being a thug while riding motorbikes and smoking cigarettes was just so cool. It might have been because of my daddy issues meeting up with my looming puberty, it might have been because I was simply bored of how my life was going and wanted something to shake it up, and like most twelve-year-old boys I was utterly stupid and thought everything dangerous was cool.I was also under the impression that bad boys got all the girls. My mom got wound of this fantasy of mine because I was gullible enough to write it in my journal and keep it lying open on the kitchen table. While my mother swore that she deliberately did not read it and was just intrigued by my trying to draw skulls all over the page. After that, she made me watch documentaries over and over again about the downsides of crime, which was mostly
“Hello, who is this?”“Hey, Coraline,” I sigh, “this is Jace.”“Oh, my god!” Coraline screeches in my ear, so loud that I have to pull the telephone handle away from my ear a bit to keep my eardrums from rupturing, “Oh, my god, Jace, where the hell have you been?! We’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours! I tried to call you myself, but you didn’t answer so I got Oliver to try as well! Do you have any idea how worried we were? What’s wrong with you, why aren’t you taking your goddamn calls?”I sigh again. This is going to take a lot of explaining, “Okay, I see that you’re sufficiently freaked out, and I don’t blame you. Just…don’t get worked up more, alright? I’m at the police station.”Maybe I’m the idiot. Who the hell tells someone not to freak out and then tells them you’re in a police station?“What? Jace, what happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone jump you in town? Did you get mugged?”“No, Coraline, I didn’t get mugged or jumped. It’s just…it’s really stup
Both Coraline and Oliver are utterly mad throughout the trip home.I sit in the backseat, listening to them rag on the police station like two angry parents ragging on their kid’s school for suspending him unfairly. It would be amusing if I weren’t feeling so guilty about the whole thing.“Guys, guys,” I tell them when they stop the ranting to take a breath, “What happened, happened, alright. At least I got out without being sent to county jail or making it a court case. Also, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this.”“Nonsense, Jace, none of it was your fault. They were the ones who saw you walking and minding your own business and decided that you were some low-lives criminal.”“An eco-terrorist actually,” I correct them, “come to think of it, Oliver, have you had any problems with vandalism? The cops mentioned that a few other businesses were being affected as well, and some of them were hotel projects. Are there other hotel construction going on?”“There are a few. Apparently,
Although I was ready to forgive and forget the whole thing, Oliver was not.“Oliver, what do you mean you’re dropping them as our primary timber suppliers?” I ask him after he declares his decision at the office a day after the strange meeting in the morning, “I thought we all agreed it was a misunderstanding and are putting it behind us for good.”The past day had gone pleasantly enough, after the strange incident. Coraline had been stunned to learn what had happened while she hid in the bathroom, and Oliver was miffed to learn about the lukewarm nature of their apologies.“So, they just came around to pat themselves on their backs for being good boys,” he’d grouched, “typical. How very typical of them.”“Well, at least they did that. I know plenty of people who would rather go and air out their dirty laundry in national media rather than apologize,” I told him, remembering how Stone and his father acted after the expelling incident.“Dirty laundry? That sounds like something that ha
“What on earth…?” I utter as I take in the sight in front of me.I stand in front of the hunting lodge construction zone, right in front of the structure that is to be the main building of the hotel. The morning air is crisp, and the sun is already shining, brilliant rays filtering through the leaves of the canopies in the sorest surrounding us and hitting the ground, warming up the air particles in between. About twenty or so workers and senior staff stand around me, while Oliver and Coraline flank me. And all of us are staring.“Fallhill does not belong to you. Leave!” Coraline reads what is written on a wall of the structure aloud. These words are written in black oil and red paint, alternating between them, in a bold, large font that takes over the wall. Surrounding it, there are skulls, knives, guns, trees, and animals drawn, all in surprising detail as if the perpetrators of the deed had plenty of time in their pockets. Whenever winds blow through the forest, the strings of toil
The police came and went. While they were there, they asked some questions, took photographs of the crime scene, did some more detecting around, and then told us to stay put and notify them immediately if there were any other criminal activities happening on the premises. Of course, they did not forget to question me thoroughly, because for some reason they seemed to be under the impression that I had something to do with the graffiti.“I’m the manager of this construction zone,” I tell them, “I’m not here on vacation or anything. It means that I oversee the construction of this place on behalf of the company that owns the place. Why on god’s green earth would I want to trash the place where I work?”Over their shoulders, I see Oliver glaring at anyone and everyone wearing a police uniform and Coraline glancing at us, worry and annoyance warring on her expression.“Who knows, maybe you have something against the boss.” One of the detectives suggests offhandedly as if all of this is a
This is the first time I take a drive to town, and I am quite surprised to find the town as busy as it is. And then I check the date. It’s a Sunday. Of course, it’s a Sunday. I should’ve known from the distinct lack of workers in the construction zone.Because it’s Sunday, everyone is out and about, enjoying their free day of the week. There is a farmer’s market and a flea market, side by side and buzzing with people. At a distance, I could also see an honest to God fair, with merry-go-rounds and Ferris wheels, and all sorts of entertainment opportunities. The small town was excited and high on energy, and I wished we could come over here and enjoy it.Curse whoever chose today of all days to draw shit on walls.After driving down the roads of Falenridge one too many times, I wait about fifteen minutes lurking around street corners until I finally find a spot to park.With a sigh, I get out of the truck and lock the thing up. According to google maps, the nearest hardware store where