The Window Shade and the Author -

Jason could hear the screaming and begging long before he rounded the pond's marshy point. He was running at top speed but still had to avoid thorny bushes and small trees that jumped up in front of him. There ! Just a hundred yards ahead he saw a small cottage and barn sitting in the woods, almost obscured from view by the thick
growth. Had the light not been on he would've never seen the place. The screaming helped him too, in another way, as he realized while sprinting the last few feet that someone had to be alive to scream. That was a good sign.
Flinging the back door open, he was amazed at what he saw ! Anna, tied to a chair, was crying and screaming like a woman possessed ! On the table in front of her was a book, a manuscript. With a knife sticking through it, into the table ! And the knife was still vibrating back and forth !

Jason bent to free Anna's arms and hands from the gray duct tape. She continued to scream "Evan!" at the top of her lungs.
And then she was free ! And he was holding her! Holding her tightly! As tightly as he dared !

Three weeks later Anna was still in the hospital. Mental hospital. And although her health had improved she was still unable to convince her doctors to release her. For some reason they refused to believe the truth, as best as
Anna could convey it. There was no one else around when Jason finally found her. No Evan Colby, no Francis. Only Anna and the knife and the book ! And it was difficult for Anna to answer some of the questions being asked,
because she wasn't very sure about things herself. They thought she might be delusional. They thought she might be role-playing. They thought she might have stepped over the insanity line just once too often. But they didn't think she should be released until they ran some more tests, which entailed another week at least.

So she waited, rather impatiently, for them to get on with it. Her only highlight, another visit by Jason, was at six
later on in the day, and she was looking forward to seeing him. He had become her rock.

Anna sat quietly in her room with the dividing curtains pulled so she wouldn’t have to look at the heavily drugged, slobbering woman who shared her room, hoping & praying that six o’clock would come sooner rather than later. Maybe he would have some good news today; at least he believed her… Jason knew the truth; he just had to gather enough evidence to get her out of here.

It puzzled Anna to think that anyone thought she was perpetrating the crime events surrounding her. Why? what purpose would she have to do that? What would she stand to gain by doing any of that? Never before had her mental sanity been questioned. It crushed her spirit so much that Anna had already decided that when she got out of here, she would sell the house and move someplace far, far away. This town held to many bad memories.

Being in the Mental hospital was kind of a catch twenty-two for Anna, for the most part it felt secure – secure enough in the sense that no one would try to kill her here, however she felt like she might help prove her innocents if she were out of here, where she could concentrate. The man down the hall that kept deliberately yelling for “I need HELP” was driving her mad! He was so repetitious and loud that no one could focus on his or her own thoughts. She was sure he was starting to penetrate her mind!

Anna screamed… “Can’t someone medicate that man and shut him up ? ! ?”

Had Jason become emotionally involved with Anna? Sheriff Bill questioned.

Bill believed that Jason’s detective work on the “Anna Wohlberg” file was compelling enough to keep him on-board with the case, save for there were too many red flags more delicate in nature; It appeared to Bill that Jason had most certainly personally attached himself with Anna. That right there was enough to impair his judgment. Bill decided to temporarily flush Jason from the Anna Wohlberg case, now weather Jason’s action was a case of chivalry? Or adoration? …Either way, there was something personal to it which was undeniable.

As the Sheriff continued with the remaining evidence, 90 % of the underlying principle… implicated Anna Wohlberg. It was the other 10 % that tormented Bill. It wedged a thorn right under his skin. Once again, it all came looming time and again to the ‘individual’ distressing incidents.

#1. The Black car, there was no way Anna could have driven 2 cars at once to bang up her own, albeit the driver of the black car never was found…

#2. The way Anna Wohlberg had been taped up to that chair inside the cottage- would be physically impossible for a human being to inflict on ones own self.

Yet, there had to be something they were missing! But what was it?

With shovel in hand and a few other beneficial tools Jason made his way back to the camp site that he had run across on Anna’s wooded property. Although the campsite and everything in it had been cleared and tagged as evidence, Jason knew some useful data was still missing…there had to be! Perhaps there was something here that would help convict the black car man.

Jason knew he would have to keep it on the down low until he found the missing pieces as Bill had derailed him from the case. He couldn’t just sit back and leave Anna’s fate into someone else hands. He had been on the case since the start; no one knew more about what was going on with the attacks on Anna than he himself. He intended to see this all the way through to the finish.

As he neared the campsite he heard music from a radio, thus Jason promptly stopped. Now hiding behind some of the trees, he took out his binoculars to scan the area. What he saw next threw him for a loop. There… where the old camp had been was a new camp!
“What … In The Hell?” Jason whispered, as he retracted the binoculars for a full view.

A blue tarp & some ropes were now fashioned into a new makeshift tent, no cot this time but clearly there were blankets being used under the tarp and the fire pit was once again smoldering. Now Jason saw movement, over there… there was a man sitting on a primitive type of a wooden bench with what looked like a stuffed dummy sitting beside him. Noticeably, he had his arm around the dummy as if it were his companion. The man was inaudibly talking to the dummy, utterly oblivious that Jason was near.

Jason retreated back far enough to phone the sheriff. Bill needed to see this.

Origins are sometimes hard to determine. Be it life . . . or . . fantasy. Where do the facts stop and where does the myth begin? Who's to say what's real or unreal ? Stories are like that. Stories, based on fact. Stories, that then become something other than facts, because we know of no other way to explain the supernatural direction taken.
How do books become . . magical ? They have to start . . somewhere. Maybe it has to do with the amount of faith or belief one puts into it. (Like how much you can really picture in your mind from a brief description). See it yet ? Oh yes, belief.


The manuscript sat alone on the table. In the excitement, it had all but been forgotten. Rays of vanishing sunlight washed over the cover, then faded away to nothingness. Silence. Deep . . silence. If someone with a keen sense of vibration had been present, chances are they would've seen slight movements appearing to come from the manuscript. They would have seen the pages open, and they would have heard the rustle of the paper as it turned to Chapter 4 . . . and stopped. But would they have seen the hand that now rose up and out of the book ? Would they have seen a figure climb out like one escaping from a womb ? Probably not. It wasn't real.

Jen,
I hope I didn't de-rail your train of thought with my last post. If I did I'm sorry.
For some reason I had some difficulty with "The Window Shade" as to how it
would relate to "The Author".
Wasn't quite sure where you wanted to take it.

I can continue if you want to.
Siege

reply to post by SIEGE


No worries SIEGE We'll work together again. Truth be told I was glad you ended it I was working my way there, yet too busy to get there quick.