Tyler Has Words is the blog of Tyler Patrick Wood, a writer/musician from Texas. You'll get free book excerpts twice a week. On the other days, you'll get words. If you would like an original take on everything by an expert on nothing, this might be a cool place to hang out.

About Henry Fellows (continued)

About Henry Fellows (continued)

Post 64:

Henry's tale continued.

On Killing and Innocence: The Chronicles of Henry Fellows

Episode Two

Chapter 1 (Continued)

            The man on the radio says that I’m “armed and dangerous.” To “be on the lookout.” He says it like he’s announcing the winner of concert tickets, like he’s introducing the next crappy pop song. Annoying. Anyway, apparently I have two numbers now. One if you want to talk to me, which nobody knows, another if you want to talk about seeing me. I turn the dial off. I’ve heard this all before. For a while now. It’s all so unfulfilling. I used to be a fairly normal guy—now I have two numbers and they talk about my misdeeds on the radio.

            Here I sit. I feel like it’s time for confession, but I don’t think I’m going into the station, yet again. God knows the desire is there. I’m weak, enervating under the high Texas sun. The pavement is baking, radiating off heat. Everything real looks like a mirage. My hands are starting to quiver, but that’s nothing new.

          “Hi there,” I say, waving to more running officers. It would be a shame to spoil all their fun. Maybe with all the hullaballoo, the guy from Mexico will get away and back to his loving family. It’s a small comfort, completely fabricated. The things you do for comfort when you’re alone too long.

            I want nothing more than to walk into that drab cop shop and drink their stale coffee, watching a public defender squirm under the weight of counseling me. The guy would probably be terrified. I want nothing more than my one phone call. Likely I’d use it to call my other number, or maybe call the radio station to tell the guy that the search was over.

            I’m a criminal. Think I already let that out of the bag. Fifteen months ago I escaped from the highest level maximum security prison in America, and ever since it’s been nothing but work. Pretty much a total bummer.

           My name is Henry Fellows. It used to be a moderately well-known name. Certain circles anyway. Business circles. Former heir to the Fellows Security Corporation. Now it’s the name of the FBI’s number one Most Wanted.

            There goes the mystery.

About Nuts

About Nuts

About Work

About Work