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

About Henry Fellows

Post 119:

On Killing and Innocence: The Chronicles of Henry Fellows

Episode 28:

Chapter Nine Concludes. Oh…snap!



            Walking out of the room I grab my beer and stride as nonchalantly as I can, like I could walk in and out of this cage a million times and it would never get old. Like a machine just off the assembly line and my only function is to walk in, get answers, and leave. It’s all theater. My insides are churning over from snapshot memories and phantom pain.

            As the pummeling recommences, I take a few steps from the cage. Marie’s screaming questions, Billy’s using the girl’s body for a punching bag. Suddenly it all goes wrong again. I’m hearing the sounds, but it’s like before. Like I’ve stepped through one of those worm holes and entered another plane—this one has me being questioned in a cage.

            I can still hear Billy, still smell the fresh blood of the interrogation, but I can’t tell if it’s my blood or the two toy soldiers’.

            My beer drops. I can barely tell, but the sound of broken glass is unmistakable. I’m seeing even more now, though I don’t know why. My time in the box, the time spent being throttled and drugged and hung on a meat rack.

            This is not some metaphysical journey into a parallel universe. No Einstein Bridge. It ain’t that interesting. Just recovering memories, memories taken away once by plain old trauma or plain old guilt. Plain old drugs.

            “Stop,” I say, turning back toward the cage. Billy and Marie can see the epiphany face I’m wearing, probably about the same as the one Floyd was wearing earlier. “Pretty sure I know who’s after me.”

            “Really?” Billy says. There’s a bit of disappointment in his voice, like I just filched his last token at the batting cages. What a tool.

            “You know who killed your folks, then?” Marie asks. Her accent gets more pronounced and delicate when she’s curious. It’s an ironic sound, considering she’s beating a dude half to death.

            For the first time in a while all is quiet. Everyone’s looking at me, pining for the punch line. Even the two kids seem interested.

            “Yeah. It was me.”





About Something and Nothing

About Something and Nothing

About Viewpoints

About Viewpoints