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Austin Macauley Publishers LLC - Crispin Jackson

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37 pages

English

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You've heard of what happens when the mind is allowed to wander past its reasonable limits. This is no different. Immerse yourself in a collection of things gone wrong. There is barely any sunshine in a bad dream. All you encounter is tragedy upon tragedy, heaps upon heaps of misfortune mixed with spots of relief. When you close your eyes, it really is over. While you would wish to wake up, you find that you cannot. For stretches at a time, the mind gives way to limitless wanderings, far from where things make sense. In this place, you encounter the following: creatures called minotaurs who are bent on enslaving humans, the prototype for a car that is way too unsafe, and a unique take on the Fountain of Youth. Journey with Crispin Jackson as he takes you down paths where no author has ventured before. Imagination is good to run wild.

Informations

Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
Date de parution	06 janvier 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781638294788
Langue	English

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Extrait

Bad Dreams
Short Stories of Imagination Unleashed
Crispin Jackson
Austin Macauley Publishers
2023-01-06
Bad Dreams About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgments Focal Point The Cruise Ship from Hell Prototype Glasswork Problem The Beast from Within The Utopian Dilemma The Stuntman Up Close and Personal A Monopoly on My Life The Crazy Canine Regenerate
About the Author
Crispin Jackson is a native New Yorker. He appreciates classic literature and has absorbed a large amount of literature since childhood. He was inspired to write while in college, and since then, he has earned a bachelor’s degree from City College. He enjoys singing and long walks. He boasts a large selection of his own writing.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my mother. Her wisdom on obtaining an education has brought about extraordinary results. This book is one of them.
Copyright Information ©
Crispin Jackson 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ordering Information
Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Jackson, Crispin
Bad Dreams
ISBN 9781638294771 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781638294788 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022922176
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published 2023
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street 33rd Floor, Suite 3302
New York, NY 10005
USA
mail-usa@austinmacauley.com
+1 (646) 5125767
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the staff at Austin Macauley Publishers for sharing this journey with me. These men and women have offered their expertise during difficult times.
My sincerest gratitude goes to the people who have encouraged my fiction writing. Their words have provided the confidence I needed to proceed with this book. Also, I have gained a sense of purpose from the places that offered me education. My vocabulary was the result of much hard work. My teachers and professors have built in me a resilience toward mental challenges.
I cannot thank my mother enough for providing me with the tools to get ahead. Her constant urging to perform well in school was priceless. This book is a memorial to all of the individuals I haven’t mentioned. Their assistance was greatly appreciated.
Focal Point
The focal point was only the beginning for Manson, but it seemed like the very end. The truth was that every second spent there was seconds that ticked on a time bomb. Things were dangerous. Those in authority violated every moral code in virtually every holy book that was even allowed to reach the good people of Razon. It all started when those with rank in the focal point bartered with the recruits in exchange for favors, sexual favors. It wasn’t long before rape ensued, and every fragment of the recruits’ very being was crying out for an end to ineffable pain. Things started to change for the recruits over a period of a decade when they bartered the right way. They knew they were needed, so they capitalized on this truth. Like the members of any free society, the recruits had an ingrained reflex to become something worth something to someone. Deemed to be extraordinary in their capabilities, they were clamoring to no longer be outcasts, but to be declared as free men and women. It was this environment that Manson found himself in.
“So, what’s your ability?”
The fellow recruit before Manson looked friendly enough to elicit a response.
“I don’t know,” Manson answered truthfully.
The recruit named Jason was shocked. This first exchange resulted in the beginnings of friendship. They discussed many things outside of their training, among them a working plan to escape. Manson was the brains among them, and Jason was dumbfounded. He was scared also. The plan that flowed from within him was viable, but not easy at all to execute. Both of them divulged this plan to some of the others, and when it seemed like escape was forthcoming, that’s when Manson received a letter. The letter, which in itself was a plea, was written by the hand of a woman named Paras. It wasn’t because she was a complete stranger to Manson that was cause for alarm. It was the fact that she said she was from a planet called Earth.
Manson held the letter in one hand and struggled to stand up. He understood what the letter was saying but felt like he needed to take a walk. When he checked with security personnel at the front desk, Manson was told that he had better be back before curfew. He stuffed the letter in his jacket pocket, and as he walked briskly under the light of several moons, he felt like he actually needed to run. The fact that there was life on another planet was beyond rattling, and now he wanted to sprint. When he thought about the picture Paras took of herself, it was overwhelming for him. When he returned to his living quarters, he felt like now he needed to execute his escape.
Manson discussed his plan in more detail over the next weeks, and the recruits knew that he needed them. When the time drew closer, the recruits were poised for action. When the day arrived, Manson made haste away from the rest and entered the restroom next to the cafeteria. Plenty of recruits were still eating, but at this point, some started an altercation with the guards. They managed to grab hold of the guards’ belongings after bludgeoning them. When most of the facility’s security force made their way to the cafeteria, Manson made his way through unmanned checkpoints, closing in on the one place of interest. He entered this room wearing a security uniform and when he commanded the men who sat at the controls, they submitted dutifully.
By the end of it all, the front gate that led beyond the training base was opened, and recruits poured out in dangerous numbers. Jason waited at the gate for Manson, hoping that the gate wouldn’t close on them. Minutes passed before Manson arrived, and as soon as the two were beyond the gate, something new happened. Manson felt the pain of the young woman in the picture. He instantly knew what trials she was about to face and knew it fully.
“What just happened?” Jason asked, seeing the look on Manson’s face.
“My abilities just kicked in.”
Jason looked at Manson in absolute awe. Manson already determined that an enormous responsibility had been placed on him. Along with that was the suspicion that unseen danger lay just within reach.
So Manson and his friend parted ways. When Manson encountered a fork in the road ahead, he chose to occupy a path he deemed safely hidden from the footsteps of many. A bridge was further on the path, and then Manson was in suburbia renting a spot in a motel. For he still had money, he had won in the training base. His bed offered the best sleep he had ever seen in ages. As soon as dawn broke out, Manson was out of the motel, moving with heavy strides toward the nearby airport.
Every person he encountered in the airport put Manson ill at ease. To his defense, he had nightmares the night prior, and now things had coalesced to form nothing but high-strung energy. The people he met were suspect also, and they were all women. One bumped into him and he observed her for telltale features. The woman who gave him his ticket had hair a little too silky. When he saw a woman push a stroller, he became dizzy. Once on the plane, he had to calm down. He knew that what was about to happen required a sober, focused mind. Also, there was the atrocity of it all, the sheer brutality! After vomiting in the restroom, Manson decided to rest his head on the door until someone opened it, causing his head to ricochet hard into a wall. The pain was excruciating.
“I’m sorry,” the man said.
Manson left the bathroom caressing the side of his head. He surveyed the plane as people returned his gaze with eyes that lazily moved about. He spotted bustling movements in the back of the plane and he knew he had to move. The familiar weighed him down, yet Manson dared not slow his pace. The scuffle at hand left the hijacker with his arms pinned down until security arrived. Then, Manson saw her. Paras returned his warmth with a charm all her own and smiled.
“I knew you would come,” she said.
***
The fact that Manson had stopped a terrorist attack was not unknown to the city dwellers of the place he landed in. Razon was one single territory. There were no boundaries whatsoever. The sights of the thriving city called District 2 were wholly spectacular. Crimson colored skyscrapers blended with golden trimming. The best part was that his reaction matched Paras’. When they settled in a luxury rental in the heart of the city, Manson set his sights on finding employment, for he was not one to be content with idleness. The training base taught him that.
It seemed as if his hire at an organization that promoted worldwide suffrage owed itself more to providence than to luck. For, Manson was in the newspapers as a hero, which meant his reputation preceded itself. Manson worked by day and came to his apartment at eventide. Each time, he checked the adjacent apartment where he knew Paras would be.