Ancient Rising

Chapter 1 - Arise From the Angry Seas

I  had  been  in  a  state  of  mind  where  I  was  just  looking  to  leave  this plane of existence. I was alone. And there we were, with death staring back at  me,  not  wanting  to  take  that  last  walk  into  the  great  abyss  and  at  the mercy of the fury of a God that I had released upon us. But before I could contemplate our next move, I had to go back to the root of it all, where it all began.

I lost my wife, Annabelle and daughter, Jeanie about a year ago.

It was a typical Florida Summer day. They had spent it frolicking with Mickey, Minnie and all the other colorful sidekicks from the Mouse House. They wanted me to go as well but I had work to do. I was finishing up book number eight of my series and didn’t want to lose the groove I was in. For writers, when you hit a groove, you have to keep writing until it all gets out of you. It eats at you – the words. While you watch television or eat dinner or speak with your loved ones, the words gnaw at you like a rabid animal trying to escape a trap by biting its own leg off. I was in one of those grooves.

They  called  me  a  few  times  throughout  the  day  to  let  me  know  what Jeanie had done, who she had pictures with, what they had eaten. It annoyed me to no end. I wanted to sit in my study – alone - my computer and I, with a silent  cocoon  of  apocalyptic  madness  enveloping  me.  My computer was several years old and took quite a few minutes to bring itself to a capacity to where   I   could   actually   communicate   with   the   outside   world.   Once   it mercifully allowed me to type, I would get into my – for lack of a better term – zone.

Whenever Annie or Jeanie would call, it would break me out of my zone and I would stare at the keyboard for a number of minutes trying to get back to the place I was before they disturbed me. It made me recall the scene from The   Shining   where   Jack   Nicholson   went   crazy   because   his   wife   kept bothering him with trivial things. Note this, friend: Nothing is trivial. Nothing. Around seven that evening, I received a phone call from Annie that they were on their way back home. Tampa, where we had our home, was about an hour and a half away from Disney World so I knew not to expect them until around nine. So back I went into my little world, no worse for the wear.

It  was  around  10pm  when  I  took  a  break  and  looked  at  the  clock. Strange. Annie and Jeanie weren’t home yet. I searched for our cordless phone. You couldn’t miss the damn thing. It was grey and shaped like a cat. The top of it had these huge spooky cat eyes. The wife always seemed to have it near her haunts. I checked her reading chair.  Not there.  Then the kitchen, nothing.  The laundry room.  Nope.  I finally found the monstrosity on her nightstand and quickly dialed her cell.

“Hi, it’s Annie and you’ve reached 555-6030, sorry but I’m away from the phone – which by the way is pretty difficult when it’s on your damn hip all the time.  Ha, ha.  Anywho, leave a message at the beep,” her cheerful recorded voice recited.

“Hi honey,” I said to the machine, “I was just wondering what’s keeping you guys. Give me a call, kay?”

I was a little concerned. Annie never turned off her phone – in fact, since I had purchased the stupid little things for the both of us, I don’t believe I ever had to leave a voicemail for her. I had a chapter to go in my book and tried to get back at it – but I had lost the groove. My mind was now drifting toward the girls. Where could they be? Perhaps a bad accident on I-4 was holding them up?

I called her again. Once more, no answer.

I decided to turn on the TV. They must have been caught up in traffic. Perhaps they made a stop for dinner somewhere. I flipped the channels but still couldn’t find anything to distract myself with. I called again. No answer. Another hour of mind-numbing must-see TV passed. Annie still wasn’t answering her phone. I began to slightly panic.