The Journals of Raymond Brooks by Amit Bobrov - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXVII - A Few Days Ago

It was a few months later when that last conversation occurred. However, there was an unwelcome guest about to visit our house — Benny. I know this because somebody was watching him and gave me this account later…

Benny laid in ambush, as he has been for the last couple of months now, hidden by the bushes and trees of a pastoral settlement in Israel. It was a warm night — too warm, like every night. Yet it was a special night. The monster hiding in the settlement received special company. Benny peered through his scope to get a better look at the small figure making her way to the monster’s lair.

She wore long black trousers, and a matching black sweater; her face hidden by a black shawl. At first glance, from her size, Benny judged her to be a seventeen-year-old girl. However, a streak of grey hair told him otherwise. Benny peered closer, steadying his breathing and the scope to get a better look.”

Raymond opened the door for her, wearing a white golf shirt, dark blue trousers, and a holstered pistol at his belt. They stared at each other for a few silent moments. Benny’s mind raced with the possibilities. Is she a challenger to his dominion over the settlement? Is she a rival? An ally? Why are they staring at each other?

‘Raymond,’ she said, almost breaking into tears. He embraced her and she leaned on his arms.

‘My daughter,’ Raymond said. ‘You have returned to me.’ He said in a voice heavy with emotion.

His spawn! Benny thought, and a puzzled thought entered his mind? Is it possible for a monster to hold human compassion in his heart? Or even love for his offspring? Apparently, the answer is yes.

‘I’m so sorry!’ They both said.

‘I should never have left,” she said. “I should have never let you leave,’ he replied emotionally. Benny has been tailing Raymond for a while now, and this was the first display of emotion he had ever seen from him.

“Please come inside,” Raymond said as she released him from her grasp. Benny aimed for her head, his finger on the trigger. For whatever strange reason Benny hesitated a moment longer, losing her.

‘Damn it!’ Benny thought. "His surveillance equipment couldn’t capture audio from inside the house and he lost the shot."

Meanwhile, I came in with the meal. It was a three course meal consisting of four dishes. I smiled and then began a prepared speech.

“Goose leg a la Jaunee! First we have an appetizer of shots of tomato gazpacho to amuse the mouth.” The first course is tartar of red tuna, coated with spices. The main course will be goose leg in cherry liqueur with root vegetable puree — if I can get it right! And for dessert there is chocolate soufflé. In short, it’s a feast suitable for a king!

“I must say, you had quite a childhood, Jaunee,” Raymond began the conversation.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I replied lightly.

“Horrid, you mean,” he replied, surprised by my statement.

“It wasn’t so bad. I mean, comparatively speaking many children had much worse.”

“Just because some kids had it worse, doesn’t mean yours was a walk in the park.”

“No, but I survived, didn’t I? I got to see a lot of the world, and I loved the adventures.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,”

“What about you? Yours wasn’t a walk in the park either, as you call it, my American father.”

“I never said mine was easy.”

“But you survived, didn’t you?”

“Yes …”

“And it was exciting, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And don’t tell me you would have rather lived a simple, boring life, Ray, ‘cause I know you.”

“No …”

“So there you have it, Ray, you’ve had adventures and you’ve liked them.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“If you wouldn’t mind some positive criticism …”

“Of course I don’t mind, fire at will.”

“Well, it seems to me — and it comes across your writing, that you’re very focused on negative emotions. Your feelings mostly alternate between anger and sadness…”

“I had an angry childhood!”

“There’s no need to be defensive. I’ll stop if you want me to, white flag and all!”

“No, no, I apologize. I was out of line.”

“Very well then, so as I was saying, you’re constantly angry or sad, and rarely happy,” I said.

“You’re right, I guess,” he admitted.

“Why do you think that is?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Guess I wasn’t too happy then,” he replied.

“And nowadays?” I asked.

“Not too happy now either,” he confessed.

“I think you just don’t know how to enjoy life,” I said.

“I do enjoy life,” he protested.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“All right, when’s the last time you made love to a woman?” I asked.

“What?” He asked, stunned.

“Made love. Come on, we’re all grown people here,” I said.

“Well …” he began. “It’s been a while,”

“Days?” I pressed.

“No, a while,” he replied.

“Weeks? Months?” I pushed and my face remained blank.

“Years? Decades?” I pressed. I nodded yes somewhere between ‘years’ and ‘decades’. “God, Ray!” I said. “All right, when’s the last time you went on a date, a romantic one?” I asked as soon as I’d recovered from the initial shock.

“A while,” he admitted dryly.

“See, Ray?” I said.

“I don’t think fornication is the measure of fun,” he protested.

“All right, how about bar-hopping? Going dancing? Eating at a fancy restaurant? Even playing a computer game?” I asked.

“I don’t do these things,” he replied. Just then the house alarm sounded. Ray was angry and went to answer the door. I, feeling a strange mix of glee and private indignation, turned the Mozart record up to full volume.

This will irritate Raymond when he's to his soundproof room!

Remember Benny, dear reader…the one I told you about at the beginning of the journals? That was when he struck, and I…I was sick and ill prepared…I’m sorry Raymond, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.

Today.

As Benny, the slayer of Raymond Brooks finished reading the whole journal in his house, he cried, like a man whose very life was torn apart.

“What have I done! Oh God, what have I done!” He screamed, pulling at his hair, wiping his face with his hands. If this man had any resemblance to the proud man, the army officer, the police detective who has slain mighty Raymond Brooks, it would have taken a visionary to see it.

Benny had published a small portion of the journals as a work of fiction under a pseudo-name. In a way, he had wanted to fulfill Raymond’s final wish.

As time passed and Benny grew famous as a novelist, his misery only grew. He was stricken with such terrible guilt, that every day he held his gun to his face, wondering what it would be like to pull the trigger.

Benny wasn’t a wicked man. In his world view there was good and bad, white and black. There were no shades of Grey. He was the white knight, and these alien monsters; they were evil. But now, with the full realization and acknowledgment that he wasn’t a good man at all, his guilt ruined him and drove him to madness. He returned to the house which began this odyssey, the house of Raymond Brooks, seeking closure. He did not bother to watch as the security cameras showed an aging blond man in a business suit approach the house.

As Benny asked yet again “What have I done?” Sitting alone in the abandoned house, a rasping voice finally replied.

“You shot my son,” it said. Moments later several shots were fired, but they were not heard by the surrounding community. As mortal men and women went about their lives, the supernatural world was at war; a war ignited by the publication of the journals. For you see dear Reader, secrecy is the keystone — the foundation for any good conspiracy. And as the journals saw the light of publication, names, locations, identities and deeds of many creatures living to this day were exposed. It was only a matter of time before a bored conspiracy fan investigated the evidence spread through the volumes of the Journals, that the truth was revealed. It’s ironic, that of all the supernatural creatures in the world, I was the first to be exposed fully to the mundane world, exposed by the very Journals my beloved stepfather wrote.

To be continued …