The night turned into day, then night again. The two new lovers had drowned the world out. They left all the pain behind. They existed for no other reason than to make each other happy. Atom bombs would shake the world, and they would not leave each other. Strange things would walk the earth, and recreate it. But the lovers would not know. Time passed like wine from a glass, but not a day’s age could be seen.

At that corner booth, nothing changed. But even the bar changed around them. It grew in size, and deflated, and grew again.

After years of talking and drinking, Minus excused himself. He stepped out the back door, shivered in the winter chill, and lit a cigarette. He leaned against the cold brick wall, and tried his best not to think. Across the street an illuminated clock tower, on the top of a bank, told him that it had been three years since he had entered the bar.

This didn’t really surprise Minus. He knew how odd time could be. Outside his 28 years, he had lived forever. But he wondered to himself how many times had Harry approached them and made the same offer? Night after night, for 3 years? Or just that first night?

Minus walked back inside and sat down next to Jane.

He did not tell Jane about the bank’s clock tower. He simply pulled the brown bag out from under the table, and pulled out his homemade wine. Within a minute, Harry was at the table, asking about memory again.

“Maybe last night, but not tonight. Not ever,” Jane answered in much the same way that Minus remembered.

Harry looked to Minus, “Sir, would you consider tonight an occasion to forget?” The same line. His head was working now. Minus saw the ploy.

“I think it is time for me to remember, Harry. Time to remember everything.”

“As you wish, Sir. Swords to Rope,” Harry dropped only the bag labeled ‘Forget Me Nots’ and walked off.

Minus picked up the bag and emptied it’s contents onto the table. He knew what he would see before we opened it. He remembered all of it. The drinks, and the bags, and the conversations.

Out of the brown paper bag, fell three smaller plastic bags, and a small golden box. The golden box contained a razor, a tube, and 4 red pills. The plastic bags each contained white powder. One labeled ‘K,’ another labeled ‘M,’ and the third was labeled ‘A.’

Jane looked confused. Minus poured them each a glass from his bottle of homemade wine. He dumped out the contents of the golden box, and pushed two of the red pills towards Jane.

“Hold onto these until I tell you to take them.”

“What’s going on, Minus? I feel so confused. My head is spinning…” Jane trailed off, and took a sip of the wine.

“It’s alright, Jane. Someone tricked us. Trapped us. I’m not certain, but I think it was just me that they wanted. This is not the first time something like this has happened to me. My memory is becoming more clear by the second. Please, just do what I ask you to,” said Minus, with a ruffling of his eye brows.

“Okay.. I think..” Jane was dazed. Her heart pounded. Her head throbbed.

Minus was busy emptying the white powders into the golden box. He dumped all 3 bags into the small box, and mixed the powders together. He used the razor to separate the powder in to two equal lines. He finished his glass of wine and poured another, as well as topping Jane’s glass. He took the tube to his nose, and inhaled one of the two lines. He pushed the box towards Jane, and handed her the tube.

She did the same, bringing her line of powder into the nasal cavity. Soon she was wide awake, but everything seemed very dream like. She wasn’t confused any longer. She was starting to remember things. Things she had not thought about in three years. She was a little startled, but she realized that in that time, she had found love. Someone who would never steer her in the wrong direction intentionally.

The last of the homemade wine was poured into their glasses, and at the last sip, Minus told Jane to swallow the red pills.

“Be ready to run. Just in case. I don’t think we will have to. But be ready,” Minus looked at Jane with a fire in his eyes.

He started counting backwards from sixty. When he counted off one, then zero, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He stood.

“Follow my lead,” he told Jane. She really didn’t see that she had much of a choice. She stood up beside him.

They began to walk towards the back door, to which Minus had the key. The bar was completely empty. It looked very different from the time they had entered. Minus reached out his hand and grabbed the knob on the back door. He slung it open, and as he did, they were hit with a torrential rain. He took off his winter overcoat and put it over Jane’s head.

“Run to that truck! That blue one. Really rusty. Hurry!” He had to scream for Jane to hear him over the rain’s noise.

She made a sprint to the truck. When she was standing beside the passenger door, she turned to look at Minus. He was pushing hard against the wind and rain to force the door closed. When he finally got it closed, all of the way, he leaned all of his weight into his shoulder and fumbled with the key in his hands. She saw that he was able to lock the door.

Minus was surprised to find that when he took the key out of the door it had remained closed, and apparently locked. He shoved the key into his pocket and ran for the truck. By the time he got there, the rain had stopped completely, and a mist was coming from the ground.

They got into the truck together and watched the fog rise.

“Remind me to melt this key later,” Minus said under heavy breaths. He still had the cigarette in his mouth, but it was out and completely soaked. He rolled the window down slightly and threw it out.

“What the Hell was that all about?” Jane was almost hysterical. She was fairly certain she should be, but it was hard. She felt very in control for the first time in a very, very long time.

“Time. Time and punishment. Rewards for sacrifices. Runes to Swords. Swords to Rope.”

————-

At the close of part 4, we see the end of a story arc. Strange things have happened. Will you join me again to find out why? If you felt a little confused, it might be a good idea to start with #1.

Jack
I Listen.

The Cost of Magic
Section #4
The Passage of Time

———

Runes to Swords

After the awkward moments that followed the pile up, Minus ordered replacement drinks, four margaritas, and two more pitchers. Jane didn’t tell him the margaritas had been empty before the accident.

They turned up their beer, and took stock of each other. Minus saw the silky, white aura. Jane saw a man that would change her life, and every aspect of it. She didn’t know why.

After Minus finished his pool game, collecting a large wad of cash from the other player. He put his cue up, and joined Jane in the small corner booth. They talked for hours. They told stories. They talked about life. They talked about dreams.

“I walked on water, once,” said Minus as he left the table, in search of the restrooms. “There were pictures, I think…”

Jane was more than a little puzzled as she watched him walk away. They had talked about a lot of things that had been hard to swallow, but were none the less true. But water-walking? She shrugged the statement off to the alcohol.

Minus returned with a bottle in a brown bag. “They closed up about an hour ago, but the staff knows me. This is homemade wine,” he held up the bagged bottle. “And this, is the key to the door. We’re to lock up when we’re done.”

One of the bouncers, who was actually a bit smaller than Minus, walked up to the table. He held out two small brown bags. One was labeled “Forget-Me-Nots,” the other, “Forget-Me-Dos.”

“Sir, would you consider tonight an occasion to forget?” He was looking at Minus.

“No, Harry, but there are many occasions I would love to forget,” Minus sounded more clear, like the drink had no hold on him. Just for a moment.

“Madame, would you consider tonight an occasion to forget?” He looked to Jane.

Jane felt her head clear suddenly. It was more than a little scary. “No, not tonight. Last night, yes. I hope I never forget tonight.”

The bouncer dropped both bags on the table.

“Forget me, then. And forget not this night. Runes to Swords.”

————

Enjoy.

Jack
I Listen.

The Cost of Magic
Section #3
Runes to Swords

Jane had left her house that night, determined to drink away the pain, and to never care about what a man thought again. She had gone out alone, to drink alone, and to cry alone. She sat down in a dark corner, had the waitress bring her two margaritas and 2 pitchers of the cheap stuff. She wanted to have to crawl to the taxi.

She finished the margaritas fast. Slammed back the first glass of beer, and half watched a group of men playing pool at the table closest to her. When she looked up after slamming back a second glass, she realized that two empty glasses now sat on the small table. She filled them both without thinking, starting to spin slightly. A large hand reached back and grabbed the second glass.

There was a moment of pain and screams and laughs and spilled beer and confusion. Minus had sat down on Jane, in a drunken back step reaching for his no longer empty beer glass.

——

Jack.
I Listen.

The Cost of Magic
Section #2
Enter Jane

Feel a little lost? Try starting at the start.

————————————-

This is a true story. A story about my city. Chattanooga. I love it like no other. In this city, it’s rare for someone to say, “I love living here.” Mostly you just hear people talk about leaving. People new to the city often complain that it has a way of sucking you in, so you can’t seem to leave, no matter how hard you try.

I’ve always been here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was born here. I’ve spent many summer looking at the stars. I’ve spent many winters watching the city lights grow in number, year by year.

This is a story about disappearing. For such a small city, it’s so easy to disappear. When you’re gone, you’re gone. Most people forget they ever knew you. I don’t forget.

I met Will in the early summer one year, in a local bar. He was an old man to me. That summer, he told me his years numbered 60. I bought him a beer, and loaned him a cigarette, and he told me stories.

He was a Vietnam veteran. He had shrapnel lodged in his leg and chest from his tour of duty. He came home to find that he couldn’t work anymore from the pain. The Veterans Administration moved him into the Social Security Building, gave him a fixed income and a constantly growing addiction to pain medicine. When I met Will, he was taking 120mg of morphine and 80mg of oxycodone a day.

My girlfriend of the time often remembered the first time I introduced her to Will, pleasantly. She could not hear his name over the noise of the bar. After mistakenly calling him something else, he told her, “My name is Will, but you can call me anything but late for supper.”

Always a smile, always a laugh. A man could hardly have a better disposition.

He once told me that a man can’t tell a lie, it’s a lie that tells a man.

Whenever he got his prescriptions filled, he’d sell his morphine and oxycodone to people he trusted. A fixed income and an apartment in the Social Security Building in Chattanooga is just a small step up from homeless.

One night he came to the bar and sold some pills to several people. He had been drinking and taking the medicines himself, and there was a bit of a mix up. When those people figured out they were taking vitamins instead of opiates, he apologized, and promised to fix the issue.

The last time I saw Will, he was leaving the bar to walk home. He had had a few beers, and I had watched him swallow several pills. I never saw Will again. No one I know has.

A disappearance. It happens all the time. How many people will you forget? How many people will vanish from your life without a second thought?

I’ve often told people that the greatest ability of the human mind is that it is able to forget. I sometimes wonder.

Jack.
I Listen.

Fragments
#1
Disappearing People

—

Drink in the night.
Can you feel this flavor?
The wine is deep red.
The love is crystal clear.
Drink with me.
This cup we share.
We are not this.
We never were.
One moment,
trapped in amber,
perfect,
in its eternal happiness,
is more than we
could ever ask for.
Drink with me.
This cup we share.
Spill the wine.

(poem inspired by the works of Jalal ad-Din Rumi.)

-Jack.
I Listen.
I Travel.

I’ve always been here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was born here. I’ve spent many summer looking at the stars. I’ve spent many winters watching the city lights grow in number, year by year.

This is a story about disappearing. For such a small city, it’s so easy to disappear. When you’re gone, you’re gone. Most people forget they ever knew you. I don’t forget.

I met Will in the early summer one year, in a local bar. He was an old man to me. That summer, he told me his years numbered 60. I bought him a beer, and loaned him a cigarette, and he told me stories.

He was a Vietnam veteran. He had shrapnel lodged in his leg and chest from his tour of duty. He came home to find that he couldn’t work anymore from the pain. The Veterans Administration moved him into the Social Security Building, gave him a fixed income and a constantly growing addiction to pain medicine. When I met Will, he was taking 120mg of morphine and 80mg of oxycodone a day.

My wife often remembers the first time I introduced her to Will, pleasantly. She could not hear his name over the noise of the bar. After mistakenly calling him something else, he told her, “My name is Will, but you can call me anything but late for supper.”

Always a smile, always a laugh. A man could hardly have a better disposition.

He once told me that a man can’t tell a lie, it’s a lie that tells a man.

Whenever he got his prescriptions filled, he’d sell his morphine and oxycodone to people he trusted. A fixed income and an apartment in the Social Security Building in Chattanooga is just a small step up from homeless.

One night he came to the bar and sold some pills to several people. He had been drinking and taking the medicines himself, and there was a bit of a mix up. When those people figured out they were taking vitamins instead of opiates, he apologized, and promised to fix the issue.

The last time I saw Will, he was leaving the bar to walk home. He had had a few beers, and I had watched him swallow several pills. I never saw Will again. No one I know has.

A disappearance. It happens all the time. How many people will you forget? How many people will vanish from your life without a second thought?

I’ve often told people that the greatest ability of the human mind is that it is able to forget. I sometimes wonder.

- Loki.
(Chattanooga, A Love Story: fragment 1)