Hey, all! The free giveaway for Killing Time ends tomorrow, so if you haven’t downloaded your copy yet, I thought I’d just give you a taste of what you’re missing:
July 5, 2002
I thought I’d lost it. Totally flipped, tripped and fallen into strait-jacket land. But I went back this morning, and it was still gone.
Listen to this. Sounds crazy, but I swear it’s what happened.
Yesterday, I was down watching the fireworks over Liberty Island, when the Statue of Liberty disappeared. Just like that, just—ffft! —vanished in front of thousands of people.
That’s right. You probably don’t know what the Statue of Liberty is. Nobody else did.
It’s a good thing that New Yorkers are used to random street lunatics. If I’d been anywhere else, running around and screaming at people about a 300-foot statue that no one else remembers existing, I probably would’ve been locked up.
When I woke up this morning, I thought maybe it had been a dream, or a hallucination, so I went back downtown to check it out.
Still gone. Liberty Island was a major entry point of immigration, just like Ellis Island. And nothing more.
July 12, 2002
Patient is beginning to suffer from hallucinations. Further evidence of an organic-related dysfunction, perhaps damage or chemical imbalance effecting the sensory and memory areas of the brain. The need for that CAT scan is becoming urgent—a regimen of drug therapy should be started as soon as possible.
Dr. West
July 7, 2002
Now I get it. Now it makes sense. I know what’s wrong with the shape of the world, now. Things are missing.
I didn’t get lost, that day, looking for my deli. It really was gone—and isn’t it funny how I haven’t thought much about it since it vanished? I used to go there three times a week! I didn’t even bother trying to look for it.
How often has that happened? All along, I’ve been noticing—subconsciously—that things were missing, but I’ve explained it away, then forgotten about it. That must be what’s happening to everyone else.
So why do I remember?
August 3, 2002
(Rustling. Leaves? Wind? Footsteps.)
I’m walking in Central Park. Some monuments were missing—a statue here, a fountain there—but I expected that.
But the trees!
What I didn’t expect were the trees. Some of the trees are missing. Whatever’s happening, it’s happening to living things now, too?
What could be doing this?
August 16, 2002
(Whispered)
Fred didn’t come in to work today. Not that unusual, right? People take sick days and days off, right?
Wrong.
Someone else was sitting at Fred’s desk, and his cubicle was completely redecorated. So I asked what happened. Did Fred get fired? Did he finally retire, only really quietly to avoid all the fuss? They all looked at me like I’d just grown antlers. Who’s Fred? They asked. Mary has worked here for the last six years.
(Pause. Footsteps pass by)
Six years? What’s this horsehockey? Fred’s been in this company—in this same damn spot—for as long as anyone can remember. At least twenty years.
I looked around to make sure that I was in the right department. After all, I’m going crazy, right, doc? Maybe I just got confused. But no, I was in accounting, right enough.
(Pause. Footsteps pass.)
I tried to call Fred’s home, but I just got one of those damn sirens and the message that says the number’s no longer in service and there’s no further information.
So I find myself with two options: either I hallucinated eight years of stopping by this cubicle every day, Super Bowl parties, and stopping by the pub on the way home; or someone is messing with me and has ‘disappeared’ Fred and all evidence of his existence to do it.
Which is crazier?
(Phone rings. Pause. Phone rings several more times, then stops)
Or maybe there’s an option three: that Fred really doesn’t exist anymore. Just like the Statue.
My god, is it working on people now?
(Phone rings)
I have to answer that.
For the rest, head on over to Amazon and download yourself a copy. And while you’re there, check out the rest of the library. Keep watching for further promotions, and new stories coming soon.