The day had gone well, but even optimists may find dark turns around bends up ahead. Jason’s writing session had been successful. This was his daily obsession, and he felt the current story was coming together well.
Rewarding himself for a job well done, as he always did, Jason put on his swimming trunks and headed for the sliding glass doors leading to the pool. The pool had been a bit of an extravagance when he’d been an up-and-coming writer, but now that he’d found a fair amount of popularity, concern about the cost had become a distant memory.
“Oh,” he thought, “a towel.”
Turning around, he headed for the bathroom closet where he kept the beach towels. Passing the bedroom, he saw Kalo sleeping peacefully on the bed.
The large fluffy beach towels served two purposes. Originally, they were towels for his daily swims, but now they were large, fluffy mats for Kalo to lie on if she followed him out to the pool.
Kalo was a rescue dog. An abusive neighbor who mistreated his wife, his children, and Kalo, had been arrested, finally, after his wife and children fled the house and battery charges were filed against him.
After everyone else had escaped the man, and before his arrest, this neighbor, Mr. Souza, had vented all his rage on the poor dog. Some nights, Mr. Souza yelling at Kalo and she crying out had almost been enough for Jason to call the police, but by the time he made up his mind to do so, the beatings ended.
Jason happened to be home writing the morning Honolulu Police Department officers came to arrest Mr. Souza. Curious, and always looking for story ideas, Jason had gone outside to watch as the police attempted to take the man into custody.
“Sir, you need to go back there,” an officer ordered, pointing to a barricade line. “Your neighbor may be armed.”
Mr. Souza had resisted arrest and barricaded himself inside his home. After a standoff of several hours, an HPD negotiator finally managed to talk Mr. Souza out of his house. After they’d taken him away, Jason had returned to his computer.
While Jason typed, he became aware of a whining noise. It was intermittent, however, so by the time he came out of his writing haze to give full attention to the real world, the sound had stopped.
It wasn’t until he walked out on the pool deck for his reward swim that Jason became fully aware of the whining. He knew at once that it was his neighbor’s dog.
In the craziness of the standoff, the thronging neighbors and media, and the subsequent arrest, poor Kalo had been forgotten. Now, alone, she longed for company, apparently even company the likes of her abusive owner.
Jason went around to the side yard to the front of his house and then walked next door. Peering through a window, he saw the poor little dog standing on the living room couch and scratching at the glass.
Trying the front door, Jason found it open. As he entered, Kalo, a very friendly, loving dog, came scampering around the corner to greet him. He stooped down to pet her, and at that moment he knew that he had to bring her to his house. Who else would take care of her?
That had been five days ago. The idea that Mr. Souza might be released on bail had not occurred to Jason.
On that fifth morning, as he stepped out on the deck, Jason called out to Kalo, asking her if she’d like to come with him.
He waited for a long moment, thinking, of all things, about Stephen King and how much time it might take the famous author to write one of his novels.
“Kalo! Kalo, girl?” he called out. Listening for her. Then again “Kalo? Oh, Kaaaaalo! You want to come outside with me little girl?”
No response.
“Oh, well,” Jason thought. “Let her sleep.”
Still wondering about Stephen King, Jason closed the sliding door firmly behind him. As he walked to the pool’s edge, he whistled an old song that popped into his head, “What’ll I Do?” and pictured himself lying face down on the air mattress in the middle of the clear blue pool.
“Hardly psychic,” he thought because that was exactly what would happen in a moment.
As he slipped over the edge of the pool, Jason thought about how he’d never been the kind of person who banged on through life, the insensitive sort who lacked feeling and never knew what it’s like when a creative moment strikes and sends the spirit soaring.
Truly, this morning’s had been a remarkable writing session.
He swam out and jumped on the air mattress, face down, and smiling, turned his head to the side and closed his eyes.
The lonely sound of a single shot echoed through the neighborhood. Jason barely felt the bullet pierce his back. Just briefly aware of what it was in the end, he saw the pool’s tiled bottom coming up to meet him.
Lanning Lee 