The Inception Trilogy by Easton Livingston (best classic novels .txt) 📗

that tenfold. His words shook him to his bones, reverberating echoes sounding like the voice of God.

The terrifying part was that Jason could only move in slow motion. No matter how hard he attempted to exert himself and move faster, it was to no avail. His cries for help were silent or near it, little more than faint screeches emitting from the bottom of his throat. Even if he could get out a scream, he knew no one would be there to hear him. Wailing in the wind.

The reasons for the screams, or the lack thereof, were because of his father. Always on his heels. Always in pursuit. The ground trembled with each of his footsteps, and then a shadow would fall over Jason as his father's monstrous hands scooped him up like a toy soldier. Unable to move in his grasp, Jason would try to squirm free as his father's scowl reprimanded him for some unknown deed. Then his fist would come down like a hammer on his head. That's when he awoke.

Sitting up, he stared at the wall with a blank expression. It was dark. The perimeter of his forehead was moist with perspiration, heart racing, pounding in his head.

In despair, he whispered to himself, “Will it ever end?”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The knock came from the front door, loud and urgent. Odd. It was rare they received visitors. It was probably one of his father's friends coming to pick him up to go to the bar. None of his business.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Jason turned his head towards his door. He would have heard his father by now complaining about all the knocking.

He may already be at the bar.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, walking to his bedroom door, opening it as quiet as he could. It was risky. If he was wrong and his father caught him, there would be an automatic assumption Jason was snooping and disobeying him on purpose. The earlier order not to come out of the room for the rest of the night was non-negotiable. The consequences would not be pretty. Yet something told him to risk it. What...what if it was his mom that was coming back? Then they could be a family again. That alone was worth it.

There wasn't much hope that would happen. That notion had danced across his mind a million times. But maybe, just maybe…he had to risk it.

With soft steps, he maneuvered towards the landing and crouched, peering around the baluster as he waited for his father to answer the door.

Nothing.

Jason couldn't make out if anyone was still at the door. Inset in middle of it was a four-foot tall piece of glass with an old, rose-colored curtain draped over it. That his father didn't answer the door could only mean that his first thought was correct: he was out drinking or going to get something to drink. He sighed. That meant he’d be stuck in his room for the night. If he wanted to answer the door, he needed to do it right then. There was no telling when his father would get back, and he was getting hungry. This would be the only time he could grab something to eat and take it up to his bedroom. He had a stash in his room already, but it never hurt to stock up.

He made his way down the stairs, parting the curtain an inch. No one was there. A small, dark shape sat in front of the door on the porch. Wary of his father's return home, he flicked on the porch light and looked out again. The dark shape was a gift bag. It had seen better days. Someone had pulled it from the trash.

Satisfied no one was there, Jason unlocked the deadbolt, unhooked the chain, and opened the door a crack. Sticking his head out, he looked around to see who it was who could have left it there, but saw nor heard anyone. Still cautious, he stepped out, performed a quick snatch-and-grab, closed and locked the door. Bounding up the stairs to his bedroom, he held the bag handle with a tight grip. Closing the door, he switched on the light and sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bag in his lap.

There were golden stars set against the glossy, red backdrop of the bag. The stars sparkled as the room’s light reflected off of the shimmering confetti which made up each one. His excitement allowed him to get past the smell of wherever it had been. The bag was medium-sized, the contents wrapped in white gift tissue paper. He stared at it in silence. Who would want to leave him a present? Few packages, if any, ever came to his house and no one ever had sent him mail. It was more than a surprise. It was a mystery.

With care, Jason reached inside and grabbed the object, unwrapping it, making sure he didn't tear the fragile paper. His excitement crescendoed as he unfolded the paper layer by layer. He knew it was just useless paper, but he didn't want to rush it. After what had happened earlier, he wanted to savor the moment as much as possible.

For a moment, he paused. What if this was a stupid practical joke by Frankie? No. That couldn’t be it. Frankie lived too far away. Plus, he was a show-off and no one would be there to see the joke.

What if it was for his father? That made him freeze. The wrath that would fall if he found out. Then he realized his father had no friends that would give him a gift in that kind of bag. No way. Plus, he couldn’t remember the last time his father had received a gift. As much as he tried, he couldn’t think of it being anything but a genuine present for him. If it wasn’t, he’d just put it back as he found it.

Minutes later, the wrapping paper was unfolded.

It was a rock.

A rock?

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