The Time Stone, Third Edition (Extended Version)
Chapter 4

Miles away from the downtown area where the mayhem of the crime scene continues, the daylight is bright over the city’s residential district. The sun shines overhead and the day feels relaxed and quiet. The people of the city are going about their daily routines in the urban center. But far from the chaos of the museum, there is silence in the residential district. The routine pedestrian population is gone, where the people either are either out at work, or tucked in their homes -not knowing what has happened at the museum the night before.

Chronix Bay has had its fair share of poverty and homelessness. Among those who are aware of the decay in society, are lonely and impoverished individuals, who sulk about aimlessly. One of those wanderers is James Timewalker, a young man in his late thirties who is lost in his own world. He strides down Main Street.

“At times I wonder what it is that drives our lives. Are we the products of free will or are we subject to more ominous forces beyond our control? I remember learning about how the ancient Greeks and Romans believed that we were a product of the whim of the Gods. Modern theology teaches us that we have to believe in God’s plan. Maybe the key is having enough faith, but recognizing that faith only takes you so far. The rest is… a mystery of the unknown dimension in life,” James ponders to himself with his hands in his pockets as he struts down the street. James is often alone. He has grown accustomed to many hardships during his life. He passes by his old high school, which is now an ominous fortress, in its after-hours appearance. It appears empty, lonesome, and epitomizes the starkness of poverty. At this time of the year it is vacant with not a soul in sight. He remembers his life as a student thinking that he had always aspired for success, yet failed to achieve it - whether as a student or as a businessman. He grimaces as he thinks back over his failures in school, one of the many in his life. His eyes are dark and somber, emanating loneliness and sadness.His olive-tone skin bears signs of age. He has a permanent frown on his face as he wanders without a companion, without an opportunity, without hope - and without a prayer. He feels his dreams are an endless blur of images forever forsaken in the long expanse of time. He often wonders what the point of going on in life is, when everything seems to equate to nothing - no matter what he does.He has no worldly possessions, only the clothes on his back. He has a heavy, unkempt beard and a thick odor, for he has not had a bath in weeks. His personal hygiene vanished with his dreams long ago into the realm of oblivion. He walks across the intersection of Main Street and Avenue X as he has done hundreds of thousands of times, since he was in grade school. He’s thirty-five-years-old, homeless and destitute. The clouds begin to gather, and the rain begins to pour down hard. He walks forward with a sense of humility. He feels an acceptance of his current state of affairs, and how glory and hope might never return to his world or to his heart.

After a moment, the rainstorm passes and James walks down toward the pier and the Sea of Hope - the body of water that borders this small community. His clothes are drenched from getting caught in the downpour. He does not know where he is headed, nor does he know where he is headed for in life. He looks past the small body of water towards the shining downtown center, with its tall buildings. He hopes and prays this trip to the Sea of Hope would yield some benefit, but he felt he knew better. James saw a young man walking before him, the only other person around in the dim daylight. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The young man wonders to himself, “at times I wonder what it is that drives our lives. Are we the product of free will or are we subject to more ominous forces beyond our control? The ancient Greeks and Romans believed that we are a product of the whim of the Gods, but modern theology tells us we have to believe in God’s plan. Maybe the key is having enough faith, but recognizing that it only takes us so far. And the rest is….” Then suddenly the mind stopped thinking and blood spattered. The body stopped and fell down.

James turns and is dumbfounded by the death of a stranger, a victim of random violence. He turns and sees a silhouette of a woman in the distance, and as he strains his eyes, he sees her approaching suddenly. He thinks she looks familiar. His mind quickly conjures up the past image of a face he hasn’t laid eyes on in years, a young woman from his past who he had once harbored great feelings of attraction for, but he has always been too shy to speak to her. His mind is feeling aged, but his soul is as mighty as a runaway train. He approaches her barely making out her facial features, the intense sunlight blurring his vision. He walks along the street finding it difficult to see. As the two become physically closer, he sees more of her ever-so slightly. At first, he thinks he may be hallucinating, a mirage brought on by fooled senses because of malnutrition and dehydration. But as he approaches her, he sees her clear as day. She is dressed somewhat provocatively, wearing a short mini-skirt, netted stockings, leather boots, and a white cotton shirt tied at her waist revealing her belly. Her hair is dark with chestnut and blond highlights and is tied in a knot, behind her head.

“Tina May,” says James, his hoarse voice barely forming the words, “Tina May Prescott, is that you?” He notices her head turn, her dark brown hair and pale complexion glistening in the open street lights. “She is very beautiful!” he thinks as he approaches.

She smirks. “Do I know you?” she asks, a young lady in her thirties, accustomed to life on the streets.

“Yeah, he says standing before her, “It’s James. James Timewalker. We went to CB High together back in …,” he grunts, “...too long ago.” He laughs and she smiles in return.

“I do remember you now. You always were a funny one. How have you been?”

“Well great…”

She catches his confusion. “You’re not doing too well, huh?” She frowns seeing his shabby and unkempt appearance.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Doing well,” she replies shrugging her shoulders. “Trying to survive like everyone else,” she adds.

“Ain’t that the truth? It is nice seeing you. We ought to keep in touch.”

“That would be great.” Tina smiles in a manner symbolic of preschool puppy love. Then, a car pulls up, headlights bright purple of the old Cadillac. “Well, I have to go.” She pulls out a card from her shirt pocket and hands it to him, “call me when you get the chance.”

He thanks her. He pockets the card as she turns away and enters the old Cadillac, which pulls away. He feels the sense of butterflies in his stomach, like the school boy crush he carried once before. The feeling of romance newly revived in him makes him forget his troubles and feel young again. He thinks he might see her again soon. Then, he turns and realizes the reality of his meager existence and that the truth is that he is alone in the dimness of the street corner, and he is homeless.

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