A PERFECT WORLD
By Trent Wolf
Chapter One: A Parting Gift
Eric Travis was closing in on the final days of his stay within the confines of the states’ finest correctional facility, Nevada State Penitentiary. As he went about his job as a trustee in the prison infirmary, he thought back on the last five years and considered himself very lucky. It could have been a whole lot worse if it hadn’t been for his talent as an artist.
On his first day, the big dog of the prison and a few of his lackeys paid him a visit. He was expecting the worst until ‘Red’, as he was called, noticed his sketch pad and began flipping through it. His eyes lit up, and from then on, Eric was untouchable.
The rest of his time was spent drawing pictures for other inmates in exchange for favors and such. His old job with a graphic design firm and years of art school did not exactly prepare him for designing tattoos and recreating pictures of fellow inmate’s girlfriends from wrinkled photographs, and he lost count of the hundreds of nude women he drew.
Eric told himself that this experience would ultimately be good for him. Like the old saying, “What doesn’t kill you, can only make you stronger.” He didn’t really believe that, but sometimes you could convince yourself of anything. And right now, he was busy trying to convince himself that he was doing a good service for some sick inmates.
“So, you’re getting out soon.” Said the elderly African-American man lying in the bed.
“That’s right. I can’t wait. It’s been five long years.” Said Eric, nodding his head as he changed the old man’s bed sheets. He always enjoyed talking to Randall Washington, an eighty-year-old inmate serving his last days in the prison infirmary. There was no racial discord between the two like it was in the rest of the prison, where the whites, blacks and browns all stayed pretty much with their own kind.
“You’re a good man, Eric.” Randall whispered with a voice ravaged by cancer. “I appreciate all you done for me. You all right for a white boy.”
“No problem.” Eric chuckled. “It’s been a real trip hasn’t it?”
“I’m gonna miss you, boy.” Randall said and then let out a long series of ragged coughs.
“Take it easy there, Pops.” Eric said, patting the fragile old man on the chest. “You’re going to cough up what’s left of your lungs.”
The old man wheezed and then whispered. “Eric, I want you to have something.”
“What’s that?” Eric asked as he tucked in the last sheet.
“Take my hand.” Randall said as he held up a bony wrinkled hand.
Eric took the hand gently and then tensed up when the old man suddenly squeezed his hand hard. He was surprised at the strength of Randall, even though the cancer had turned him into a shell of his former self.
“Listen carefully to what I’m gonna tell you…”
“Sure Pops, what is it?” Eric said with concern. He could tell by the look in Randall’s eyes that he was about to tell him something very serious.
“I’m gonna give you a gift.” Randall whispered. “I ain’t used it in years, but I figure I ain’t got much use for it now anyways, so I figure I might as well pass it on to someone else. You a good boy. I like you. What you in for weren’t right. You know it and I know it. I want you to use this gift to get back what’s rightfully yours.”
Eric was so enraptured by the old man’s words, that it took him several seconds to notice that his hand felt like it was burning.
“This gift will allow you to look at someone, anyone, and bend them to your will.”
Eric furrowed his eyebrow. What was the old man saying? Was he finally losing it?
“You won’t believe it at first, but once you try it, you’ll see, I promise. This is all you have to do…” Randall began to explain.
Eric listened intently as the elderly man laid out instructions for the so-called gift. From what Eric could surmise, it was some sort of telepathic thought control, which the user could take and use to manipulate another person’s mind. Like plugging in and reworking the emotions and actions of another person. Randall called it, “tapping.”
“All you got to do is tap in…just with eye contact…and you tell that person what you want, and they can’t help but do it.” Randall said. “You use it how you want. Use it to get back these last five years. Now understand one thing, I used this myself to hurt someone a long time ago, and I deserved to be punished for it, but you use it as you see fit, hear? Now, this is only going to hurt for a second…”
Then something incredible happened. Eric’s hand and arm tensed up, and then suddenly his whole body seemed to come alive as if electricity was flowing through his nervous system. Eric clenched his teeth, and suddenly he felt as if his brain were being fried. He shut his eyes and saw a bright shower of sparks, which lasted only a few seconds.
Then it was over.
Eric opened his eyes again, his ears ringing. He looked down at the old man, who had his eyes closed and now lay completely still. When the ringing stopped, Eric finally noticed that Randall’ heart monitor had flat lined, emitting a continuous beep. Soon, the prison physician came rushing up to the bed.
“Step back.” The doctor said, and Eric let the old man’s hand go. It flopped on the bed, lifeless. As a nurse approached to assist the doctor with CPR, Eric slowly backed away. His friend, Randall Washington, was gone.
The End of Chapter One.