Herod Sayle: A Narrative Fiction

“The last nightmare I remember vividly was back in grad school,” she said. “I woke up sobbing hysterically because I dreamed he walked up to me on the street.  That’s all, and it was enough for me to absolutely lose my s***.

“She hasn’t felt too healthy since my brother Allie dies. She’s very nervous. That’s another reason why I hated like hell for her to know I got the ax

“Well good morning to you too, Jean Louise. Did you sleep well?” Her voice was frail, her eyes were red and baggy. I could tell she did not sleep much last night.

“Buut my name’s Gavin dad..” he simply stared at me with a smirk, his face only made me think more. As I pulled the covers of my bed up past my nose I started to think more, and the more I thought the more I could hear the shivers running quickly down my back, almost as every bone in my spine was popping, I could hear it, this had to be a dream.

I felt someone rubbing my arm softly. When I opened my eyes, I was on the couch with… Katy was snuggled up against me and held my arm in place as I tried to move it from cradling her. Oh, but the man’s deep harsh voice that now rattled my brain had me frozen in place and in pain. Katy covered most of my face being in front of me as we spooned, but I could see (who had to be her dad) on the wall size TV looking at the two of us huddled closely together.

In the middle of the night, Alex was in the middle of finishing his paper for a school assignment with already five empty cans of Red Bull. Alex couldn’t think straight knowing that it was due the next day. Exhausted, Alex decides to take a thirty minute nap. What harm would a thirty minute nap do to me?, thought Alex. He went to bed, set the alarm, and fell asleep. Ten minutes seem to pass when Alex wakes up, but something didn’t seem right. He couldn’t seem to move or speak. How odd, Alex thought. Moments passed before he realized that his eyes weren’t even open. Yet, he was aware of all of his surroundings. Is this a dream?, Alex thought to himself. Moments passed when Alex didn’t seem to know what to do but to just look at his room, until

I batted my eyelashes lined with sleep. For a moment, I was disoriented to where I was. I felt around the soft bed, waving around my arms frantically. The area next to we was cold; Ross was gone. I pushed my senses to get up, tempting myself with visions

I sat up in bed gasping. I had remembered something. The night of Lizzy's death, when I had been knocked out, I had heard his voice. The words were muffled but I knew who the voice belonged to. The back of my head throbbed.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to feel alone. I know you wanna reach out for your grandma, but your mother and I are still here.”

There wasn't anything to do but talk. So the two talked quietly about the past. After the sun went down, they decided to sleep. The rock hard floor was very uncomfortable, and they both were still awake when the guard came up to check on the

Denny O’Callaghan woke to see bloodstains on his pillow, his bedsheets. He closed his eyes, groaned and rolled over. Maybe, he figured, he could fall back asleep. Blot out of his mind what he’d just seen. But the back of his head throbbed. He touched it and felt a bump the size of an egg, and his hair was sticky and matted there. His throat was so dry. He coughed. Blurry memories, specters nearly, from the night before flitted about in his mind’s eye. Vaguely shifting images. Incomplete. He’d been drinking tequila shots with the guys from the firehouse. Yelling. And then—nothing. He hoped if he kept his eyes closed long enough, maybe it would all go away.

“Take a deep breath Nora. Most people go to a psychologist after they are diagnosed with the condition that you have. I’m trying to help you.”

“My dad died of cancer, and I guess I blamed myself for not being there enough. So, I decided getting away would fix everything, but even though I’m gone, everything reminds me of him.” She wipes a tear from her eyes and sniffles, “I’m sorry, but I should go home.”

“Do you think it's my fault for moms death?” Geana said as her eyes filled with tears

The scribe did not notice the eyes of the horseman turn northward and look with pride, scorn and a smugness toward the Mariamme Tower. This was only seventy-four feet high, but one of the most beautiful and characteristic towers ever conceived and designed. Built as the final of three wall towers, it was named for King Herod's first and most loved Hasmonean wife, whom he had murdered so he could marry his evil seductive mistress, Herodias. The tower Simon feasted his eyes on past that shorter tower was the Phasael Tower, named after Herod's brother as of today stood as the tallest structure in all of Israel. “Until this afternoon!” thought Simon. “I will build a higher structure than any! It will be higher and remain