Did he wake up in a sweat?

His mate on that day was Buzz Aldrin. Buzz's main memory was of:

"...The surface of the moon was like fine talcum powder. It was very loose at the top. As you begin to get deeper, a half inch or so, it becomes much more compact, almost as if it's cemented together, though it isn't. It just seems that way because there are no air molecules between the molecules of dust. When you put your foot down in the powder, the boot print preserved itself exquisitely."

That amazing trip. And what he remembers is the way that the dust preserved something for life. Buzz along with Neil are preserved for life, their footprint has left its imprint for ever. Up there, up there on the moon.

Funny, it's not like Hollywood Boulevard. People can't exactly walk past it and look down and wonder at it. You can have your photo taken in front of Neil's footprint in moon dust. It's just crazy isn't it. What is the point of being famous and no one can really see what has been done.

It's funny, it's just funny.

Some day, when I'm awfully low,
When the world is cold,
I will feel a glow just thinking of you
And the way you look tonight.

I remember the distinct sound of her wings. It was like the snap of an umbrella opening. Not that she ever used them, even though she couldn't exist without them. I would peak through the sheets trying to make sure she couldn't see me.

She would open the blind slowly and the sun would rush in foolishly, trying to see what was going on. It would wrap itself around her until she glowed and you could feel a warmth spread through the room, even on the coldest mornings.

She looked quickly around on one such morning. She caught me looking. I quickly clutched my eyes closed.

I slit an opening to see where she was and if she was still watching. I found her face only centimeters from mine. The glow of her skin was magical. Her wings were outstretched and fluttered. I could see their shadow against the wall. Quickly I snapped shut my eyes again. I felt her warm breath on my cheek as her lips pressed against it with a kiss.

Yes you're lovely, never, ever change
Keep that breathless charm.
Won't you please arrange it?
'Cause I love you
Just the way you look tonight.

I didn't want to open my eyes again. I didn't want the scene to disappear. I wanted it to be there always.

I remember this particular morning. A new Korean family had just taken over the 7Eleven. I said hello as I entered the brightly lit premises. I picked up the paper and looked through the magazines. I particularly like PC Mags, and quickly ferret through the stand to see if any of my favorites have a new issue. I rarely buy one as it's hard to read at this time of the morning and I didn't have my glasses. It's actually a lot easier to see the scantily clad females that adorn the "girlie" magazines right next to the PC Mags.

I heard the little Korean lady laugh loudly following a comment from her husband. I happened to be the only person in the store. In these cases I always assume the person is laughing at me. She was probably laughing at the overweight, balding man in a badly fitting track suit walking up and down the aisles.

Okay, it was laughable. Why is it that the most unfit and overweight people across the entire world are the ones wearing track suits? As if the very act of wearing them will make them fit and trim. We're a sorry lot.

I went up to pay for my paper. The Korean lady smiled broadly. There wasn't a mean streak in her body.

But again I heard her laugh stab me from behind as I walked toward the door to exit the premises. There was one of those circular mirrors that distorts everything but provides a 180 degree view.

I had thought I was alone, but wasn't. In the reflection I saw a male, approximately 185 cm tall, black hair tied into a pony tail at the back. I could not see his face. As he walked down the aisle, I caught the glint of metal that peeked out from the leg bottom of his pants and strapped to his ankle.

I stepped outside. I waited patiently. There was no movement. There were no shadows that rushed across walls or towered over cowered bodies. Today's over lit environments prevent all the drama of a hollywood film noir.

After a few minutes, I decided to go back and see if everything was okay. I could see no one at the counter, but at this time of the morning I assumed that they were stacking shelves and talking about the fat, bald guy in the track suit. I looked around, but couldn't see anyone stacking anything.

I walked in carefully. I approached the counter area. A bank of security cameras that I could see in the adjoining room showed no movement. The only thing I could see was an open cash register and a trail of blood that was slowing making its way across the floor. It was taking its time. No hurry. There was no rush.

Life however, wasn't so accommodating. From where it once existed only a few minutes before, it had now disappeared. Made a convenient departure. Escaped, if you like. Disappeared like the person who had also been here.

That had been my first encounter with Jesus Miguel Luis Rodriguez. That was a few years ago now, but I have recalled it recently when a new Korean family took over the 7Eleven. I heard the wife laugh. She was petite and with a warm face. It must have been that goddam track suit.

There was a small squeal that was coming from it as it fluttered madly. It was a bird. A sparrow that was badly wounded. It flapped its wings wildly. It was probably wondering why it couldn't get back up into the air. Up high where it belonged.

Imagine, being free one moment and totally helpless the next. Nothing ever prepares you for this kind of thing.

I stopped for a few seconds and then kept going. My train would almost be pulling into the station.

From behind I could hear the flapping, it was useless. There was a desperation that would continue until the poor bird was completely exhausted.

I have never done this, but I found myself walking back. I stood over the bird. I picked up a rock. I would kill it with one blow and that would be the end of it. I'd put the poor bugger out of its misery.

I looked around, I didn't know what anyone seeing me do this would actually think. I held the rock high, took special aim and let drop with all my might. I heard the thump of rock against body.

The bird flapped wildly.

It didn't want to let go of life.

I struck again. Again, there was the sound of a dead object striking life. I must have weighed a hundred times heavier than that bird, but the effect was the same.

Life is difficult to eradicate with one blow. It's doesn't die easily.

I took another deep breath. Again I lifted the rock and struck and struck and struck.

The flapping continued, and then subsided and then stopped. It stopped. Finally. Thank god.

I felt sick. I understood where the pit of my stomach was right then. I could feel it.

I had killed the bird. I had stopped its life. I hoped I had done the right thing. I hoped so from the pit of my stomach.

I wish she'd go away.

I met a girl who wasn't there
She wasn't there again, today

I wish she'd go away.

I wish ...

Even the great George Frederic Handle wrote a Concerto for Recorder. I suppose that back in the 18 century there wasn't much else to do on a Saturday night.

Well, call me old fashioned but the recorder has been known to bring tears to my eyes. It has also known to turn my stomach and completely give me the shits. Go to any end of term school concert and there you'll hear it.

"Mums and dads, and carers", I was there to see my niece, so I suppose I fell into the latter category of the School Principal's introduction. "The opening number is that well known recent hit called sdiooppoiu."

"What, what did he say?" I had missed the name of the well known recent hit and I knew this was dangerous. I know a lot of well known recent hits. I just have no idea why you would want to play them on the Recorder.

"Greensleeves" is about it. Even then at a push. But throw a Brittany Spears or a Madonna at the instrument and you have an instrument of death. It becomes a WMD (Weapon of Mass Destruction). Even a Barry Manilow number would sound worse than it already does.

Hey, just suck it in and get on with it. I was there to see Jemma. She was great. Maybe one day I could be bold enough to find someone who could help me raise a child as vibrant and vivacious as my niece.

I was also there to keep a close eye on Jesus who was there with Silvia to see Marie's school concert.

His gold tooth shone and sent reflections across the walls of the old church where the Concert was being held. When he smiled it lit up the room with its deadly glow. It also shone on Silvia, sitting next to him quietly, observing her daughter, proud of her use of the Recoder, playing that song that I hand't heard the name of and no one could tell me what it sounded like.

Silvia had the presence that you just couldn't hide. She would walk into the room and the lights shone that bit brighter. Your eyes met and it felt as if she knew you, as if she was communicating with you from across the room. As if she was looking into your soul. You had to look away for fear of what she might see.

The parents applauded furiously at the end of the song. So did I. It seemed that everyone was really pleased that the well know recent hit had finished and they were showing their appreciation.

i don't know why I said "Bye". i don't know why i called him "Dad".

Any way a telephone ringing is one of those sounds that is impossible to ignore. I remember reading somewhere that people would interrupt anything to answer the phone, including sex.

I had never heard Marie like that. It was also the first time she had ever called me "Dad".

I threw on my clothes and made one phone call before rushing over. I called the police.

As I lock the door I noticed the lights on in thefront room. I'd turn them off soon. There was no one there to keep awake. The phone had not interrupted anything like sex for me. I wasn't even dreaming about it.

INTERIOR. EARLY MORNING. THE KITCHEN OF SMALL SUBURBAN HOUSE.
MARIE, lies on the floor, shivering in her night dress. It is torn around the collar. The drop of blood around her bottom lip has now pushed its way through the tiny opening and is sliding down her chin. It drips free flying through the air in slow motion. Marie watches it fall in slow motion. And then it splatters against her knee. The fabric of her night dress sucks it in hungrily.

She tries to move but it feels like her leg is broken. The pain is quite strong, but she does not cry. She barely feels it. Her eyes are heavy. She wants to sleep. Just needs a few hours and she'll be right. It'll all be over.

Through heavy lids she looks up and sees her mother, SILVIA fly across the room. She can't take her eyes off the vision. It's not graceful. Her mother is a graceful dancer and she notices that this is not graceful.

The arc of her flight reaches its apex and she returns to earth with an enormous thud. Her mother crashes into the table Marie is lying next to. A chair smashes from the impact of Silvia's body. Shards of wood explode across the room. One enters Silvia's shoulder and blood slowly gushes out. She looks across at her daughter and smiles. Her eyes close. Her face is battered and blue. The clean, symmetrical lines of her mother's face all shattered.

Silvia always had a beautiful body. Marie can see parts of it now. The red dress that once covered her shapely lines has been torn. She can see bruises across the bare skin.

Marie, in her state, can't remember how they both got here. How they both ended up under a table in the early morning of a day she can no longer remember. What happened.

A shadow appears in front of her. A large shadow that grows. It creeps up her leg, past the blood spot that fell earlier, up her torso until it blocks out the light. Marie hears a laugh from the shadow. She looks up. It is just a black shape, enveloped by the light. It speaks gently and softly reassuringly. Yet there is a sharp razor blade hidden in every word. It slices through the air. It slices through her heart. Someone will soon feast on the pieces.

Marie looks over at her mother. She lies still as if trying to hide. The dark shape crouches down. It can no longer obstuct the light and it reveals features that Marie would rather not see. It is Jesus Miguel Luis Rodriguez. A huge smile on his face. He licks his lips.

JESUS
Hello, my lovely.

MARIE
What have you done to my muffer?

JESUS
My poor child, can't you see, she's just sleeping. Now come to daddy.

SFX: EXTERIOR. THE SOUND OF A CAR'S TYRES SCREECHING TO A STOP. A CAR DOOR OPENS QUICKLY. FOOTSTEPS, AT FIRST SLOW, THEN RUNNING. SOMEONE AT THE DOOR KNOCKING, THEN TAPPING LOUDLY AT THE WINDOW.

will they ever go away? will they eventually stop, doctor? doctor? are you there, doctor, can you hear me?

She was a dancer. Amazing. You would watch her dance and you could see the music. There was the blare of the trumpet as she stamped her feet. She'd swoon across your chest and it felt like the cool caress of a Wynton Marsalis's trumpet. Her lips were soft like the a Miles Davis Collection. And whenever, we were together, my heart just beat like a drum.

Hey, well that was then. I don't talk about it anymore. Can't even mention her name. But I still see her music. I often see her in the dark. I saw her that evening as I was listening to the police radio. I saw her shadow slowly slide across the wall. I wanted to welcome her, to talk with her.

But I was distracted by a name on the radio. A name that had stolen her and taken her away. I never knew who she was looking for. In the end I just knew it wasn't me.

The name I heard mention was Jesus Miguel Luis Rodriguez.

I don't normally go out on nights like this as if it were sport. I just knew that something had happened that I had to go see. It was like I could see a car crash up ahead and I had to veer closer to take a look, to see if there were any survivors.

When all the world is a hopeless jumble, and the raindrops tumble all around, heaven opens a magic lane.
When all the clouds darken up the skyway,
there's a rainbow highway to be found,
leading from your window pane, to a place behind the sun,
just a step beyond the rain.

why is everyone smiling. why are they smiling. don't they know what happened that night. oh, no! i can hear the camera whirring. film rushing through the gate. 24 frames per second. that song.

INTERIOR. EARLY MORNING. THE KITCHEN OF A SMALL SUBURBAN HOUSE.
It is Silvia's house. Silvia is sprawled across the floor. She has not moved. Marie, is next to her. Her leg probably broken. Her body heaving with tears that are falling down her face uncontrollably.

SFX: THERE IS A LOUD RAPPING ON THE WINDOW
A man, LIONEL, stands at the window shouting, asking for someone to open the door. He is calling out someone's name. Marie cannot make out the name. She looks at the loud knocking. She sees Lionel. She hears what he is saying.

LIONEL
Marie! Marie! Open the door. Marie! Marie! Open the door.

OFF SCREEN IN LOUNGE ROOM JUST OFF KITCHEN
Marie hears the sound of a man laughing. It is JESUS. She moves herself, trying to get to the door. She pulls herself across the polished floorboards. A small stream of blood snakes its way behind her.

LIONEL
Good girl, Marie! You can do it.

Why doesn't he just smash a window, she thinks. Why doesn't he do what most men would do. Why doesn't he!

OFF SCREEN IN LOUNGE ROOM JUST OFF KITCHEN
The music starts to play. It is a song that is very familiar. Marie stops. She hasn't ever heard the words of this opening chorus. But the song is so familiar.

LIONEL
Marie! Don't stop. Keep going. Marie!

What is that goddam song? Why can't she recognise it?

LYRICS (from other room)
When all the world is a hopeless jumble, and the raindrops tumble all around, heaven opens a magic lane.
When all the clouds darken up the skyway,
there's a rainbow highway to be found,
leading from your window pane, to a place behind the sun,
just a step beyond the rain.

LIONEL
Marie! Don't stop. Keep going. Marie!

What is that goddam song? Why can't she recognise it?

There is a loud laugh just behind her. A big strong hand picks her up effortlessly, and pulls her back to her starting spot. It pulls her by her broken leg. The pain makes her scream.

LIONEL
Marie! Marie!

JESUS (leaning down over Marie)
What is it baby, don't you recognise this song? Oh, come on, you must. it's a classic. Everyone knows this song. Just wait for the chorus. Here it comes.

LYRICS (from other room)
Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true.

JESUS (leaning down over Marie)
Recognise it now, baby?

SFX: THERE IS THE CRASH OF GLASS.
A rock lands heavily on the floor and rolls up to Marie. He finally did it, she thinks. Why did it take so long?

LIONEL
(To Silvia who hasn't moved)Sorry about the glass, Silvia. I'll pay for it.
(To Jesus) You bastard, get away from her. I'll, ...

MARIE
No, Dadf, ...

Lionel has raced toward Jesus who has risen to his feet. Lionel swings a blow that hits Jesus on the shoulder. Jesus laughs. From below, Marie sees his pony tail bob up and down as the laughter continues. Jesus is enjoying this. He cocks his arm and then releases the trigger. His fist slams into Lionel's face. His nose is crushed. Blood spurts out in a rush to be free. It drips across the floor, red and filled with specs of bone. It entwines with Marie's own to form a slippery sludge.

JESUS
Come to save your little girl have you. She's not your little girl. She's mine.

Jesus's laughter has disappeared. He draws a knife from a holster at the back of his pants. It's a big knife. One you would not like to mess with. He holds it up high and poised over Lionel.

Lionel kicks out. His foot strikes Jesus on the shin. It is not this, but the mixture of blood the floor that makes Jesus tumble. His pants are covered in a film of blood. Marie notices the shining steel gun that is normally strapped to his ankle. The strap has come loose but Jesus has not noticed.

Jesus swings past Marie. He is filled with murderous rage. Bile that is about to spill over as it has done many times before. In an attempt to stop him Marie grabs him by the leg. Jesus, kicks her away violently throwing her across the room and crashing into a chair. He turns to Lionel, who is still clutching his nose.

JESUS
This knife has dealt with men far more worthy than you. Luckily for me it is not choosy who it deals with.

The knife is lifted high. Its shadow races across the wall. It is about to start it descent into mayhem. But, there is a loud explosion in the room from behind Jesus. The sound reverberates around the walls trying to find its escape. Jesus looks down at his chest. His face is in shock. There is a hole in his brand new DKNY Pullover. His blood is spurting out. He falls to the floor. The last thing he sees is the barrel of the gun he normally keeps strapped to his ankle. It is smoking peacefully and contented.

I could never figure out that song.

I enter to see Silvia dead on the floor. The place is a mess. Blood is splattered around the floor and sprayed across the walls of the room. The leg of a chair has embedded itself into Silvia's neck. I still recognise the woman that comes visit me on some lonely nights when I dare to dream.

The music that was playing reminded me so much of her. Her optimism and spirit. She was indestructible.

Her destroyer was lying next to her. The shocked look on his face was almost comical. He had never believed that it would end like this. Shot with his own gun. if only I could have seen it.

And the music played on. The sun was just starting to come up. It was bright and the rain over night was now glistening in the warm light. Lionel's nose was being attended to. I saw Marie. She was totally confused. Poor Kid. She didn't recognise me. Seeing your mother in that way. It has to do it to you.

Take it from me, in Rhumbaland things rarely have a fairy tale ending. They rarely resemble anything that you may have once heard of in a lullaby. I stepped outside and listened to the music. I just let the morning sun warm me.

Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high,
there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,
and the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true.

I heard the explosion. My mouth was bleeding. My head was throbbing. It felt like a bowling ball, hard, heavy and it was just bobbing all over the place. I couldn't hold it up.

But I heard the explosion.

At first I thought it was in my head. I thought he had hit me again. And then I felt that stringent smell sneak into my nostrils like an intruder. It crawled in and I tried to cough. I tried to squeeze it back out. I had no idea who had been shot. I looked out my swollen lids and saw the gun. I saw a small hand holding it.

The hand was trembling uncontrollably. I followed the arm up its length and saw my daughter's face, Marie.

Jesus was on the floor. Blood was spilling out into the room. His eyes still glowed with shock. Shock at having been hit.

In the distance I heard the Police siren wailing to announce its arrival. It would be here soon. The sun had now come up. I had to act quickly. In that instance, my head seemed crystal clear.

I crawled over to Marie. I looked in her eyes and saw nothing. It was as if some thin film of reality had been shattered and she was gone with it.

I took the gun. I wiped it clean. I wiped off her sweat from the handle. I wiped drips of blood from the tip of the barrel. I wiped her face. At that moment, she had no idea who I was, no idea.

I held the gun in my hand. I grasped it's cold shape and raised myself to my feet. I walked over to Jesus's body now and forever lying still and already starting to decay back to dust. I could smell where his bowels had given way and opened for the last time.

I lifted the gun, pointed at the body on the floor and pulled the trigger.

Then, there was just silence. And that song was still playing:

Someday, I'll wish upon a star
and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops,
that's where you'll find me.

he touched me. he had tried to take my top off and touch me. he put his lips to my face. i felt his tongue on my face. mum, don't he'll hurt you. don't hurt her. stop hitting her. no don't touch me there please. get away from me. no, mum. don't hurf her.donf huf her. i couldn't speak properly. i couldn't say what i wanted to say. i couldn't help her. i couldn't help her.

Bang. Bang. why were there two bangs?

And neither should there be.

Who could blame Lionel for shooting the guy. Purely self-defence said the Judge and the jury agreed.

The only thing I couldn't understand was why there were two shots. Why did he fire two shots? The first one had obviously killed Jesus. So, there he is. Jesus is lying on the floor. Not moving. Blood spilling out. Lionel gets up, takes three minutes to get close and then fires again.

Lionel said it was fear. He had been so scared that he just fired again.

Knowing Jesus, I think I would have fired twice as well, maybe even unloaded the entire gun into the prick.

But I wouldn't have waited some three minutes. Why the wait? I don't know. I can't figure it out and I don't think I or anyone else was very keen to find out. Let it go. It's all over.

I remember looking out over the garden on the morning it happened. As I have already mentioned, it was a gorgeous morning. Fresh, sun shining. Just beautiful. I stood below the tree and heard the birds chirping away as if everything was fine in the world. There they were just flying about without a care. They were in search of the tastiest worms for breakfast.

And then I saw it. It was a rainbow. It arched its way across the sky in a sign of wonder. I saluted it and set off for home and breakfast.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh, why can't I?
If all those little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow,
why, oh why, can't I?