This is a short story born out of an old favorite writing exercise I post to a reading and writing group I started on Facebook called ���The Erudite.��� Big thanks to Danielle Goddard, Sam Reeves, Anita Bernard, Lynn Martin, Maureen Indelicato, Jeanie Smith, and Marilyn Baptiste for their talents and hard work.    As usual, he sat alone at the table in the back with a cup of cold, black coffee and a nearly burned up cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers.
He was lost in thought and unaware of who just strolled through the door.
It was a woman, whispering, chanting, "I don't know him."...
 The squat, disheveled man wearing a colorful ensemble reminiscent of a 1940���s clown suit walked divisively up to Jerard���s table.
He looked up and smiled that crooked smile of his and knew he was going to have a good day from this point on.
Although he nearly burned his fingers, he stared intently at an eerie shadow to his left.
  Familiar yet unknown at the same time, the shadow vexed him to his core.
Suddenly, a curious green light appeared to the right side of the shadow, quietly and piercing. The clown learned down, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, whispered to Jerard, then stood up, laughed and walked away.
 The building shook a moment before the sound wave shuddered through the neighborhood, clouds of debris reined down outside the storefront windows.
People were coming out of their houses to try and determine what had just taken place on this unusually quiet street.
As the clouds of mysterious matter cleared, the sudden pulsating groaning was apparent to those in the neighborhood.
 "Get out"' someone shouted, as the groaning sound grew louder as buildings, as if in slow motion, began to lean and melt into the street.
They started to come out of the crumbling building as the sound increased.
Almost deafening to the human ears, this noise could be heard for miles.
Jerard stepped through the crooked door kicking bricks, shards of glass, his eyes searching the destruction, as the wailing sirens of rescue vehicles grew louder and louder.
 Jerard knew it was only a matter of time before its full wrath would be upon them.
 With his heart pounding and gasping for breaths of clean air he made his way to another building where he thought he would find assistance.
The glass edifice seemed undisturbed as he stepped into the large atrium entrance.
 Ashe stepped gingerly, he could hear the crackling of glass all around him and knew his next step could very well be is last. He gasped at the sight of an image made of glass, walking slow and steady toward him.
As the glistening image came closer, he realized it was her.
Still dazed and confused himself, he had a million questions for her. Ashe realized who it was, he dropped to the ground in disbelief, trembling.
 She tossed her long red hair, "What the bloody hell are you doing?"
 She walked toward him, slowly and carefully, and kneeled down beside him and whispered, "My purpose for being here will be revealed soon." Jerard still in a state of amazement and confusion, could only utter, "Why me?" She smiled and said, "guess you're just lucky." As he was coming to, Jerard noticed something very interesting lying on the floor next to him and he was trying to remember who it was that clobbered him over the head. Two large men in white uniforms picked him up and slammed him onto a gurney and quickly wheeled him to an unmarked van. What those two monsters didn't realize was before they could pick him up he grabbed the key that was on the floor. He fought as they tried to strap him down, slipping the key into his shoe he relaxed and let them strap him in as the gurney rolled around the back of the van. So many questions needed to be answered, but the two most important things Jerard to know were the identity of these men and why did they want him. Jerard thought, "What on earth would they want with a member of the State Senate out here?" More questions kept plaguing Jerard's mind as he laid there waiting; but waiting on what? Special Agent Dietricks looked at his notes, nobody seemed to know exactly what happened. S.A. Dietricks may not have known what really happened but there wasno way he was going to let Jerard know that. Special agent Dietricks walked intothe room where Jerard was being held knowing full well he will have aridiculous amount of questions to answer. As the door opened a smile on Jerards face spread from a twinkle in his eyes to his teeth showing; "royal screw-up Deets."His laughter echoed out the open door reverberating against the walls, his injured side ached, the laughter continued. Jerards eyes opened slowly, gunky and blurred vision as he slowly focused on the painting across from him, smiling he closed his eyes; he was home in his bed dreaming, freaky, mind-blowing dreams.