Refuge (standard:other, 2551 words)
Author: Anonymous	Added: Dec 17 2004	Views/Reads: 2994/2165	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Ward Allen is a successful businessman with a troubled personal life. This story chronicles his search for refuge from his unhappiness and weariness with life.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

hatred, surveying the unflinching stares and the cold, artificial 
smiles of the ex-corporate heads with mounting dislike.  On a sudden 
impulse, Ward unexpectedly stood up from his chair and marched 
purposefully over to the nearest picture--a white haired man wearing a 
custom-made Italian suuit and a particularly irritating grin.  Bracing 
himself, he tried to pull the picture off the wall, but was 
disappointed to find that it was firmly attached.  Ward disgustedly 
turned away from the picture to avoid the mocking smile of the 
well-dressed man and instead directed his attention outside the tiny 
cell-sized window, which was partially obstructed by an immoveable 
artificial fern. 

A knocking on the office door interrupted his thoughts, and he swivelled
his chair aroung to face the intruder. 

"Come in," he commanded in a deep baritone. 

As the door slowly opened, Ward watched as a long, tanned leg entered
the room, follwed by the rest of a woman's shapely body.  He inhaled 
the woman's sweet, citrus scent as she approached his desk, and hept 
his gaze directed towards her blue eyes although he was aware of the 
gentle swaying motion of the woman's hips beneath her short skirt. 

"Mr. Allen," she addressed him in a breathy voice, "I have several
messages for you, as well as the notes from yesterday's board meeting 
and I've also arranged the times for your conference call to Japan next 
Wednesday." 

She paused and tossed her styled brown hair away from her face,
carefully watching her employer's eyes to see in what direction they 
might travel.  She continued in a slightly disappointed tone when she 
found Ward's eyes locked determinedly onto her own. 

"I've written down the number here of a contractor who wants to get in
touch with you." 

She bent down slightly lower than was necessary to hand her boss the
document and smiled invitingly. 

Ward kept his eye level on the sheet of paper she had handed him and
addressed his secretary coldly. 

"Thank you, Lila, that will be all." 

Lila straightened up, her winning smile faltering slightly, but remained
firmly in her place. 

"That will be all, Lila, you may go," repeated Ward in a firmer tone. 
His cold gray eyes lifted to pierce hers with an icy stare, but not 
before they rested briefly on her plunging neckline. 

Lila's beautiful sapphire eyes narrowed with triumph and she flounced
sway with unmistakable glee, turning to glance back at her employer 
with a seductive half-smile before closing the door gently behind her. 

Ward agitatedly rifled through the documents in his briefcase, cursing
himself for his weakening will and berating himself for allowing 
himself to be tempted in such a manner.  He shuffled his papers 
together though looking for nothing in particular and in his ruffled 
state, he unknowingly knocked over the small picture of his wife and 
son that fell hidden among the piled paper. 

The phone in his office rang loudly, but he chose to ignore it. 
Distractedly stirring his now ice-cold coffee, he listened to his 
recorded voice as the message machine answered the call with a whir and 
a beep. 

"Hello?  Warden?  I know you're there,"  insisted a shrill female voice
on the other line. 

"Pick up the phone and talk to me!" demanded the voice in a whiny tone. 

Without warning the voice suddenly broke into hysterical sobs. 

"Warden, I know you can hear me"...a sudden fit of unattractive choking
took hold of the speaker.  "Warden!  You should be ashamed that you 
won't even talk to your own wife when she calls you."  The voice 
cracked and broke into more sobs.  Suddenly, the voice began again and 
assumed a more malicious tone. 

"Oh, I'm sure you speak to that secretary of yours whenever she wants to
talk with you.  Don't think I don't know what's going on with you two," 
accused the voice, rising in pitch again.  "Just because..." 

The message ended abruptly as Ward calmly disconnected his telephone. 
Standing up from his chair and struggling to maintain his 
self-composure, Ward opened the door and exited the office building. 

*** 

Ward stalked down the busy city streets, completely absorbed in his own
thoughts.  He paid no heed to which direction he was going, only 
knowing the he had to get out of the living hell which his life had 
become.  He had no peace either in the office or at home and was lonely 
and bitter in his solitude.  He plunged through the now partially 
evaporated pubbles, darkened with dirt and pollution.  He tramped down 
the deserted alleys and busy streets without slackening his pace and 
finally encountered a deserted playground, an empty swing creaking 
mournfully as it gently blew on the breeze.  Ward approached the park 
as one would a sanctuary and slumped into the creaking swing, which 
groaned in protest under his heavy weight.  Resting his elbows on his 
knees, he covered his face with his hands, trying to forget. 

A sudden noise caused him to look up, and he noticed a young man leaning
against a nearby tree trunk, carefully observing him while 
systematically biting his nails.  The stranger was tall and thin with 
jet black hair that partially covered his face, thin lips and grap eyes 
that were similar to his own.  Tattoos and piercings covered his face 
and he wore all black.  The two men stared at each other for a long 
time without embarrassment, until Ward finally noticed with a start 
that this unusual looking stranger reminded him of an older version of 
his own son. 

Memories that he had been trying to forget washed over him again, and he
abruptly stood up to try and seek another place of refuge. 

He surveyed the surrounding area and his eyes fell on a dingy looking
donut shop that looked out of place among the surrounding businesses 
and restaurants.  In spite of the tacky neon sign with two of the 
letters missing and the grime-encrusted windowpanes, Ward felt an 
indescribable attraction to the place.  He approached the building with 
apprehension, but entered the shop with a soft tinkle of bells on the 
door to announce his arrival.  He glanced about the room, his sharp 
eyes catching the streaked wallpaper, the smudged counter tops, and the 
filthy glass case which contained tows of greasy donuts.  The sound of 
soft footsteps echoed from one of the back rooms and a plain-looking 
woman with straight brown hair came into sight.  A dirty, grease 
spotted aprong covered her small frame, while a crooked name tag on her 
chest read "Jain" in smeared black ink. 

She smiled with surprise to see a customer and invited him to sit down
at the counter with a friendly gesture. 

"What can I get for you, honey?"  she questioned with a charming smile. 

Ward's icy eyes began to defrost at this simple term of endearment, so
starved was he for affection.  For the first time in a long time, he 
smiled back. 

"I'll take one of those," he requested, pointing to one of the donuts in
the case at random. 

Smiling, Jain stooped to take out the requested item, and handed an oily
donut to her customer on a wrinkled napkin. 

"Sit," she offered a second time and pinted at the stool next to the
counter, at the same time taking her won place on a chair across from 
the one she had indicated. 

"How are you? Jain questioned sincerely, takin the opportunity to enjoy
some social interaction with the rare customer. 

Ward was pleased by her simple interest and told her briefly about his
work.  When be discovered, with some surprise, that she was hanging on 
his every word, he went into greater detail, and before long was 
relating to her his entire life story. 

He told Jain about the problems with his wife.  Once beautiful and
talented, Linda Allen had degenerated into an overweight, needy woman 
who did nothing but complain and criticize.  She lacked motivation, and 
was extremely jealous of every other woman that Ward had contact with.  
She suspected her husband of having an affair with his secretary, Lila, 
a relationship which was not so very far grom the truth, though Ward 
struggled to maintain a professional demeanor in the workplace. 

Ward told Jain about his young teenage son, who resented the fact that
his father never had time for him and was rebelling against authority 
in as many ways as he knew how. 

He related to her how he was overworked and always under constant
pressure from others to lead his company to prosperity. 

Once Ward had finished his narrative, he gazed down at his untouched
donut in meditative silence for several minutes, slightly embarrassed 
by his outpour of emotion. 

Jain watched his furrowed brow with a sympathetic expression in her dark
brown eyes without saying a word. 

Slowly, Ward stood up, and after fumbling around in his wallet, pulled
out a crisp new twenty dollar bill and laid it down on the counter next 
to the uneaten donut. 

Jain opened her mouth to protest, but Ward silenced her with a single
glance, his eyes rehardening. 

He walked away from the counter with his head bent and his eyes focused
on the dirty floor, and Jain's cheerfully automated response of, "Thank 
you!  Come again soon!" died on her lips.  Her eyes trailed the 
stooped, old figure as he left the shop and followed him until she 
couldn't see him anymore.  With a careless shrug of her shoulders, the 
plain-looking girl then began to wipe the counter top, awaiting the 
next customer who would be able to relieve her of her boredom. 

*** 

A cold persistent drizzle and billows of gray fog resulted in limited
visibility the next morning.  Tall building could scarcely be seen 
through the haze, and crowds of wraithlike figures holding umbrellas 
jostled each other to make it to work on time.  Shades of bleak grays 
were the only hues visible in the washed-out atmosphere, and the rain 
poured steadily down with no sign of slackening.  A strange homeless 
man in an oddly bright shirt had found refuge underneath a dumpster in 
a alley, and was very content as he amiably carried on several 
different conversations with himself. 

Ward Allen splashed through puddles on the ground as his feet took him
in the direction fo the subway station.  His eyes were the color of the 
stormclouds above but without the same sense of power of and strength.  
And as each of his robotic steps brought him closer to his predestined 
location, his eyes assumed an even more vacant and cow-like expression. 



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