Minnesota Undercover – A short story – Part One

Stone_Arch_Bridge_-_Minneapolis

Minnesota Undercover – Part One (of Ten)

Tim D. McConnaughy Jr.

 

 

“You can’t go that way,” he said.

The man was tall with black bushy hair and a five o’clock shadow that appeared to cover the bottom portion of his face. He was wearing a midnight blue sweater, light gray pants and dark colored loafers. He was yelling to a man running ahead of him.

The second man who appeared to be of Middle Eastern decent, was much shorter and faster. His bronze colored hair was partially concealed but he was wearing a little brown fedora with a pink feather. He had on long lightly colored khaki pants and a rainbow vertically striped shirt that appeared to look similar to a woman’s silk blouse.

Then things turned strange.

“It’s raining, it’s pouring the old man is snoring!” The bushy haired man began to sing. “We got our tickets, we got our tickets!” He sang with a sense of pride in his voice. The taller man had nearly caught up to the shorter man now.

Suddenly I watched as the shorter colorfully dressed man, abruptly stopped running, began to spin around 180 degrees and then proceeded to do a back-flip in the middle of the room. The man then picked up what looked to be a metallic designer-style briefcase that had apparently been laying on the floor nearby. Than as mysteriously as both men had appeared, they quickly vanished.

I knew something about this story wasn’t making sense and then it hit me, it must be a crazy dream. It was becoming difficult to tell what was real and what wasn’t. I decided to yell to see if I was awake. I tried to yell something out loud but nothing—no voice.

As if this already odd situation couldn’t get any stranger, it did.

Suddenly I began feeling cold……and wet, really wet. Rain? Yep, that must be it—it was raining and I was outside somewhere in the cold wet rain. But where was I and why couldn’t I speak? I wasn’t sure but what was clear was that the black pants I had been wearing were now beginning to stick to my legs and the blue pullover I had on appeared to be glued to my back. I was drenched.

Then I felt something wrapped around my neck. It must have been the strap from the bag I was intending to carry on the plane.

That’s it! Then I remembered, I was at the airport! Maybe things were going to start making sense again. My flight! I’m going to miss my flight! I tried to run but I couldn’t. I seemed to be stuck.

Then I heard what sounded like a man yelling.

“Keep going this way….” I heard the voice trail off for a moment……then it returned.

“They’re gonna end up in hell!”

Although I couldn’t see anyone, I heard another male voice further in the distance.

“C’mon, we gotta hurry!”

I wished the man would notice my predicament. This time I tried to scream, hoping to get someone’s—anyone’s attention. I opened my mouth to utter the word, help! I was certain my lips were moving but I still couldn’t hear my voice. Was I deaf? Couldn’t be, since I thought I had just heard a man yelling.

Then I heard a female voice close by. The voice was one of gentleness and sorrow yet she commanded authority.

“I’m sorry sir,” the women said, “but this ticket won’t get you to heaven. I am truly sorry.”

I heard a man respond, sounding agitated.

“There’s no way we’re going to hell, if hell doesn’t exist!”

This time I wanted to respond aloud. But what if it does? I thought.

Then I heard another male voice yell, “We got a fire here! There’s a fire!” he yelled.

At that moment what Jesus says concerning hell began to flood my thoughts. What if these people were not part of a dream at all? What if there was a fire and people were truly going to die?! I felt the need to warn them and tell them what God says.

 

 

 

Suddenly a surge of pain ran up my arm. It felt like my left arm was being ripped from its socket. Then I felt the surge of pain again—this time it was even stronger. The pain began to ricochet around my shoulder and back through my arm again. Just then my whole body felt like it had hit a concrete wall—and hard. I opened my eyes to see the leg of a chair next to my head. I seemed to be lying on the floor in a pool of water. Continue reading

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Minnesota Undercover – A short story – Part Two

 

Stone_Arch_Bridge_-_Minneapolis

Minnesota Undercover – Part Two

Tim D. McConnaughy Jr.

 

 

 

The gruff sounding cab driver was the first to respond.

“Uh, no… They’re saying the whole area is down. Both cities too…and probably others in the state.”

The gentleman seated in front of me seemed to agree.

“This had to be a major attack if both Minneapolis and St. Paul are out.” he added.

Our cab got into a long line of cars already entering the interstate. It was as if we were part of a funeral procession and the whole state had been invited. Once on the interstate we crept along for about a mile for what seemed like an hour and then I saw it as I looked out my right-side window. Off in the nearby distance, smoke and flames were shooting up from a large building ahead. I turned my head back to glance out the cab’s rear window. I caught a glimpse of the airport we just left. There were flames with black and gray smoke billowing from what appeared to be the airport’s main terminal. I saw police and news choppers darting around the moonless night sky. I quickly turned my head forward again toward the building we were approaching. This time I caught what looked like red and orange flames coming from the front.

Holy mackerel, I thought, is that the Mall of America?

Continue reading

Minnesota Undercover – A short story – Part One

Stone_Arch_Bridge_-_Minneapolis

Minnesota Undercover – Part One (of Ten)

Tim D. McConnaughy Jr.

 

 

“You can’t go that way,” he said.

The man was tall with black bushy hair and a five o’clock shadow that appeared to cover the bottom portion of his face. He was wearing a midnight blue sweater, light gray pants and dark colored loafers. He was yelling to a man running ahead of him.

The second man who appeared to be of Middle Eastern decent, was much shorter and faster. His bronze colored hair was partially concealed but he was wearing a little brown fedora with a pink feather. He had on long lightly colored khaki pants and a rainbow vertically striped shirt that appeared to look similar to a woman’s silk blouse.

Then things turned strange.

“It’s raining, it’s pouring the old man is snoring!” The bushy haired man began to sing. “We got our tickets, we got our tickets!” He sang with a sense of pride in his voice. The taller man had nearly caught up to the shorter man now.

Suddenly I watched as the shorter colorfully dressed man, abruptly stopped running, began to spin around 180 degrees and then proceeded to do a back-flip in the middle of the room. The man then picked up what looked to be a metallic designer-style briefcase that had apparently been laying on the floor nearby. Than as mysteriously as both men had appeared, they quickly vanished.

I knew something about this story wasn’t making sense and then it hit me, it must be a crazy dream. It was becoming difficult to tell what was real and what wasn’t. I decided to yell to see if I was awake. I tried to yell something out loud but nothing—no voice.

As if this already odd situation couldn’t get any stranger, it did.

Suddenly I began feeling cold……and wet, really wet. Rain? Yep, that must be it—it was raining and I was outside somewhere in the cold wet rain. But where was I and why couldn’t I speak? I wasn’t sure but what was clear was that the black pants I had been wearing were now beginning to stick to my legs and the blue pullover I had on appeared to be glued to my back. I was drenched.

Then I felt something wrapped around my neck. It must have been the strap from the bag I was intending to carry on the plane.

That’s it! Then I remembered, I was at the airport! Maybe things were going to start making sense again. My flight! I’m going to miss my flight! I tried to run but I couldn’t. I seemed to be stuck.

Then I heard what sounded like a man yelling.

“Keep going this way….” I heard the voice trail off for a moment……then it returned.

“They’re gonna end up in hell!”

Although I couldn’t see anyone, I heard another male voice further in the distance.

“C’mon, we gotta hurry!”

I wished the man would notice my predicament. This time I tried to scream, hoping to get someone’s—anyone’s attention. I opened my mouth to utter the word, help! I was certain my lips were moving but I still couldn’t hear my voice. Was I deaf? Couldn’t be, since I thought I had just heard a man yelling.

Then I heard a female voice close by. The voice was one of gentleness and sorrow yet she commanded authority.

“I’m sorry sir,” the women said, “but this ticket won’t get you to heaven. I am truly sorry.”

I heard a man respond, sounding agitated.

“There’s no way we’re going to hell, if hell doesn’t exist!”

This time I wanted to respond aloud. But what if it does? I thought.

Then I heard another male voice yell, “We got a fire here! There’s a fire!” he yelled.

At that moment what Jesus says concerning hell began to flood my thoughts. What if these people were not part of a dream at all? What if there was a fire and people were truly going to die?! I felt the need to warn them and tell them what God says.

 

 

 

Suddenly a surge of pain ran up my arm. It felt like my left arm was being ripped from its socket. Then I felt the surge of pain again—this time it was even stronger. The pain began to ricochet around my shoulder and back through my arm again. Just then my whole body felt like it had hit a concrete wall—and hard. I opened my eyes to see the leg of a chair next to my head. I seemed to be lying on the floor in a pool of water. Continue reading