#3: Linda McKibben

| November 3, 2010 | 0 Comments

My entry #3 is Linda McKibben, wife to yesterday’s entry, Rusty Palmer. Yes, she kept her own name. Enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Rusty —

I apologize for the rather dramatic display you’ve probably just stumbled into. Hanging is melodramatic, I know, but maybe it’ll be enough to jump start your life again.

Please, don’t take my leaving as any sort of fault of your own. In fact, I’ve had the thought of doing it myself before we even got married. It’s hard for people to realize that I accomplished all of the goals I established for myself before I was 30. There was a satisfaction to that, sure, but then what? What’s left? New goals would seem logical, but when your town is utopian and you lose your biggest accomplishment has become moot, what have you got?

For these last few years, I’ve watched you clock out and go and sit in that diner on 5th. And for these last few years, you’ve asked me, night after night, to join you. But I never have. Instead, I’ve wandered the streets, waiting for something to just jump out at me. Attack me, frighten me, rob me, anything. Nothing ever changes, and I wind up safe and sound in our bed. I haven’t unholstered my weapon in five years.

When I left Indiana I felt like I was walking towards the horizon that I always thought was out of my reach. Coming to this town, ranking hard and fast in the FPD… I wasn’t the ambitious little nerd from podunk anymore. I was respected for my drive, willpower, and ability. My intellect. You see these movies about mentally challenged kids that these Hollywood clowns win Oscars for, but no one bothers to show the struggle of the smart kids? More specifically, a smart kid with tits?

Ever since this place cleaned up, I’ve lost all of that. The rooks don’t come to me with questions anymore. There’s no murders to solve or suspects to question. I feel like I’m all grown up but I’m back in podunk on the porch at my step-father’s house. Waiting, dreaming.

Well, I’ve finally found that next horizon. The next big challenge to tackle. Because guess what, Rusty? Whether you’ll accept it or not, something has happened to this place. I’ve covered every inch of this city for years in search of an answer. The only logical conclusion I can come to is that I — we — did our job.  We succeeded. But when Columbus “found” the Americas, what did he do? He destroyed what was already there.

I love you, Rusty. I hope you can find your next purpose, just as I’ve found mine.


Category: Drama, Scifi

About the Author ()

Joey is a writer and hoarder of nerd things from New England, currently living existence outside of New York City. He often attends rhythmic ceremonial rituals and gambles away his hard earned money. Currently he’s working on his first novel while creating comics and developing the social writing website Social Pulp, which will be going live by the end of the year. He also serves as the Comics Channel Editor for the major pop culture website CraveOnline. You can find him on Twitter, or e-mail him a lengthy diatribe voicing your utter disgust.

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