d o n o t d i s t u r b .

Maverick Monroe could only laugh in a hushed tone to himself as he cradled his head in his hand; with closed eyes he began to rub his eyebrows as if a migraine had just engulfed him, he knew it was not the physical pain, rather the unmistakable monotonous tone and repetitive lyrics of a nightmarish song being sung by a familiar face that currently had his head in a handbasket.

“Undoubtely you must see the convenience of your...” Dr. Slokemin paused.

“Unusual circumstances you are currently facing, given our last session; you were processing a death in your life and by your own admission admitted to spiraling out of control; now here we are talking about you... what? living the same day over and over? Life is not a Bill Murray film, Maverick, at some point you have to deal with your grief, it is a difficult process we all must face in our lives” He said with an optimistic tone.

Maverick Stood and began to slowly pace around the office.

“We've had this conversation, Doc, the only reason I'm here is for a possible explanation of how this is even possible, we've discussed numerology, occult history, symbolism, philosophy, you’ve had me arrested and sent to the psych ward many times and I have murdered you right where you stand, do you understand the gravity now, Slokemin?”

Maverick said this last line with a cold and methodical tone, he continued...

“We are beyond consequences at this point, so do us both a favor and take off your PhD psychological introspection bullcrap hat, and throw on your this is actually happening cap, Doc, fore' this isn't our first dance and we are getting closer to the muse where the music is playing”

Dr. Slokemin leaned back, steeped his hands together and began tapping his fingers.

“Okay, Mav... Explain it again, spare no details”

Maverick stopped walking and gave Dr. Slokemin an incredulous look.

“Ok, first, never say Mav again... what the hell, Doc?”

Dr. Slokemin had a small smile on his face as he put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Please, continue” He said.

Maverick began marching again.

“Ok, every day I wake up the date is March 12th" Maverick's voice was now heightened.

“Two items always appear; a little black notebook with six words written inside and a white square box with exactly twenty thousand dollars. I have attempted many methods of destruction for these two items as well as myself in this process, Doc, yet I remain trapped in this nightmarish reality in which there seems no escape” Maverick then reached inside his pocket, pulled out the two objects and slammed them on the surface of the red table in front of Dr. Slokemin. *CLANK*

An odd-looking man in a blue suede hat flicked his vanta-black lighter with a snap; he inhaled the cigarette deeply as he lit it then glanced up at the tall building. He made a nimble move with his wrist and the lighter made a “clack” sound as it closed; there was no reason in particular for such a move... mostly, he just thought it was cool; Not that anyone would could notice, after all, he was a man used to not being seen by many; but that was about to change.

Maverick sat down in a booth at the “Delight Diner Ran by Diane” I know... but I assure you that is in fact the real name she chose for this fine establishment that has been around as long as this town itself.

“What do you want” The elderly waitress said in a raspy and clearly annoyed tone.

“Steak cooked rare, dear Diane, and hows bout four scrambled eggs, ten strips of bacon and one cup of hot coffee, black.” Maverick said with a sardonic tone.

“The coffee will be warm at best” She said as she turned to the kitchen slowly.

Maverick glimpsed at his reflection staring back at him from the glossy surface of the ruby red table-top that seemed out of place and alien for the centenarian atmosphere.

The woman sat down without looking at him.

“What is it, Maverick?” She asked in a stern tone with the look of exhaust written on her features.

“Look, I’m not even going to attempt to explain, so all you need to know is that I didn’t do anything illegal to get this money and I want you to have it”

Maverick reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket, pulled out a white envelope and placed it on the table. He then slid it across to her.

“Look inside” He said with a hushed tone that only she could hear.

“Oh, Good heavens, Maverick, this isn't a mafia movie” She quipped.

She opened the top of the envelope then quickly placed it under the table out of view of the few customers that were enjoying their meals unaware of the true reality that lurks beneath the surface of their own futile existence.

“It’s okay, Sis, take it, it’s all yours, look I know I haven't been the best brother; what matters is only now, only this day, you understand?!, take the money, look, I don’t know if...” Maverick slowly turned away from his sister's gaze looking deep into him. “I’m losing my mind” He finished.

The man in the blue suede hat strolled across the street with a whimsical skip in his step as he approached the oddly ironic named diner.

*DING DING* the old rusted bell chimed as the door opened.

Maverick eyes widened! He sprung up from the booth which caused the salt and pepper shakers to dance on the ruby red surface; a look of confusion in his eyes.

“Maverick, What's wrong?! What’s going on?” Her confident voice now crumbling with concern.

*DING DING* The rusty bell rang out for a second *DING DING* then a third time.

Dr. Slokemin was startled by the sudden move, his body briefly twitching like an audience member reacting to a jump scare in an unoriginal horror film. He quickly composed himself and looked curiously at the two items on the desk, a peculiar looking black notebook, and a white envelope with hundred-dollar bills spilling out of the top preventing it from being sealed closed. He picked up the black notebook and studied its smooth glassy surface, he did not seem to notice that his own reflection was not being mirrored back. He opened the cover carefully, read then re-read the six strange words that were written by a strange red ink.

“What do you think it means?” Dr. Slokemin asked with a concerened look.

“As best as I can figure it's almost like a riddle of sorts, perhaps part of an unfinished parable of some kind, I can't quite figure it out, Doc, I'm still just as perplexed about those words as you are reading them for the first time” Maverick said as he slid back into his chair comfortably.

“And the strange red ink?”

“Dried blood is my hypothesis, but from whom or what I do not know”

Maverick ran out of the diner nearly knocking down poor Diane in the process, luckily, the lady was way too experienced to ever waste a plate of good food.

She set the plates on the table with a bored expression on her face.

“Somebody's still got to pay for this, you know”

Maverick Monroe was now running down the sidewalks of the calm community known as Conundrum Cove.

He was breathing heavy, his heart seemed to be beating right out of his chest, his head began to ring and his legs were on fire, still, he kept moving; his eyes darting in every direction for the odd-looking man he had seen wearing a blue hat. A face he has never encountered before in this strange hellish cycle that was now his life, he was not about to lose this opportunity to finally find answers due to his own weak lungs from the years of abuse; the pain he felt as each step hit the pavement was like fire shooting through his every vein.

Melissa Monroe waited anxiously in the small office lobby; her legs bouncing as she glanced at her phone once again... nothing. A pleasant voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Ms. Monroe, Dr. Slokmin can see you now, go ahead in, Hun” The cheery receptionist said with a southern twang.

Dr. Slokmin greeted her as she stepped into his office.

“Please, have a seat” He said pleasantly.

She sat down and placed her phone on the table.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, I wanted to talk to you about my brother, I’m concerned about him, I haven't seen him since the funeral. Then, out of no where he called, we met, then he just... I don’t know exactly, there was a look in his eyes, void, wild, hard to say, it just really...” Melissa's voice began to crack as she continued... “He scared me”.

“Ms. Monroe” Dr. Slokmin said calmly.

“Call me Melissa” She interrupted.

“Very well then, Melissa, without violating any confidentiality, I can say with sincere certainty that your brother is not well mentally” Dr. Slokmin said this with a bluntness that surprised even himself.

Maverick was now walking at a swift pace; his hands resting atop his head as he stopped to catch his breath; he had to think clearly. He was certain he seen him. 'I'm not crazy' He said to nobody. The sun began to set in the distance, the contrast of the skyline divided by orange and yellow glowing hues as dark black silhouettes of tall bare trees cast shadows upon the twilight. He observed the familiar faces in the park, some were walking their dogs, most had headphones; unaware that their mere existence was the bane in his, ignorance is bliss. Finally, he noticed it, the blue suede hat... the odd-looking man, those dark dead eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. He felt slightly paniced, he slowly began walking towards the mysterious stranger as if he were being drawn by a siren.

The odd-looking man in the blue suede hat put a long, mangled finger to his lips. Shhh. He then welcomed Maverick with a gesture to sit.

Maverick walked cautiously to the man, his heart still racing, he steeled his nerve and finally sat beside the mysterious odd-looking man; then, they both simply listened to the silence together.

He reached inside his pocket pulling out the little black notebook. The odd-looking man snatched it from him and opened it cautiously, He held up his finger displaying the jagged fingernail then began digging into his own flesh producing a dark red fluid. Maverick turned in horror, he could hear the odd scratching noises grow louder still. Suddenly, the odd-looking man jilted his head with an unnatural speed and whispered a message in his ear.

The odd-looking man wearing the blue suede hat had vanished, leaving only the notebook and his long thin finger behind as darkness now consumed the night; Maverick gazed at the little black notebook, the little black notebook seemed to gaze back at him; perhaps Nietzsche was correct after all he thought. He slowly opened it to the first blank page and using the sharpened crimson fingernail of the mysterious beings' finger, He wrote the six words that had been whispered.

He balanced himself on the ledge along the roof-top of the familiar tall building; a faint gust of the biting cold wind upon his face as he observed the world below, people always seemed so small and insignificant when viewed from on high he mused. He closed his eyes, spread both his arms out wide and for the first time that he could remember; he finally allowed himself a genuine smile... For the man with the secret spoke...

Now it was time for the first step of Mr. Maverick Monroe.