A Whistle in the Dark

Dewald Rupping

Description

The world is confusing, isn’t it? Definitely no walk in the park.
This rings particularly true for protagonist Curtis Miller - mildmannered
realist and introvert. Curtis has had many views of
the ever-churning fire that is our world - but the challenges,
injustices and hypocrisies of the modern flame he has yet
to decipher.
As he faces many fronts he never imagined he would, Curtis
soon discovers that logic, reason and justice seem to have
an ever-diminishing habitat in modern society.
This is his story. This is his reality.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Humor
• Suspenso
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse UK
• Date de parution: 12 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781728379890
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

A WHISTLE IN THE DARK
 
 
 
 
 
Dewald Rupping
 
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK)
UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 ([phone] from outside the UK)
 
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Dewald Rupping. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 03/09/2023
 
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7988-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7989-0 (e)
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Preface
 
PART 1
 
Prologue
 
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
 
PART 2
 
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
 
Part 3
 
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
 
Part 4
 
Epilogue
 
About The Author
PREFACE
The idiomatic expression “to whistle in the dark” has many different meanings according to diverse sources. It could mean to make a show of bravery despite one’s fears, or to speak of something despite having little or no knowledge of it. If someone is whistling in the dark, it could also mean they believe in a positive result, even though the general consensus is the absolute opposite.
Though all the above are in some way relevant, the definition appropriate and that should be taken into consideration in the reading of this book is the following: “Pretending to feel confident about a situation when in fact you feel nervous or worried” – Macmillan English Dictionary, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2002.
 
Any actual names or likenesses are purely coincidental and do not represent the character of a real human being. It is emphasized that any and all existing persons and localities that are mentioned are solely for fictional purposes, and the content of this book does not necessarily portray any semblance of the relevant cities, counties, countries or individuals.
 
This book is for my family,
my friends,
and my teachers,
whom helped shape my past,
my present,
and my future for the better.
 
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality.
- Freddie Mercury
 
What’s in a minute? Sixty seconds; and in an hour, sixty times that. But the truest clock,
only ever showing fifty-nine,
is perfect only in its imperfection.
PART 1
PROLOGUE
It was around the close of the century when a young doctor had a challenging decision to make - naturally, one of life and death. His name was Curtis Mathew Miller, and while bearing in mind his Hippocratic Oath, he weighed the plethora of pros and cons of euthanasia on his mind. Miller’s heart wanted action, but his conscience forced him to reason.
With his newborn son on his lap, the young doctor jotted down scraps of his thinking onto the tawny pages of his personal journal. He wrote of baby Michael of and his bedridden, severely brain-injured wife that had fallen victim of a street bludgeoning. Even in her condition her beauty had been unmistakable.
A blonde nurse stared intensely at the side of Dr. Miller’s face. Her nametag gleamed with the letters ‘Jocelyn, D.’ etched into the smooth metal. Even in this unpleasant business she was the doctor’s right hand, and he trusted her with his son’s life. She asked him for the umpteenth time if he was sure about his decision. “We could get in serious trouble for this – it is wrong, to say the least,” she said. They were at his wife’s bedside.
Dr. Miller did not speak initially, but after a while he said: “I’m not sure, no.” Jocelyn took his arm lightly then and told him that there was always the chance of a miracle, but that if it would ease his conscience, the odds of it were very low.
He shook his head in pain, squinting to fight back the tears.
The nurse nodded. “I share your distaste towards suffering.”
Then there was silence.
By late afternoon Dr. Miller had changed and made up his mind countless times, and though he still wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, he kissed his baby boy goodnight, went to the hospital and in his office prepared himself. Having in hand a syringe filled with a clear fluid, the doctor rounded up Jocelyn and together they went to the room of Marilyn Miller (nee Mendel). The door was locked behind them.
Dr. Miller moved his unwilling, quivering arm in the direction of drip. He hooked the tube leading down into the patient’s arm so that it dangled from his forefinger; then held it steady between his thumb and pinky. “Go ahead,” urged the blonde.
He nodded. He faced the patient again; the syringe still clasped in his left hand. He caressed his wife’s caked brown locks. He breathed softly that he couldn’t do it and then sniffled once. “I … I can’t.”
Dr. Miller didn’t react immediately when there was a sharp and uncomfortably stabbing pain in his back. As if somehow his brain had to first comprehend the occurrence, and then react. As if all natural instinct had left him... He then slowly fell to the floor, and it wasn’t long until he was unconscious. The nurse yanked the tranquilizer from his back and whispered into Miller’s ears: “I’m sorry, Curtis. But I’m doing this for your own good. You have to believe me.”
The doctor woke up at noon the next day, and in his mind-muddled state he was thrown into the business end of a police transport van. His hands were cuffed - and so was his tongue. Despite trying desperately to utter a word - any word - he was unable to get it out. The next thing he knew he was within the confines of a courtroom, the inside of which he saw afterwards for about a month. The case persisted and ultimately his sentence was uttered. Twenty-five years based on circumstantial evidence that connected him with six alleged murders and two illegal performances of euthanasia, none of which he was actually guilty of.
Dr. Miller’s fate was a tragedy worth trapping in an oil painting, and it had been framed flawlessly.
Dr. Miller had decided long before this point to arrange for his close friend, Henry, to take in his son in the event of something going awry with his initial plan. A godfather position - and Henry was not opposed to it, so he accepted the vacancy. They had had an in-depth discussion about the matter and had made it official by law, all without Miller letting slip a single particular detail. Henry had promised to do exactly as agreed upon, and so he did for the next nineteen years.
CHAPTER 1
What is up, and what is down? In a world so confusing as it is today, it’s easy to lose track of right and wrong, up and down, just and unjust. It just seems that nothing is simple anymore, am I right? Well, as much as I would like to now come up with some inspiring ‘but’-statement to contradict the topsy-turvy-ty of our world, unfortunately I cannot. I don’t have one. There might not even be one. All I can say is buckle up: chances are it might not get better; it may just as well get worse. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not being a pessimist: I used to be as much of an optimist as you can find. But lately, I have been inadvertently converted to a new perspective: realism. A stone-cold philosophy - let’s call it my attempt to represent subject matter truthfully. It’s no major change: I just see things for what they really are. No made up nonsense, no unrealistic expectations; fewer disappointments.
My name is Michael Kent, and this is my story. By all means, welcome to my reality.
I suppose every story needs a good place to start. For me, that’s just before things started falling apart at a preposterous but somehow comical rate. It was the year 2019, summer, and to paraphrase a renowned saying, the world never did give anyone hell. It just told us the truth and we thought it was hell . As your run-of-the-mill Average Joe (most average as they come), I lived in an average neighbourhood, went to an average school and led an average life. My parents were my only close relatives of whom I had knowledge, but we didn’t really get along very well. Back then it was easy for me to whine about any little thing that didn’t go my way. Yes, I was a brat at this point. But don’t judge just yet, I would come to learn the error of my ways before long.
This story starts like so many before it