The Beckoning

I never called Derek, but I ran into him at the coffee shop the very next weekend. I purchased a coffee and joined him just outside the cafe. We sat at an uneven, squeaky wrought-iron table, and he informed me that he had been thinking of my dilemma all week and had come up with a brilliant idea.

He went through three hours and almost a full pack of Marlboro lights explaining his concept. The gist of it was this: write my happenings as fiction and distribute it on a mass scale. The government officials who hunted me would never seek answers in the newest fiction novel, but if the novel contained details that only my family were privileged to, then it would prove my authenticity and thus they would contact me.

Could this actually work? I guess we will find out as Nolen The Beckoning is just that. Derek also informed me that he had friends in publishing and marketing and had a few documents published himself. He was more than happy to walk me though each step. I could see the enthusiasm in his eyes.

As the night progressed, I explained more of the situation. Not every detail, but enough for him to insist I crash on the couch at his place and use his spare laptop to record my story as fast and as accurately as possible. To keep things from getting weird I made him agree that no matter what I wrote or how I explained things it was understood to be fiction.