Time to Try

Pennsylvania, United States.

The room was large, dark walled, large mahogany doors. The windows were large had you been

able to seen them, they were covered in thick maroon curtains with gold ropes to hold them back.

They were never held back, the only light in this room was artificial. The furniture was large and

made of either a dark oak or leather, the exception to this rule was the large rug which sat in

central position on the hard wood floor.

The room was, as you would imagine from this description, dark. The lights were dimmed to low

and a small fire burned in a large marble fire place over which a huge family portrait in a solid gold

frame hung, the picture included a small baby wrapped in blankets. Starring, Lyndon Kaller, the

world’s most normal baby! Anyone sat in this room would feel one of two things, a sense of extreme

power, or they would be nervous, they would understand the sole purpose of this room...

Intimidation.

Twenty Five year old Lyndon Kaller entered this room, forcing the heavy doors wide open without

hesitation. He never felt nervous when entering this room – even when he had one of the pretty

and underdressed house maids following him begging him not go in, his father did not wish to see

him. He rarely paid attention. He remembered back to a time when he had been small, he was

around six, maybe seven years old when he first remembered this room. It had scared the crap out

of him. He had come in here soon after his mother had died of an illness which had been ailing her

for months. She had been in charge of his upbringing, but she had gotten ill, and quickly her

physical health had deteriorated. Upon her death he had been called by his father to join the man in

this room. There had been no crying, just eerie silence. Not anymore, he had grown so used to it

now.

He closed the door, today there was no maid following him. “Father you called. “

“Indeed I did. Are you free?”

“You’d know if I wasn’t, you’d not be able to contact me.” The man said nothing to that comment,

instead nodded and indicated that his son should sit in one of the oversized leather chairs in front of

the huge oak landmass his father called a desk. Lyndon did as he was told, always. The thing which

intimidated people one step more than this room was the man behind the desk. He was in his late

50’s and greying, never a single hair out of place and not yet a sign of balding, his large belly sat

comfortably behind the desk and his face looked at you, dark eyes behind silver rims – a new

addition Lyndon still had to get used to. The man’s face was large, round and plump, his cheeks red

making him look permanently irritated. His hands sat one on top of the other on his desk, hands the

size of trucks. Hands capable of great damage. Worse yet, when this man chose to stand, as he did

the moment Lyndon sat in the chair, he towered a mighty 6 feet and 8 inches tall. Yes, that was

even when the man had started shrinking down to a half normal size.

Lyndon himself was only a mere five feet and six inches, when he stood on his tip toes

that was. His hair the colour his father had once be, a light brown, his eyes a green tinted blue –

from his mother, again from his mother were his stunning good looks. Unlike his father, Lyndon had

a baby face, yet one which was surprisingly handsome and one which he was rarely asked to

provide identification for, yet enough for people to believe his innocence. In comparison with his

father, he seemed as small as he did on that portrait, but far less helpless.

“So did you call me here for a reason? Or did you desire a small session where I sit here smiling

lovingly at my dearest daddy.”

The big man scoffed. “Fine, I shan’t let you settle in, let’s get on with this.”

Lyndon leaned back in the chair and sighed “Finally.”

“A woman came to see me today.”

“Nice, but you know you’re old enough to not have to tell your son about your nightly ordeals?”

“That is not what I meant and you know that.”

“Then who is she?”

“She wants to use your expertise.”

“And you did not give her my contact details?”

“It requires travel.”

Lyndon shifted in the chair. “To where?”

“London.”

This time a big sigh, anyone who knew Lyndon knew he hated London with a passion. England was

not so bad, he did not like England, but he could cope with it. He hated London.

“Wonderful.”

His father chuckled, not a happy chuckle. One of those that say words to you, and this one said ‘It’s

bad news.’

Lyndon waited, looking at his palm examining the nothing that was wrong with it. “I’m sending

Stephanie with you.”

At that moment, the world stopped spinning, no one moved, no one spoke, the fire dimmed to

nothing but ambers, a sudden cold draft raced through the room and the curtains blew. Lyndon

looked at his father with cold eyes. “What? Why?”

“I’m sending Stephanie with you because she will be able to help you, besides she needs a holiday

and I need her out from under my feet.”

“So you throw her under a train?”

“Don’t you dare.”

The smile said it all, which was the last of the conversation before the large man held open the

heavy mahogany door and Lyndon left the room closing the door behind him. He was back in the

long, plain hall way which he walked to get to his room. Yes. Lyndon Kaller, lives with his daddy,

because that’s hard core.

He climbed the wide carpeted steps to the upstairs of this massive house and took a left turn along

the landing, a right down another hall and to the end; he opened his door and was greeted by the

smell of everything he loved. This room was large, approximately the size of most people’s three

bedroom house, this was the case for most rooms in this place. The walls were painted saffron

yellow with hand painted pictures of various animals. The curtains were cream with yellow spots and

the carpet was a soft blue colour, and fluffy. Little had changed in this room since the day Lyndon

was born, other than the bed size and the clothing. He still had all his old children’s toys and though

a computer and Television had been added – along with some other things - this was his memory

of his mother.

He had turned down many offers for the room to be painted. It wouldn’t have been home. He

silently packed some clothes and accessories into his case and zipped it putting his laptop into its

bag he was ready to go within the hour of being told he was going. Stephanie was downstairs

waiting. “Lyndon sweetie, are you ready to go?”

He didn’t answer her only opened the front door and left putting his stuff into the car which sat on

the drive way. Most people took their cars, or they hired cabs to get to the airport. Lyndon’s father

was not most people, nor was he normal. As a result he had insisted that their private chauffeur was

to drive them to the airport. They travelled in almost silence. This being Stephanie tried to make

pointless conversation, Lyndon and the chauffeur both ignored her. As was the case for the airport,

and the plane ride he slept.