From: waltoml@wkuvx1.bitnet
Newsgroups: alt.prose
Subject: The MacKenna Chronicals
Date: 19 Nov 92 01:28:41 CST
Organization: Western Kentucky University, Bowling Green, KY


	Please provide me some criticisms on the first of three novel
ideas that I've been circulating in my mind for some time.  I wrote
this three years ago...it is just coincidence that last month, a
student at a regional university died because of a breakup with a
"computer sex" mate. 

Thanks!
Settumanque!
Mike Walton  (WALTOML@WKUVX1.bitnet)

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                     The MacKenna Chronicals
                       by  Mike Walton
                     (c) Settummanque, 1989


 [    Based on a combination of personal emotions and experiences, 
it traces the last few days of Jacob Steven MacKenna, a young "black" 
man (actually of mixed racial heritage) whom takes his life after 
being rejected by a girl he met through the exchange of information 
on a computer.

     The novel begins at Jacob's funeral with a grisly but
understandable request...that his death be a matter of public
record to all..and that his casket remained closed.       ]
 

     "I don't want you to see me crying. Of course, I cannot
cry...I have no moisture to express that emotion with. But if I
could, I would be crying. I hurt. I hurt in ways that many of you
hurt when someone tells you that you cannot play with them; when
you mother or father tells you that you cannot go to see Styx or
Motley Crue; or when your friend tells you that he's got other
plans. I hurt. I hurt because I opened myself up to be hurt. I told
someone that I cared enough to love them. To want to be with them.
To feel that person next to me..." Jeff started to cry as he read
aloud those words...then he stopped. Frozen in his anger,
Jeff searched with his eyes for the woman in the black outfit at
the front of the room. "You bitch! You could have at least seen
him! You could have at least....." He was cut off by one of the
pallbearers, whom took Jeff forcefully back to the rear of the
chapel, but not before Jeff issued a challenge. 

     "You find me one person that hated this guy and I'll show you
a bigot! You bitch!"

     The church was buzzing with commotion as Jeff was escorted
roughly out of the chapel. Some of the older women, hearing the
stern words that Jeff spoke, rushed out after him. Others were just
talking between themselves. 

     Polliana Tolbert walked to the front of the room and waited
until most of the commotion was toned down. Then, with that soft
quiet voice of hers, she spoke to the assembled mourners. 

     "I share with you all your loss. I did not know Jake
personally. But," she added, looking at the papers on the floor,
"Jacob would have wanted us to understand why he left us. Please
let me read the rest of the statement to you because I think that
it was important to him...."

     Jake MacKenna was not a happy person. He looked happy because
he always carried a smile. He helped others all the time. He was a
friend to everyone whom needed one. A lover to the ones that wanted
such a relationship. And most of all, he was background for a lot
of romances...

     But he was not a happy person. Even at his death, he was not
happy. 



     The morning of his death was cool and crisp. A autumn day even
at this date, late November. Jake stepped out of the resident hall,
its twin towers staring him in his face as he looked up at his
room. He then readjusted his backpack and walked toward the arts
and humanities building. Jake's mind was not on his Philosophy
class...it was many miles away and replaying in his mind as if he
had recorded it on his video cassette recorder. 
     "I am glad to have finally meet you, Deidre." Jacob's smile
was genuine and was extending his nervous-laden hand to the young
lady he had previously shared many evenings with over a computer
link. This person knows his shoe size, his hat size, his pants and
shirt size. She knows what he likes, his tastes in music and
literature. 
     
     She also knew what turned him on. 

     Jacob was scared. He was waiting for one of "those phrases",
the words which would send him retreating. 

     Months of conversing at all hours of the night and day;
fantasies that were replayed out by both parties; and the wondering
what exactly the other person looked like--what they REALLY looked
like, not some drummed-up version, but the real image--all of it
came down to this moment. Jacob shuffled his feet as they looked at
each other. 

     "I like your hair."

     That was all that Jake could say at the moment. He was in awe
at this beautiful, if not plump, woman. Deidre looked all of 180
pounds, but it was evenly distributed among the five foot-eight
inch skeleton. Her brown hair framed her face nicely; her round
glasses made her look a little bookwormish but still attractive.
Her body included medium breasts....breasts that Jake noticed was
true to her word: uncaged.

     "Thanks." She paused. "What would you like to do??"

     "Whatever you like. I'm your guest." Jacob looked around the
campus center. 

     
     "Hey! Get your ass outta the road!!" Jacob woke back up. He
was almost hit by a car while walking across the street to the Arts
and Humanities Building. Jake shook his head as he again captured
the backpack and placed it again on his shoulder. He continued his
trek across the street. 

     Jacob did make it to class. But his mind was still on the
meeting with the woman in Georgia. He continued thinking about
it...and thinking about it....and getting angered at the minute. 

     Later that afternoon, he attempted to reach a girl that he
took to Georgia with, Carmen.  He tried her room, her computer
terminal, her "hangouts". She was nowhere to be seen. While he was
on the computer terminals at the Library, he noticed that he
received a mailing from Deidre...at first he ignored it.

     Then, as if he was working by remote control, he typed "read"
and read the only message in the mail account. Deidre's.

          Jacob:

          I wanted to apologize. I have never been in 
     that kind of situation. Never before have I wanted 
     someone like I want you. It's scary the way I wanted 
     you. But I didn't even give you a chance. You see, I
     envisioned someone that looked like Jacob. With the 
     brown wavy hair. The deep brown eyes. The warm hugs         
     and the kisses..oh those kisses...why did you          
     meet me?!?

          PLEASE...don't look at this as a brush-off; I DO 
     like you very much. I just don't want to see you. This 
     whole experience has wrecked what I thought I was all 
     about.  It is making me think about how I perceive myself.
     But, its not about you. Please...

          DeeDee

     

     Jacob took the chair he was sitting on and smashed the
terminal with it. Then, grabbing his bag, he quickly left the
building and ran toward the edge of the campus. He finally got hold
of Carmen....but she was "with company and can't talk long". 

     "Come on, man..get a life! you spend too much fuckin' time on
those computers...find a girl. screw her. She wasn't worth your
spit." Carmen's cruel but direct words hit Jake harder than the
letter he read. Carmen always had a way of telling Jake exactly
what she felt about things...after all, she is an English major. 

     "You don't know what we've shared. shit, I feel that we've
already went to bed several times." Jacob's voice was tense, as he
quickly looked around in the booth, looking for the campus police.
Or maybe some student whom chased him from the library's computer
lab room. He spoke at the receiver. "you don't know what the fuck
you're talking about, sister. this girl ain't no bimbo out for a
quickie. She wanted companionship, she wanted...."

     Carmen interrupted him. 

     "That's bullshit. She's looking for the lay. Only thing was,
she don't do niggies, friend."

     Jacob stood there silent. Carmen then added, "Hey..no offense,
huh??" 

     Jacob still stood there. 

     "Hey man. Whatcha gonna do. Are you going to kill yourself
about this bitch??" Carmen was trying to fend off her "guest" as
she was talking to the guy in the phone booth. Jake heard him
whisper "Hurry up and come back to the bed, woman!" to her ear and
the speaker.  

     "Yeah", MacKenna spoke. He then hung the phone up. 

     
     The campus newspaper wrote the story but the University of
Southern Kentucky quickly denied the article to be published. To
them, the suicide never took place. Things were as normal. Until
the letter reached the television station. It contained three
sentences:

          Jacob MacKenna, a college student majoring in           
         biology, is dead. He sliced every part of his 
          arms and legs and then stabbed himself and allowed      
    himself to die. If you want to see a real coverup in
          action, then come to USK and ask about him. 


     The real story begins at this point. 
     



     
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