The story after that first line

The Search


He knew it was going to be a rotten Monday as soon as they cut his head off. The hooded men left as quickly as they had barged into his apartment. They took their axe and the wooden basket that held his head and left without a word. Which was all as well as could be, Richard thought, at least they could have left my head. How am I to see to get around?

For the next hour Richard sat in the middle of his apartment thinking. Which was quite an accomplishment he figured, to be able to think with a brain. He could think, and he found with a little experimentation that he could even talk. His larynx was in his throat and by contracting and expanding it he could form words. Richard was finding that being headless was not as awful a handicap as he had first feared it might be when he had felt the metal cutting through the flesh of his neck. Still there were problems; everything was black, he was blind and where would he wear his hat?

So Richard decided he needed his head after all. How can I kiss Mom goodbye without lips, he asked himself. Somewhere in this building his head rested Richard was sure of it. Nobody would go out on the street with a head that did not belong to him, at least not wearing those ugly black hoods. That mean Richard had to find his head before the thieves changed their clothes and left the building with his head. He would never be able to track them down in the city.

Using his hands as eyes Richard began the hunt. It only took him twenty five minutes to find the door and leave his apartment. Sliding his hand up the wall he moved down the hallway.

His hand hit a doorknob and he tried it. It was locked so he continued down the hallway. Why would his head-nappers bother to lock their door? They surely would not expect him to follow them.

The next knob turned and opened. He pushed the door inward and entered. A feminine voice went “oh” and he heard a crash as something dropped and hit the floor.

“Forgive me,” he squeezed out of his dangling vocal tubes. “I'm looking for my head. You haven't seen it by chance, have you? Or two men dressed in black with hoods and an axe?”

The lady of the house, or apartment as this case may be, said nothing at first. She was dressed in her favorite manner, which meant undressed, and drinking her favorite drink, tea, when Richard had let himself in. The teacup she dropped in surprise had scalded her foot and she was busy wiping it up. When she finished she stood and spoke. “No, I haven't. And it wouldn't hurt if you knocked before barging into someone else's apartment. If you still had eyes you'd be seeing me in my All right now.”

Richard blushed, or is he would have if he still had a face with which to blush. “Excuse me, I'm sorry. I shan't trouble you farther.”

He turned to shuffle out when she called for him to stop. “Wait!”

“Yes?” He asked the darkness.

With a giggle she continued. “I never did it with a headless man before. A corpse once, but he had a head. Would you? I'm pretty good if I do say so myself.”

Richard thought for a minute. The head robbers would probably take time to eat lunch, so he had a few minutes he figured. “All right, but don't expect me to kiss you goodbye.”

Ten minutes later he was back at the door, ready to leave when she cried out after him. “The least you could do is give me a goodbye kiss. That's the problem with men. It's all in and out, no worries about the person you were in.” He left her to her shouts.

The next door he came to opened as he touched it. He entered, hoping it was not another woman. “Hello, young man.”

It was a woman, but from the sound of her voice, an old one. He turned to her and she spat in disguist. “Zip your pants up, youngster! How dare you expose yourself to me? I could be your Mother for all you know.”

He covered his private parts with his hands. How could he have forgotten? He zipped and cried out in pain. A few minutes later he was situated. He apologized to the old lady. I”m extremely sorry, ma'am. I didn't realize I was not properly dressed.”

“You should always check yourself before going out.”

“Yes, ma'am. Excuse me, ma'am, but have you seen my head? It has blond hair and blue eyes. Not a bad looking head, all things considered.”

“No, I haven't. You shouldn't leave things where you might loose them. In my day a young man would never lose his head. He always knew where he put it and would never forget it.”

“Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am.” Richard backed away as she continued to lecture.

The next two doors were locked, so he bypassed them. He tripped, his foot hitting the bottom step of the stairs leading upwards. He crawled up the stairs and began trying doors as soon as he was standing. The first door he tried opened.

Richard entered, wondering how he was hearing. He had no ears, how did sound reach him? Who knows? He shrugged his shoulders and called out. “Hello! Anyone home?”

The voice of an old man answered him from another room in the back. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Richard moved slowly, his hands groping the air in front of him. This was a strange room and he did not know how it was arranged. “Hello, sir. My name is Richard and I'm looking for my head. I wonder if you've seen it?”

The voice yelled at him. “NO! And you better get your butt outta here before I fill it with buckshot!”

Richard did as he was asked. Picking buckshot from his skin would only serve to make the day worse. If that was possible he thought. How worse could it be to lose your head and have to spend the day searching for it.

The next door opened as he approached it. A man about the same age as Richard stood in the doorway. “What are you selling?” He stood with his arms folded in front of him, a frown on his face.

Richard stopped. “I'm not selling anything. I'm merely looking for my head. I don't suppose you've seen it, have you?”

“No.” Richard continued around the man. This must be his day for rude people. “But you'd never find me losing my head.” And the door slammed shut.

Sure, act smug Richard thought. But don't come crawling to my door if you lose your head. The next door opened after a knock. The voice of a middle aged woman greeted him. “Yes, can I help you?”

At last a civil person. “Have you seen a spare head lately, ma'am. I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“No, I'm afraid not. I was just looking for my watch though. If you happen to see it on your search would you be so kind as to return it.”

“Of course, of course. Thank you for your time, ma'am.” Richard left. The next three doors were locked. The fourth opened.

“Come in, Richard.” The voice was neither young nor old, male or feminine. He could not picture anything about the speaker who seemed to know him.

“You know me?” He felt the back of a chair and decided to sit.

“Of course I do. I also know about your search.”

Excitement brought him up from the chair. “You know where my head is!”

“I didn't say that.” Richard dropped back into the chair. Don't hope too much he told himself.

“Your head is not important. You put too much stock in one part of your body. Would you be as upset if it was your arm or leg that was missing? I doubt it. So you're missing your head. It's not the end of the world. Pick up and begin your life anew. Headless or not, you are capable of great things. Do them.”

Richard sat in the chair, waiting for the voice to continue. After awhile he realized that it was not going to, whoever the speaker was s/he was gone. Richard sighed and stood. The speaker had made sense he had to admit. “But how can I wear my hat?”

Wearily Richard moved on to the next door.