Read The Three Fates of Henrik Nordmark: A Novel for Free Online Page A

as the hour approached midnight. Two women passed him on their way to a local dance club, one of whom bore a striking resemblance to a young lady Henrik had stood beside in a grocery store lineup last week. Pink sunglasses, flowing blond hair, diamonds beaming from her fingers, neck and navel — that other woman had been holding a basket filled with cosmetic supplies and a four-pack of single-roll toilet paper. Henrik had waddled up next to her carrying a Costco-sized pack of forty-eight industrial-strength double-ply extra-fortified toilet rolls. The pretty young girl in line glanced at Henrik out of the corner of her eye. The glance lasted for the briefest of moments, a miniscule blip on the timeline of human history, but long enough to convey to Henrik the omnipresent, relentless truth — that this woman thought he was a monster who does nothing but sit on a porcelain bowl, magazine in hand, and poop all day and night long.
    This woman and her friend were dressed to the nines with wild hair, sultry makeup and plentiful exposed cleavage. Henrik imagined what it would be like to kiss one or maybe even both of these women — how their wet tongues would taste like cherries and pink marshmallows. He leered brazenly at their breasts and felt himself ridiculous for doing so. Henrik pictured a painful, demoralizing scene in a discotheque in which he would approach these fine young women and ask them to dance . . . only to be ridiculed, or worse — ignored. Yes , Henrik decided, that is exactly what these women would do. They would ignore me. So I will ignore them. Henrik turned his eyes away from their supple bosoms. For a second or two as they passed, Henrik felt morally superior. Their exposed cleavage would not control him. He was no Pavlovian dog.
    In the end, Henrik’s moral outrage was all for naught. The women didn’t even notice him staring the other way. They were too busy texting on their cell phones to even look up.
    He passed an all-night internet café when suddenly inspiration struck. Henrik was only boring to the rest of the world because they could see him. They could sense from his outward physical appearance, from the way he carried himself and from the smell of discount laundry detergent in his clothes that he wasn’t worthy of their interest. But in the virtual world there were no such concerns. Virtual communication was purely intellectual. Perhaps in this abstract realm, Henrik could shine in the way he’d always dreamt of shining. Henrik entered the café, paid for an hour’s worth of internet time and then sat down at the nearest computer. He stared at the open Internet Explorer window in front of him. The default Google page had a text box with a slow, repetitively flashing cursor. At first, Henrik didn’t know what to type. So he entered the words “chat room” and 54,900,000 sites returned. Undaunted, Henrik began scrolling through them. After nearly entering a chat room dedicated to the drastic alterations North Korea had made to Anne Frank’s diary, he stumbled across a room where people met online to discuss the singer and poet Jewel. Henrik had actually heard one of her songs on the radio. It was pretty good. She wasn’t quite the wordsmith Ronnie James Dio had been in his prime — but then again, who was?
    Henrik entered the chat room, signed in with his real name and typed the words “I am obsessed with Jewel.” There were only two other members currently chatting. Neither of them acknowledged Henrik. He tried again.
Henrik Nordmark — I am obsessed with Jewel
Sassycat8 — Did you see her on David Letterman last week?
Atc_Xtreme — yes, I did. She looked beautiful, snaggle tooth and all
Sassycat8 — have you ever seen her live in concert?
Henrik Nordmark — I saw Black Sabbath play a concert in 1981
Atc_Xtreme — really? Ozzy Osbourne rocks !!!!!
Henrik Nordmark — who’s Ozzy Osbourne?
Atc_Xtreme — he’s the singer for Black Sabbath
Henrik Nordmark — No, Ronnie James