Meanwhile...

The Night Crashed Down

2011-07-17T22:28:00.000-07:00

The night seemed to crash down around the small truck once Roger passed the main gate and began the long assentation to the main house. The trees pushed in around the road on both sides and their leaves blocked out what little light the moon provided. He flicked the high beams into play and pressed on in the little Toyota. A shiver ran down his spine. He dreaded this run.

The trees stopped about a block away from the house. The area around the building was devoid of plant life save a few low shrubs and dead grass. Roger was sure that if the house was within the town limits, there would have been some sort of letter writing campaign to have the hulking things torn down. But, it wasn’t the house that gave him the chills. No, it was the house occupants that sent shivers up his spine when he delivered pizzas to them.

The Toyota slowed as it rounded the gravel road entry and pulled in front of the main door. Roger glared at the front door and sighed. “Tips,” he whispered as he tried to shake the chill. They had always been amazing tippers, the Shelltons. Never stingy, but always demanding, it was full service at all times. Roger had to deliver the pizzas like they were the special guests at some friggin’ White House dinner. Placed, arranged and checked. Every time. Roger was the only one who managed to get out of the Shellton home without being chastised or corrected because he remembered the routine and followed it after the first few deliveries to the Shellton residence. . He was the only one that managed to get the generous tips from the Shelltons as well.

Roger swung the door open and stepped out of the truck. He dropped his keys into his pocket and slammed the door. He started to walk around to the passenger side door and the lights around the outside of the run down, three-story burst into brightness as he rounded the back of the truck. Again, business as usual- they listened for the slam. He moved around to the passenger door all the while keeping one eye trained on the house. His eyes narrowed when he reached the door and had to look away. There was more than one occasion when one of the damned Shellton children appeared behind him without a sound made on the gravel roadway. It was more than a little unnerving.

Four pizza boxes in hand, Roger kicked the door shut and made his way up the stairs to the front porch. The door opened before his foot touched the welcome mat.

Correl? Coral? Roger tried to remember the oldest girl’s name. He smiled and went with, “Hi – Roger from Pizza Towne.”

“Roger.” She sighed the name and smiled a wide smile. Roger wasn’t sure why, but it seemed more sinister than friendly. “Thank you for driving all the way out here yet again. We just can’t seem to get enough of your delicious creations. Please, come in. The air is chilly. We don’t want to let it out.” She corrected herself. “The heat out.” She stepped back and held the door against her pale cheek.

Oh, come the on, man. It?! Roger tried to ignore the foolishness. It was merely another way these rich, wackos entertained themselves. Eccentric, rich and bored – a horrid combination.

Roger stepped inside and heard the door click shut behind him.

“Coral, remember?” She walked by him and her bare arm brushed his. A small shock ran up his arm and over his shoulder. “Oh…static,” she whispered.

Chills or not, Roger took the liberty of watching her sway as she made her way to through the entry way and towards the hall. She was curvy, dark haired and an impressive five foot nine or so. She never wore revealing outfits that showed much, but they always accentuated her womanly curves. If roger had not been scared of her, he would have asked her out long ago.

Roger followed as he had been instructed to do many times before and wondered which room they would have set up this time. Would it be the black and white tile kitchen was it’s many thousands of dollars worth of cooking equipment that seemed to remain unused? Or perhaps the grand dining room area with it’s wall of old, wavy floor to ceiling mirrors that he was sure had either seen many secrets or were hiding voyeuristic occupants.

When Coral moved up the stairs, Roger stopped short.

“Um, should I follow? Or, should I just—“

“Yes, please. We’ll take those upstairs, if you don’t mind. Grandmother isn’t feeling well.” She didn’t look back when she spoke, but continued to move slowly up the stairs.

Roger followed and stole a glance up at Coral from time to time. The stairs curved up and to the right toward the second floor. Roger got caught up in Coral’s hips a bit longer than he had planned. A booming voice jolted him from the hypnotic sway and a rush of heat flooded his face.

“The PIZZA man! Fan-fucking-tastic!”

Roger mustered a smile as he looked over toward the voice and raised the cardboard boxes up a few inches. “That’s me.”

The man at the top of the stairs was a brother or uncle, Roger thought. The man had close-cropped hair and dark eyebrows. He was built like a super hero. The genes in the family must have been fantastic. Roger thought the aforementioned grandmother looked like she was over one hundred years old if it was the same woman he saw during his last visit t the house.

He still wasn’t sure how many people lived in the old place. Sometimes there were two pizzas ordered and sometimes there were ten.

“I thought we were going to have to eat the damn dog. We waited to long to order. I told you, Coral. Friday nights are busy right, um…pizza man?”

“Roger.” Roger smiled awkwardly.

“You’re part owner, right?” Coral turned abruptly to face Roger and Roger stopped just short of bumping her.

“That’s right. Peter and I own Pizza Towne.”

“Niiiiice.” The man waved roger forward, then pointed towards a dark doorway. “In there, por favor.” Another creepy smile assaulted Roger. Maybe that ran in the family as well.

Coral didn’t move when Roger moved toward her. He whispered, “Pardon me,” and brushed past her.

“Sorry.” She giggled softly and Roger’s amorous feelings turned towards disdain.

“Kind Sir,” the man said as he bowed and raised his hand towards the dark room.

“Um…the light?”

The man glanced at the room.

Roger stared into the room’s blackness. The absence of light seemed like a black hole creation. The light from the hall was swallowed up by the room inches into it. Roger deemed it a trick of the lights position, but it still made him think twice before stumbling into it.

“Let me turn it on for you,” Coral said in a low tone. Roger jumped at her voice’s nearness. “We’re used to this old house.” She disappeared into the dark and the room sprang into brightness moments later. Roger thought he heard her whisper something. She reappeared and beamed. “There we go.”

Roger grinned to the tall man and moved into the room.

Coral whispered, “The funny thing is, people treat dark rooms they are scared of differently when the light’s are on…” She smiled, “…as if whatever they were scared of in the dark isn’t there when the room is filled with light. I find that humorous.”

“But, you’re dark like that, Coral sweet. Creepy little thing you.”

“Your one to talk, Stephen.” Coral smirked at the man in the hall and motioned for Roger to place the pizzas down on a small table in the corner.

Roger nodded and moved deeper into the room. It smelled of musk. Like a bad cologne. Roger followed the routine as always. Pizzas down, boxes moved off each other and spread out, contents checked against what was ordered and the receipt slipped off whatever box it was taped to and presented total side up. Roger had checked to make sure the register carbons were still easy to read before leaving the shop. He smiled.

“And, here you go.” Sweat beaded across his brow.

Coral stared into Roger’s eyes and the smile on her face lingered in a hovering, sort of faded way. A strand of her dark, silky hair fell over her eye. “Are you nervous, Roger?” Her voice was soft and coy.

“He seems a bit…jittery.” Stephen leaned against the door jam.

“Friday night madness at the shop. I’ve just been going and going tonight. I really have to hurry back and…before things pile up.” He felt his throat grow dry.

“I see,” Coral purred.

“FOR CHRIST SAKE, pay the man and let him go already. I’m hungry.”

Roger nearly jumped out of his skin. He had not noticed the older woman in the chair towards the back of the room. Her voice rattled as if her throat was full of phlegm. She coughed and fanned the back of her hand at the man Stephen. “This migraine is finally starting to calm down. Don’t get it going again.” She closed her eyes and rubbed at them.

Stephen laughed and strode over to Roger pulling his wallet from his back pocket. “What’s the damage, Roger-san?” He stared at the receipt, then flipped through the bills in his wallet. He yanked a few free and swapped the receipt for the bills. “Keep the change, Sport.”

Roger didn’t bother to count the money. He let his relief shine through in his smile. “Thanks. Well…goodnight.”

“Good eve, Sweet Roger. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Coral let her face fall into a mask of sorrow. “We’ll remember you as we eat of your Pizza Towne. We’ll hold your memory within out heart….our souls….and our full bellies.” She smiled wide.

“Great.” Roger wanted to run.

The older woman sighed, “Jesus.” She stood and moved to the pizza table. “Thank you, Pizza Man. Goodnight.” It was dismissive, but Roger didn’t mind in the slightest.

Stephen saluted as Roger passed him, then joined the older woman at the pizza table.

Coral lead Roger down the stairs to the foyer and held the door open for him. Upstairs, the older woman called out in both English and some Slavic sounding language. “Pizza is here!” Footsteps thumped above as people moved from wherever they had been. Again, Roger had no concept of just how many people were up there.

“Goodnight, Roger.” Coral held his gaze with her dark eyes. They seemed to sparkle in the half-light of the foyer. Her full lips pulled back into a smile. This time it was a sweet smile. Delicate.

“Goodnight.” Something stirred in him and the chill slipped away and was slowly replaced by desire. Roger stepped into the warm summer air.

The door closed.

Roger turned and studied the door. He saw Coral staring back through the lacy curtains for a moment before turning and moving out of the foyer. She stopped at the hall and her hand slipped out to the side and rested on the wall switch. She didn’t flip it, however. Her head turned slightly.

Roger turned, jogged down the front steps and crunched across the gravel to the truck. He opened the door and climbed inside. He waited a moment, then pulled the truck door closed. The hollow slam filled Roger’s head with echoes for an instant.

The front lights darkened.

Paper Moon

2010-10-26T09:09:00.000-07:00

“Yes, it's only a canvas sky
Hanging over a muslin tree
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Without your love
It's a honky-tonk parade
Without your love
It's a melody played in a penny arcade”

It's Only A Paper Moon

Rain beats against the window as music starts to fade away in the hallway. The last of the dancers make their way down the hall – eager to change and leave for the night even if it means a walk in the rain. Their muffled voices drift away on the other side of the door. The tiny room is dingy and smells of mold and something else. Something sour. The club singer paces in her dressing gown. She's done for the night. So done. Tears stream down her cheeks as her breasts dance under the willowy silk. Her raven hair and dark eyes catch the light from the small lamp from time to time and seem to sparkle and glisten.

“Are you serious this time or it this another ploy? I mean, I'm not going to stay if you're just putting me on again. I can't take it no more.”

A man stands in the corner of the room and stares out of the shadows. He looks over to the weeping woman and wishes he could tell her what she wants to hear. He wished he could tell her anything. He wished. His suit is filthy and wet with the night's rain. He stares out from the shadows and longs for her. So close. So far away.

“Ya big lug. Leading me around by the nose.” She wipes her tears away and her voice grows louder. He glares. If she keeps this up they'll barge in and find the two of them. Then what? Stuck in this closet of a room didn't leave a lot of options.

Her gown shimmers in the streetlight streaming through the filthy window an she looks radiant. Glowing. Her voice slips through the room like syrup and fills his ears with song even when she isn't singing.

The club was packed, but he's not sure it matters to the likes of the mob. Hell, they probably owned the joint. For all he knew, they owned her.

Somewhere down the hall dancers chatter in the glow of the club lights as it starts to close up for the night. Guy Lombardo proclaims that some dame is making him crazy. There's something funny about that, but he can't laugh about it now.

Her wailing takes him by surprise as she screams out, “Why'd ya go and leave me in th first place! You said you'd always take care of me! You promised, Tommy!”

He holds up his hands and waves his arms stiffly, then glances at the door. She needed to be quiet. Quiet as a mouse. He pressed back into the shadows as the door of her dressing room springs open and the door jam splinters inwards. Subtle these boys ain't. Two silhouettes of mountains fill the doorway.

“Well well well.” One of the mountains moves into the room and has a look around. They either don't see him or figure two to one is good odds in their favor. “You turned out to be quiet a little artist, Baby. Totally bent.”

“Says you!” She tries to hold her own and if she's scared she doesn't act it.

“Listen, Biscuit, I don't care what ya did or didn't do. Don't matter now any which way ya cut it.” He lets out a chuckle as the other mountain moves into the room and slowly closes the door behind him. He shoves a chair under the knob to keep the door closed then folds his arms over his massive chest.

“I don't care what you or your gun mob think. I don't have any desire to talk to you hoods. Scram!” Her voice cracks. A dead give away to the fear swelling in her, poor thing.

“Easy,” he whispers as he pulls the cannon from his pocket,”or you'll be taking the pistol route outta town.”

She shrieks and the man in the shadows is filled with rage. This man has gone too far. The man in the shadows pulls the alley apple from his pocket and grips it in his dirty hand. The brick feels rough to the touch, but somehow his hands feel rougher. He moves out of the shadows and the two men turn to face him. Bravado turns to horror as the light floods over the lurkers face and clothing.

Dirty, and stinking, the lurker growls low through sewn and blackened lips. Bits of herbs and tatters of poultices drip and slither from the sides of his mouth as another low, dull growling mumble rumbles into the space. His milky white eyes glare through the half light as he stomps deeper into the room. His kin is a deep gray and his eyes are ringed with dark circles. A zombie.

The hand cannon goes off, but it's an impulse trigger pull fired from the hip out of fear, not desire to kill. The shot goes wide and into the wall. The men stare on. Their eyes are filled with fear.

Shouts and calls fill the hallway outside as fists pound at the door and shrill voices ask if the club singer is alright.

The second man struggles to free his weapon from his coat. He doesn't have a chance. The alley apple crashes into the side of his head hard and he goes down for the count and hits the flooring like a sack of potatoes.

Her screams fill the room as he turns to face the final, now lone mountain of a gunman. “Look out, Tommy!”

The gun goes off again, but this time the deadly extension of the man's hand is leveled right at Tommy's chest. There's no quick witted comment. No gunman bravado. Just an explosion that opens a small hole in Tommy's chest and a larger one in his back. Another shot rips into his shoulder, but it doesn't matter. He stumbles back and slumps against the wall.

The gunman shivers as sweat pours over his face and hands. “Jesus.” A lamp crashes into his back and he winces. He reels around and catches the woman across her face with the back of his hand. She yelps out and stumbles back into her dressing table. Glass breaks and items burst into life and dance their way to the cheap carpet as she drops to the floor far less gracefully than she dances.

The gunman pants and looks from his would be assailant to the woman on the floor clutching at her cheek and sobbing. The hallway fills with chatter and calls. It won't be long now before the bulls show up. He'll have to take care of this and get out fast.

“Ok, Doll.” He levels the gun at her. “Where's the dough!” His hand shakes.

The stirring behind him makes him gasp. He turns and sees Tommy rise up from th floor. Rising for the second time this eve to take care of his girl.

Shots ring out and bullets fly as Tommy closes the distance between himself and the gunman. His ear explodes and blood flies. His arm rips open as another bullet rings true. His leg bursts at the thigh. All too late. All too weak to stop what's coursing through Tommy's body.

The gunman's scream is cut off as Tommy's dirty, rotting hands find his throat and squeeze. The gunman tries to hit Tommy with the gun, but it doesn't phase the living corpse at all. A grin pulls at the corners of his mouth and brackish liquid snakes down his chin.

The gunman sees the horror up close now. Sees the crude thread that holds the terrible lips shut. He smells the muck that drips from the corners. Sees the leaves and oily brown that glistens on the dead things lips. He's seen the look of death before, just not...moving.

He remembers, as his vision starts to go dark and the pain in his airway starts to give way to the limp darkness, where he's seen this man....this thing....before. Days earlier...at his funeral.

Time flies.

The questions she had to answer were moot. It was obvious to the goons when they saw the scene before them that this was more of the same. The mob cleaning house. She'd been roughed up and some tough guy had dispatched the two and made like a bird and flown out the window. They had her kick it apart for them, told her that they'd be watching her and that she should wise up before she ended up as dead, then they slipped away and out as the meat wagon took away the dead.

There was no question that she didn't do the deed herself. These two mountains were manhandled in a big way. A crushed skull on one and another with his neck looking like a few sausages crudely wrapped together and his head turned almost all the way around. No dame had that strength.

Not by herself anyway.

She sits and thinks it all over and stares out of the window of her little apartment. Thinks about the money – their money – and what she'd do with what's left over. She'd paid a pretty penny for that old lady to work her magic on Tommy. Money well spent. He did say that he'd always take care of her. He always said it. She was sure he didn't mind what she'd done to him. Water under the bridge now, anyway. None of that mattered now.

She takes a drag on her cigarette and turns up the radio. Something slow and easy drifts out into the dark room and tears fill her eyes as she tries to forget everything. She knows she'll never be able to, however. Those eyes. Tommy's milky white....sad eyes.

Something moves in the alley and her eyes narrow. Smoke swirls around her head as the cigarette falls from her fingers and on to the floor.

He stomps up to her window and lightly raps on it as the rain washes over everything.

“No. No...you can go away now!” She shakes her head as he knocks again – harder now. His terrible eyes stare at her blankly. “Go away, Tommy!” She backs up and her breathing grows more rapid. “You did good and now you gotta go.”

He gives her the once over, cocks his head to the side lowers his arm.

She stares at him and whispers, “Go on...beat it,” under her breath. She moves closer to the window. “Beat it! Get the hell away from me.”

She doesn't have time to avoid the glass that rains in on her as his arms crash through the windowpane. She falls back into the room and hits the floor hard. The wind leaves her body in a huff as Tommy crawls into the room. He drags himself up and in effortlessly.

Dazed, she scrambles to her knees and makes for the door. Glass punctures her knee and she screams as rolls onto her side. She looks back and pushes herself back with her hands- slithering towards the door on her backside.
“Go away, Tommy! You're scaring me! Leave me alone! Get the hell away from me!”

Tommy's groan sounds mournful. His arms reach out as he stomps over the broken glass.

She winces when she notices the massive shard of glass lodged in his guts. Entrails work their way out of the wound with each step. She gags and scrambles back and away from the horror before her. Her mind franticly grasps at the strange word the old voodoo lady had given her to release Tommy from the world again.

Tommy's face is sad and his brow is furrowed. He's filled with nothing but love for her. He'd do anything for her. Had done everything for her. He even had given his life for her. His love for her broke all boundaries.

Tommy looms over her and blood drips onto her bare feet. She knocks into the desk and sends the light crashing to the floor. The room goes dark.

The word hits her like a ton of bricks. “SATHRATHNI!”

Tommy feels his legs go weak again. Feels the life slip from him as his eyes go wide in the darkness. He drops. His body collides with hers.

She gasps. Air fills her lungs for the last time as the shard of glass wedged into Tommy's body pierces her flesh and brings the curtain down on her life. She wants to cry out, but withers away before she has the chance. Shock and terror stop her heart before her fatal wound can. The light leaves her lovely brown eyes.

He reaches up and touches her face, then he reaches for his lips and tears away the heavy thread. Gore, herbs and a small shell fall from his mouth. He whispers, “I love...”

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Happy

2010-04-08T18:54:00.001-07:00

As I sit and stare out the window at the glorious pacific and the warm breeze slips over my skin, I can't stop smiling. The Ink Spots sing about a lazy river and I get it. I understand the feeling. I stretch out and wiggle my toes as I bask in the glory of the old tune.

Blue skies up above, everyone's in love. Up a lazy river, how happy you could be. Up a lazy river with me.

“Damn straight!” I giggle and sip my vodka up with a twist.

The tune changes to Round Midnight – a jazzy version with sax and attitude – and I feel like crying. What a perfect moment. What a perfect day.

The sun sets slowly over the pacific and I stare at the waves as the glisten and play.

It makes no sense, but I want scream. I want everyone to know just how happy I am right now.

I take another sip of vodka and the twist slaps playfully at my tongue as the liquid slithers down my throat.

I'm glorious.
I'm the pacific waves dancing in the last light of day.
I'm happy.

I know that tomorrow, I'll claw and clutch at memories trying to remember this feeling. This moment.

I hope I'm can.

Read'N'Dash Fiction: How's The Whiskey?

2010-03-04T21:17:00.000-08:00

"I'm not even sure you'll remember any of this. Not that it matters in the slightest."

The voice drifted out of nowhere and rang through him like an alarm in the cold of morning. He opened his eyes and stared at the man before him blankly. He tried to get his bearings. Figure out where he was and who this man was before him.

"How's that whiskey?"

Again, the dreamer tried to piece together what was going on and failed. Confusion started to give way to fear. He didn't recognize anything around him. He could barely put the objects in the room together.

"It just gets worse from here, you know? The confusion. The hallucinations." The man took a step forward and a shaft of light illuminated his face. He was dark and his afro was tight on his scalp. His large jaw cracked into a slow smile as he adjusted his tie. "Horrid feeling, really - that confusion. The complete lack of base." He shook his head and chuckled. "Adrift on a sea of unfamiliar memories."

The dream stood and looked into his hand. The whiskey glass was gone, replaced by a pencil. He dropped it absently.

"Top of the stairs. First door on the right."

"Where's the bath-." The dreamer blinked hard and stopped mid sentence, turning and making his way to the dim staircase. The climb seemed surreal. More surreal than the somewhat one sides conversation in the...living room? He couldn't remember now.

He reached the bathroom and closed the door. The space was tight and cramped - the style was Victorian and close. A basin with a mirror ground into his hip on the left and a toilet - obviously picked for it's demure size and shape - was on the right. Light poured in from the small ornate window. Cut and shaped colored glass at the top cast lovely shadows on the pale walls.

He blinked again and turned the tap on. Dipping his right hand in while clutching at the rim of the basin for support, he splashed his face with water and took momentary pleasure in the cool wetness. Leaning back and gazing into the mirror, he saw that there was no liquid on his face. His hand was bone dry.

A figure caught his gaze below. It wore a heavy dark coat and jeans. He couldn't tell if it was male or female. He couldn't see it's face. It stood between the trees below and stared up with a shadowy face that filled the dreamer with dread and sadness.

Orange leaves littered the ground and a wind sent a ripple through them as the figure turned and walked away slowly. Gone.

"It'll just get worse from here."

The dreamer opened his eyes and stared at the blonde woman before him.

"The doubt. The sadness. You'll fight it," she sad sadly as she clicked her heel against the hard wood flooring of the living room, "but it just gets worse."

The dreamer realized that a glass was against his lips. Cool liquid was pouring down his throat. It burned as it traveled down to his belly.

"I'm not even sure you'll remember any of this. Not that it matters in the slightest."

The voice drifted out of nowhere and rang through him like an alarm in the cold of morning. He shut his eyes and opened them again. He stared at the woman before him blankly. He tried to get his bearings. Figure out where he was and who this woman was before him.

"How's that whiskey?" She smiled sadly.

Read'N'Dash Fiction:Day

2010-03-02T20:08:00.001-08:00

He sipped his whiskey and listed to the sound of the party outside. A neighbor and a birthday party with parents and children laughing and playing. He stood and pulled the curtain back slightly and stole a glance at the beautiful day outside. It was perfect. Beautiful, warm and blue. He sat back down and finished the whiskey in his glass. He had no desire to go out there. Not today.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. She’d be calling any minute now. He’d fucked his day away. His precious day home. His one day of rest this weekend. Tomorrow’s plate was full, then the next day was another round of work fun. This was his day and he couldn’t even remember what the fuck he had done with it.

A shave and shower, he remembered that clearly. He'd managed to do something during the day. That and a walk that consisted of a few blocks before he returned home to avoid the heat and people. He had not even wanted to visit his usual haunts – too far and too many people between. He was supposed to be building models, watching movies and writing, but all efforts to motivate himself towards the activities failed just like the walk had.

A glance at the clock. Five-thirty.

Shit.

The party raged on next door. Children screamed and laughed as parents did whatever parents did at these occasions.

There was still time to do something. But now there was the pressure of picking the right thing.

Writing? Was he even in the mood?

The models sat in his closet were an option. He knew he had five there to pick from, but he didn’t have the desire to do that either.

Again, shit.

He didn’t even have any friends he felt like talking to at the moment. Normal people would call friends to go shopping or hang out doing nothing with. He couldn't even manage that even though he knew that, if he simply picked up the phone, he'd be having fun with friends in minutes.

He didn’t feel like doing anything.

Nothing at all.

He stood up and stared out the window. He brought the glass to his lips and sipped at the amber liquid absently. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to drink, honestly, but it was the easiest thing to do at the moment.

That's when he spotted the little girl staring at him from over the fence. Her almond eyes were locked on his. Her mouth was a straight line. Blank and simple in it's absence of emotion.

“Hey kid. Not polite to stare,” he muttered as he sipped again.

She kept staring.

“Ok, creepy. Go back to th party.” He chuckled to himself. “Run along.”

Without changing the look she wore, she lifted her hand and waved slowly, then glanced back at the party before returning her blank mask of a face to him.

He waved back, but wasn't sure why.

With that, she dropped back off whatever she stood on to peer over the fence and was gone.

He sipped and felt like the day wasn't a total loss. He had made a new friend, after all.

From the notebook of Susan Cooper: Things I Didn't Say Today

2010-03-02T19:43:00.000-08:00

From the notebook of Susan Cooper: Things I Didn't Say Today
Page 247
March 1st, 2009

“I don't really give a shit what color you like, actually.”

"Do I look like your mother? Don't even answer that. Go away."

“Fuck you.”

“I'd help you if I didn't have smart people to assist first. People I like more than you. People that respect the work I do. You know – cool people.”

“If she does that again, I swear, I will do everything in my power to see that she's fired by Friday.”

“Come on – figure it the fuck out. It's not rocket science. This is the basic shit that I learned...what? Like 13 years ago right out of the God damned chute, you hack. How much are they paying you?”

“Fuck you.”

“Am I the only one with a brain around here?”

“Seriously – you couldn't figure this out by yourself? How do you get dressed in the morning?”

“You're an idiot.”

“I hate you. No, really. I really, really hate you.”

“I can hear you fine. I'm just ignoring you.”

"You'd make an adorable whore. Nice pants."

“Go to hell.”

“Bite me.”

“Blah blah blah.”

“I want to punch you in the neck SO bad right now.”

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Windows

2010-03-02T19:25:00.001-08:00

She stands in front of the window with the light reflecting off of her creamy skin and her robe barely hanging on. He's sure people can see her, but says nothing for fear of her chastising him again for telling her what she already knows. Her accent is strictly New York all the way and he loves hearing her speak, even if it means that he's hearing it stomping at him and pointing out his faults.

She turns and catches him staring. “Your neighbor's a perv,” she mutters blankly. Her hair catches the light and glimmers for a minute before going dark again.

He finds it funny seeing that she's the one standing in front of the window – the fishbowl now that the sun has fallen – with her breasts bared and nether regions barely covered. He grins and rolls over on his elbo. The bed creaks under his weight.

A bus roars past. It's wheels hiss as they cut through the rain soaked streets.

“Seems like you're pretty pervy too, the things you were doing.” She smiles her awkward little smile at him and seems to glide to the bedside. “I'll walk funny for days.”

“Was it worth it?” He stares blankly.

“Guess so.” She sits on the edge of the bed and covers herself with his robe, pulling it over her shoulders and hiding her supple breasts away from him again. “I'm not sure why you let me in your house after the last time.”

“I let you in my house BECAUSE of the last time.” He chuckles and slides his hand over her thigh and broad hips. She's voluptuous and womanly and delicious.

The heater on the wall growls to life and pumps more heat into the room. It's unaware that the weak and uncaring window frames will just let all it's hard work slip away into the cold night air rendering it's efforts futile.

“Sorry I broke your window.” She drags her hand over her hair, then covers his hand with hers and removes it when he tries to explore a bit too far. “Easy, Cowboy.”

“Shy now?”

“Figuring you out.”

“You won't be able to. I'm complicated.”

“Is that what you are?” Her voice is cold and uncaring, lacking the playful softness of a joke.

The lights of the city pour through the window and cast harsh shadows on the walls of his room.

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Has she been arrived?

2010-02-05T17:32:00.000-08:00

The bald man slips his hands into his pockets. He scans the hustle and bustle in the office area, resigned to wait as long as it takes to get things sorted. He glances at the posted sign again with a sly smile sneaking across his face.

We're in the process of switching over to a computer system. Thank you for your patience.

The small, Asian woman behind the counter sighs and pushes her thick glasses higher up on her nose. She runs a hand through her white hair and mumbles, “I did that already.” She stares at the monitor before her and scowls at it. She looks like she's trying to destroy it with her mind. She looks up at the woman who hovers over her right shoulder. “The computer is telling me to do it, but I did that already.”

The bird-like woman above her leans forward and nods. “Yes, I'm not sure why it didn't work.” Her hair sways towards the other woman's face causing her to sway back and away from it. “Sorry,” she whispers. She leans back and smiles awkwardly at the bald man before turning her focus back to the monitor before them.

The older Asian woman drags her finger over the screen, then taps it. “See, this one. This one has already been arrived. But this one has not gotten here yet.” She growls out, “They were double booked.”

Something in her voice makes the bald man think the person who made the error is in the same room. He looks up and around the room – trying to see guilt in someone's eyes.

“She's already been arrived?” The bird woman scowls.

“Yes. Yes, that's the problem. They were double booked. When I arrived her,” she says pointing, “this thing arrived them both. They were double booked.” The venom is back.

The bald man is sure her voice is higher when she says it. He looks up to see an olive skinned lady in bright scrubs narrow her eyes and walk away.

“The computer won't arrive both. There must be another problem. It doesn't do that.” The bird lady stands tall as if to show solidarity with the new computer system. Her head is held high on her long, thin neck.

“Doesn't do what?” Another woman strolls up. Her tight, lime green shirt is stretched over an ample bosom. She looks to be in her fifties and as she smile to the bald man, braces glimmer in the office fluorescents.

“Some sort of double booking accident.” The bald man shrugs and smiles.

The three ladies look at him, smile, then look towards the monitor again.

“Why don't you help this man first, then we can address the issue. Ok?” The braces lady smiles to the bald man politely. The new arrival turns to leave.

The Asian woman grumbles out, “This is not easier.”

The braces lady turns and repeats her request. “Can you help this gentleman, then we can fix the double arrived issue?”

“Yeah, see, this makes no sense. They both show as arrived, but one is not here. What happens when she gets called and she's not here?” Again, the woman pushes her glasses up on her nose.

The bald man frowns. “Yeah, that's going to be awkward.”

The Asian woman looks at him sharply. He thinks he's pushed the limit until he hears her blurt out, “Exactly. They'll call her name thinking she's arrived, but she isn't here.”

“The double booking arrived the two at the same time,” The bald man says sadly with a nod.

“She's been arrived.” The Asian woman nods.

The braces woman has had enough of the whole situation. She steps up again and leans on the counter with the palms of her hands. “Can I help you, Sir?”

He looks to her. “Do you have a restroom?”

Cake

2009-11-18T08:44:00.000-08:00

The smell of burnt hair fills the small, dark room and mixes with the smell of cheap perfume and bacon. Water drips from the faucet with metronome-like precision. Somewhere outside, a dog barks wildly and tries to alert someone of something it finds most important, but seemingly no one else does.

She waves a hand in front of her face to thin the smoke out before taking another breath. She takes in the tainted air tenuously and holds it in her lungs before exhaling. Her eyes water and her pale skin reflects the sunlight that streams through the broken window. The bits of broken glass on the floor shimmer like diamonds. Sliding her hands into the pockets of her tight jeans, she whispers, “I want to get some cake.” RELAX is written across her t-shirt in bold, black letters.

“Where are you going to find cake at this hour on a Sunday around here?” The man continues to cook. His bare feet crunch on the broken glass with each shift of body weight. The memory of her naked in bed hours before still running though his mind. He slides the fork over the surface of the pan and through the grease that coats it, flipping the tender meat within it expertly.

The dog goes quiet.

“There has to be someplace around here that serves cake.” She sighs, knowing that he's probably right, but unwilling to admit it to him.

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Tumor

2009-09-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

MEANWHILE...

She rubs her head and I watch from behind her. Her dog – cute and sweatered – stares back at me from her feet and I bare my teeth at it playfully. Its tail wags and it stands up and it looks like it is trying to will me to come pet it. I don't.

The coffee I spilled on my sleeve earlier looks delicious to me right now. I really need to get out of work before I go more mad than I already am. The heat slides through the walls and over my skin.

She reaches down behind her and pulls her shirt down over her bare back. I snarl at the back of her head. She turns slowly and I let the snarl fade and my eyes roll up towards the wide open ceiling as if I'm lost in thought.

“My head is killing me,” she whimpers, but I act like I don't know she's talking to me even though we're the only two people in the office at the moment. I fain ignorance seeing as she talks to her dog more than anyone else for the most part.

I frown as if I've lost my train of thought.

“It really hurts.”

I'm stuck. I give in and look towards her blankly. “What?”

“My head is killing me.”

“Take some Tylenol?” I shrug and look at her dog and smile. “Hey Baby girl. Sweet little doggie.” The baby talk is high pitched and sickeningly sweet. I wrinkle my nose as her dog goes into spasmodic fits of tail wagging, then I look back down at my computer and start typing again. My
bra bites into my side and I make note of the need to get a batch of new ones.

She stands and moves over to my desk. Her hand presses at her temple and her face is twisted into a pain mask. She winces and hisses out, “I think I might have a brain tumor.”

“Yeah?” I don't look up. I'm tying, but nothing is making sense anymore. I'm filling time. My eyes dart to the clock on the screen and I shudder when I see that it's nowhere close to 5pm.

“Tell me I don't have a brain tumor.”

“What?”

“Tell me I don't have a brain tumor.” Her hands move on either side of her head and her hair reminds me of Medusa's.

I hate her shiny black hair. Hate her cute clothes. I don't hate her, but she bothers me. I'm not going to give in to her wants. To hell with that.

“I don't know.”

Her dog wiggles at my feet, then licks my bare toes and I squeal and pull my foot back quickly.

“Come on. Tell me I don't have a brain tumor.”

“Well, I don't know. I'm not really a qualified brain surgeon. For all I know, you do have one. Go to the doctor and have it checked.” I shrug again. “Or take a Tylenol.”

She presses her hand to her forehead and winces again.

I sigh and stare at her dog. It grunts.

I whisper, “It's probably just the heat. Not a brain tumor. Drink some water and take one of the Tylenol. I'll get it for you.”

the Meeting

2009-09-07T10:55:00.000-07:00

The computer glowed brightly in the well kept office, but it didn't look inviting at all. Not in the slightest. The large, older man sighed, pulled his hair back, and slipped the awkward headset over his head and ear. The microphone that jutted off of it caught in his beard and he cursed silently in his head as he pulled it free and reset the headset. He felt ridiculous with it on, but it was better than holding the phone to his ear for three hours. A horrid three hours. It was never a good call.

A message popped up on his computer screen from justJC. “R U calling in now?”

“YES, damn it...” He frowned and typed “I will be right there” into the message box. He refused to use the shortened form of words on the computer. It just seemed like laziness.

justJC replied back. “Good. He's acting up in here again.”

The man wondered when he wasn't acting up in the meetings. They had been meeting like this for ages and for ages he'd been...difficult. He pulled his chair in as the interface changed and the WebEx flipped through it's paces.

A singsong, female voice chirped in his earpiece . “Thank you for using WebEx. Press 1 to be connected to your meeting.” He pressed the number 1 on the phone keypad after a moment of hesitation. “Thank you! You will now be connected to the conference.”

When his screen switched over to shared desktop viewing, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes slowly, and rubbed at his brow. They were off to another horrible start.

The desktop being shared had an adult movie playing on it. A group of men and women – seemingly without any morals or modesty – pawed, fornicated, and spanked each other. They seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. He tried to ignore the goings on. If he made a fuss, it would just get worse.

He adjusted his webcam and slid the windows around to his liking. Several small windows lived on his second monitor. He saw his face in the first window and made note of the stray hairs of his beard still tangled in the headset. He pulled them free absently. His son was in the second window with justJC under the image. He smiled into the camera and nodded and his son nodded back. “Hello.”

Cleavage filled the third box as two hands with long, red nails pressed breasts together and wiggled them at the camera. The cleavage dropped back and the woman they belonged to laughed maniacally and slid her top back into place. “Hiya! Thanks for joining the meeting today.” She flittered her fingers towards her camera. Her desk space had several small figures lined up in a row in clear sight of the camera – Buddha, Shiva, and a mini-diorama of the crucifiction. Under her image read the title hot4GOD.

He sighed and glanced at the fourth and final box on his screen. A man smirked into his webcam and arched a brow. People moved around in the area behind the man. It was a standard office environment except for the various states of undress, sporadic fire and sparks, and the occasional missing limbs of the workers. The man in the fourth box wore a suit and tie and sipped at a martini. Below the image was the simple Lu.

“Lucifer.” The white haired man nodded into his webcam. “How are you?”

“Just fine...Sir. How are you doing this fine day?” Lucifer smiled and sipped as hot4GOD made obscene gestures into her camera.

“I thought we agreed that you would find a new personal assistant to attend these meetings?”

justJC rolled his eyes at his webcam and leaned back in his chair as the redhead slid a hand into her blouse and smiled wide.

“Lucifer!” The boom of thunder filled everyone's ears as the white haired man lost his patience.

“Now now, TF, you know she can't help it. She has a condition.” The smirking continued. “We're working on it and I just did not have ANY time of late to interview other assistants.” He sighed. “Jezebel, can you do me a favor and...file something? You can skip this meeting.”

She pouted and leaned forward. Her screen went black and everyone's headset beeped as she hung up.

“Ok...sorry about that. What are we scheduled to talk about today?” Lucifer put his drink down and sat upright in his chair. Jezebel walked up behind him in his video frame and stuck out her tongue as she slunk by and out of the picture.

Lucifer glanced behind him as a man was dragged across the floor by two three foot tall monsters with horns. He screamed and kicked his feet frantically as he was dragged away towards the back of the room. The others in the satanic office ignored him and the tiny monsters as they went about their business. Lucifer turned back towards his webcam and blinked.

“I had diseases on the list for today.” justJC shuffled papers. “We're showing that you're not following what we agreed on when it came to diseases and plagues and the wars. You're over on wars, too.” justJC reviewed a sheet, then looked int the camera. “Can you give me the control thing, please? Pass the ball?”

Lucifer talked to someone off screen. He smiled a charming smile and pushed his chair back. “Pardon me one second, Gentlemen.” He stood and moved out of frame. A woman could be heard asking what meeting it was. “Just The Father and Son Meeting. It's crap....don't worry about it. I love this dress on you.”

“YOU'RE NOT ON MUTE, damn it,” The white haired man growled into the headset. “Get back to the meeting!”

Lucifer dropped back into his chair and adjusted his headset. He sighed a heavy sigh and shrugged. “Sorry. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I wanted you to pass me control of the meeting so I could show you this PowerPoint I made. We needed to review this disease issue because....” justJC was cut off.

“Diseases? Really?” Lucifer sighed into his headset and picked up his martini. His brandished it at his webcam as he made points. “We covered this whole disease issue already. We talked it to death in The Human Condition Summit. You don't remember? We bumped the Soul conversation for it because you thought it was so important. ” He sipped. “And, I'm not over on wars. I have invoices to prove it. Shall I ask Jezy to bring them in?”

The white haired man blurted out, “No.” He waved his hand. “Let's focus on these disease issues and move on.”

“I don't have that in my notes,” justJC said with a frown as he searched his notes.

“Check BaseCamp. I'm sure it's on there somewhere.” He grinned.

“Did you send me an email about it? I mean, I just find it strange that I missed that.” He stroked his beard. “Dad, can you check your email and see if you have it?”

God sighed heavily.

“It was the same time we talked about having another Middle East talk.” Lucifer leaned back in his chair. “I'm pretty sure that was it.”

“Oh...right. Now I remember. We were going to stop going back and forth on the Middle East religious issue and you wouldn't let it go. Again.” justJC frowned.

“Hey, I'm not the one who wouldn't give up the point, JC.” Lucifer held up his hands and laughed. “I'm just following through on past agreements.”

“Not like Jezebel helped with her false idols.”

Lucifer pointed at the webcam. “These are widely accepted representations. It's not all about you two you know.” He smirked. “There's Buddha, Gaia, Izanaki, Kishar, Ba Xian...”

“I'm not in the mood for this meeting right now.” God shook his head. “We'll continue another time. And I'd like Jesus to set up the next...WebEx. Thing.” He waved a hand at his computer. “I don't want you to have control of it anymore, Lucifer.. You abuse the privilege.”

“Can I keep Jezebel as my P.A. Then?” Lucifer looked innocent. “I'll tell her to behave.”

“I don't care.”

“Should I send the PowerPoint? I mean, I spent a long time on it and I really think that-”

“Send the PowerPoint out.” God frowned. “Anything else?”

Lucifer shook his head no and sipped at his martini. “I think that covers it for me.”

justJC leaned forward. “Lucifer, can you please have Jezebel send a transcript – a PROPER transcript – of last week's meeting? The one she sent last time was just filled with sick demands and obscenities.”

“Ok...I'm signing off. Goodbye.”

“Ta, God,” Lucifer smiled a pleasant smile and raised his glass to his webcam. “Keep up the good work up there. I have things covered down here.”

God closed the screen.

“Thank you for using WebEx...” chirped in his ear and he ripped the headset from his head and tossed it onto his desk.

Dead Things: The End of Her Rope (Revised 2)

2009-09-06T20:02:00.000-07:00

End of her rope. The end. The ropes end. The end of it. Smoking gun. Caught with the smoking gun. Pain in the neck. Time. End of. End of my rope.

Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to focus them in the darkness, but they didn't cooperate. She felt something around her throat and reached up with a shaky hand to investigate. Rope. The rope bit into the pink flesh of her neck and burned with the slightest of movements. It took her a minute to regain what little control she had. First, she felt the cold wood on her cheek and realized that it was floor and not wall since she was laying on it. Her neck and ribs ached fiercely. Her back felt twisted, but she could move her legs. Something bumped in the hallway and she tried to call out for assistance, but her throat was constricted and pain shot through her when she tried to speak. Everything smelled stale and medicinal.

What the hell had happened? She blinked and tried to sit up. The rope was caught under her arm and pulled at her burnt skin when she pushed up. She winced and yanked it from under her arm and shoved – bringing herself to a seated position. She then assessed the situation.

Rope. Broken pipe above her on the ceiling. Gun on the floor before her, smoking. Her left shoulder hurt almost as bad as her throat. She touched the burnt skin around her neck and glanced up to the broken set of pipes. Had she tried to kill herself? It seemed impossible, yet there she was. But, the gun didn’t make sense. Maybe someone had tried to kill her? Hang her? And she shot them?

“What…” she clamped her eyes shut as the sting from her throat ran down her spine. No talking for now. She tasted blood and licked her lip. It was split and blood ran from it into her mouth.
She blinked hard and slowly removed the rope from her neck. Pain made her wince as she tossed the rope aside. Her whole body ached.

The noise in the hall came again and the situation made her heart beat faster. If this person in the hall had tried to kill her and she had indeed shot them, she’d have to seek help and fast. She narrowed her eyes when she heard footsteps. Obviously, someone was still very much alive.

She rose to her feet and lost her balance. She was shaken and felt dizzy. She thought that maybe she had hit her head on the way down. She reached forward and grabbed the gun and the dizziness made her swoon and she went down on one knee. Her left arm and shoulder were useless – every movement of them made her shudder with pain. She clamped her teeth down hard and pushed herself up. She had to get out of here, wherever here was.

She glanced around and saw that the room she was in had another way out. At least another door. She stole a glance towards the footsteps in the hall and saw the growing shadow of what looked to be a woman moving up the wall in the half light. She looked back toward the opposite door and made her way towards it slowly and quietly. Her head was clearing, but she was still very dizzy and almost fell through the door in the back of the room when she reached it.

She slipped around the corner and checked the gun. She didn’t remember much of anything, but her fingers flew over the gun as muscle memory took over. She spun the chamber quietly and saw that all the bullets were spent. “Shit,” she mouthed to herself as she slid to the floor. Not good. Not good at all. She looked around and saw that the room was nothing more than a large closet.

The footsteps stopped, then she heard them start to move into the room where she woke up. A scan of the room showed that there were no other exits. A few random things to hide behind, but no means of escape. It looked like this was some sort of hospital or clinic. She listened and tried to keep quiet. The room seemed to grow smaller with each shambling step she heard growing closer. She wouldn’t be able to fight this person in her current state.

The person sounded injured. Hell, if she did in fact empty a gun at it, she must have hit the person somewhere no matter how horrid a shot she may have been.

That’s when she caught the reflection of the figure in a large, steel vacuum propped against the wall on the other side of her. The reflection made her heart beat even faster. She fought back the urge to scream and she stared on with wide open eyes and tried to convince herself that what she was seeing was just due to some head injury.

The person shambling towards her had no right arm. It looked like it was shredded at the end of the nub and bone shone through. Bits of gore hung from it and swung back and forth with each step. The figure made a sick, gurgling and smacking sound as if it were chewing air wetly. It was a woman – a breast exposed and covered with blood. But the worst part was the things face. Half of it was gone and pulp with white skull showing through. The one eye she had looked like a sharks eye – black and dead.

Memories rushed in with tidal force. She looked down at herself and the uniform she wore. Police. She was an officer. Officer Janet Temple. She was in the clinic and trying to run away from…them. Oh God, she remembered it all now. There were more of these things outside and she had run into the small clinic to avoid them. She had shot the thing in the face when it came after her. Shot it over and over, but still it came.

She stood and gripped the handle of the gun tightly, raising it high and ready to hit the thing. She drew in a quiet breath and went still. Janet closed her eyes, wished she were somewhere else, then opened them and waited. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight for long in her current state. She could barely keep her eyes open and she felt the room spinning under her feet.

The thing stumbled forward and into the small room. Blonde hair was matted to its head with dried blood. Long scrapes marred her side and exposed ribs and muscle. Janet had seen the look before. This woman – what was left of her – was dragged by a car after being hit. She shouldn’t be up and walking.
Janet shook off the growing fear and concentrated. Her side and throat throbbed with every heartbeat. She stared at the things rotten, gore covered face. Skull shown through and the left eye was missing.

Janet didn’t move. She felt dizzy, but she willed herself to remain totally still. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and upper lip and dripped down the back of her uniform.

The creature stumbled towards the closet. It continued to make the sucking and slurping sounds as it's tongue slithered in it's mouth and out of the hole in the side of it's head. Drool or blood dripped from it like candle wax. It shuffled into the closet and stopped just past the doorway. It cocked its head to the side. Its hair parted slightly as scalp pulled away from bone. The missing eye socket was an angry shade of red mixed with deep bruise blue and black. It waited, moving its head from side to side slightly.

Janet held her breath, fire raging in her arm still held high with the useless weapon in a death grip. She was inches away from the thing now and the stench made her want to wretch. She stared into it's ruined face and prayed that it wouldn't turn to face her.

The missing eye saw nothing on the left. Janet didn’t breathe. Didn’t make a sound. The thing raised it’s arm, then lowered it slowly with a small whimper. It turned to it’s right and shuffled out of the room. Janet heard it stumble and fall, drag its body back up, then move out of the room slowly.

Janet’s arm slowly slid to her side. She stared forward and took shallow, painful breaths. Her eyes closed, then opened slowly. She bit her lower lip and tried to wrap her brain around what was happening, but nothing made sense. She listened, but didn’t hear a thing. Her stomach was churning and she felt as if she might be sick.

“Ok,” she whispered. She palmed the gun and peeked around the corner and peered into the dark. Nothing. She moved back into the room and looked up at the broken pips as she ran a hand over her neck. She couldn’t believe it could be so bad that she’d try to hang herself.

Her belt lay on the floor in the corner and she grabbed it and slipped it back around her waist, slipping the gun back into the holster. No bullets, but she’d sort that out later. The baton she carried was still tucked neatly into her belt’s compartment. She withdrew it and held it tight as she made her way towards the room’s doorway.

The hallway was empty, but that thing could be anywhere looking for her still. She moved quietly and tried to stay to the shadows and darkness.

She glanced out the window and saw other shapes moving there. Other figures stumbling and shuffling in the dark. Part of her thought it might be best to wait in this building until the sun rose, but something inside her wanted out. Wanted to have the option to run if she wanted it. Being stuck in an unfamiliar building seemed like a very bad idea.

The first door she found was heavy and bolted shut. The second revealed her follower from before. It crouched over something small and ate away at it feverishly. Janet didn’t want to think what the small, meaty thing was and moved on.

The door to the outside stood ajar and light pour in from outside illuminating the hall and the lawn outside. A police cruiser was smashed up against the clinic’s fence and smoke rose from the engine as it idled and sputtered – more dead than alive. Radio chatter poured from the open door of the car and the people’s voices sounded panicked and full of fear.

Figures moved around the car, glancing into it and moving on. Shuffling corpses wandering every which way. Janet counted six around the car and more in the street and surrounding area, but they were slow moving and spread out at a good distance. She felt around in her pocket for the keys to the shotgun, but realized they were on the keyring in the car’s ignition.

Her teeth ground together as she peered around the door jam. Panic gave way to anger. She didn’t like this at all. It didn’t make any sense. The things outside were…dead. They were in various states of decay. This wasn’t happening.

Her arm was pulsing and she glanced back into the clinic wondering if she should try to find some sort of sling or meds to help her fight through the injury. Her eyes narrowed as the follower from before stumbled from the room it had feasted in and spotted her. It made a small, guttural sound and started moving at her down the hallway. Janet looked outside and saw another one of them moving toward her slowly from the small garden to the right of the car.

She drew in a deep breath, nodded to herself then moved into the light of the headlights, out onto the porch and made her way to the cruiser. She couldn't let the fear overcome her. She had to work through it if she was going to make it.

She pulled the baton from her hip and drew in a deep breath as she raised it up and brought it crashing down on the head of the first dead thing that came for her. It came crashing down on it's head and it looked like it felt it. She brought it down two more times as it reached for her shirt. It's hands slid down her front as it fell to the ground and lay motionless.

Janet felt hope for the first time of the evening. At least they could be killed. But, she didn't want them to have to be so close to do it. She needed that shotgun. She set her sights on the cruiser and ran. Her head spun and her vision blurred as she fell forward and hit the ground hard. Her eyes lost focus and her vision dimmed. Everything swirled before her as she tried to push herself up and into the cruiser.

Something came at her from the right and she rolled onto her side to see a little boy stomping towards her – mouth wide open and face covered with blood. He grunted and swung his hands around in front of him as his lifeless eyes narrowed. Janet shrieked and swung the baton as he fell onto her. He leaned forward and tried to bite, but Janet shoved as hard as her injured arm would allow and held him back.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gripped his hair in her hand and shoved him towards the ground hard, bringing his head down on the sidewalk. He went still with a squish. Others stomped towards her. She screamed and shoved herself up and into the cruiser, then lashed out with her left arm to slam the door closed as another dead thing reached for her. It's fingers slammed in the door, but it didn't seem to notice or care. Janet thought about freeing it, but didn't want to risk opening the door. She hit the auto locks and pressed herself back in her seat. She screamed as loud as she could and pounded her fists against the steering wheel.

Her heart skipped in her chest and she swung her head around to make sure there was nothing in the back seat. It was empty. Her head continued to swirl and spin as the dead man outside her window pounded weakly at the window with his free hand. His skin was pale and his eyes milky. Blood covered the front of his button down shirt.

Bile rose in Janet's stomach and she clamped her eyes shut. She had a concussion for sure. She gave herself a minute as more of the things start to surround the vehicle. First thing's first. She needed to arm herself. She had left the baton outside. She'd forget about that. She made note of the engine's low fuel, then twisted the keys free. The engine stopped its rattlings and died. She panted as she fumbled with the shotgun lock and smiled a wide smile as it popped open and the shotgun was free.

“Yes....yes....yes...,” she muttered as she slide the extra shells free from the compartment between the seats. She loaded the gun, then slid the rest of the shells into her pockets. There were more bullets for her handgun in the trunk, but she'd have to clear the things away from the car before getting them.

She thought through where she was and tried to ignore the thumping of bloody hands against the cruiser's windows. The radio chattered with panicked voices.

“They're everywhere!”

“Requesting backup! Large group of dead attacking a bus at Lexington and Commonwealth!”

Janet closed her eyes. There wasn't going to be any help getting to her. She needed to deal with this on her own. She slipped the keys free of the lock and back into the car's ignition. The cruiser started to rock as more and more dead tried to fight their way past the car's windows. Janet thanked God that they didn't seem to be bright enough to use tools.

She turned the key and the engine shuddered and cranked, but didn't turn over.

“Come on, Baby. Come on....mommy loves you...” She tried again and sweat dripped into her eyes. “COME ON!” The engine turned over, clattered and rattled, then died. Janet breathed in deep and winced. Broken rib. She closed one eye and the spinning of her head subsided a bit. She had a concussion for sure. She needed help and knew it wasn't coming.

One headlamp flickered and lit up the front yard and porch while the other shone into the sky like some sort of beacon. A woman in hospital scrubs stumbled into the light and fell onto the hood of the car. She pounded at the hood and clawed her way over it to the window. Janet stared into her grey, dead face and milky eyes as the thing clawed at the window. A small smile played on Janet's lips as she thought about asking the woman for help.

Janet closed her eyes. She just needed time to think. Time to sort this out.

Janet kept her eyes shut tight as more and more dead things found the cruiser and it's contents. They rocked it back and forth and punched and clawed the windows trying to get in.

Janet rocked with the cruiser. Her hand slid up to her neck and across the burn. She just needed some rest. Just some sleep to regroup.

The car rocked and Janet let herself slip into sleep.

______________

The sun rose over the hills and light flooded in and around the town of Coopersmith in a filtered, gray haze. Fires burned wild and out of control and smoke filled the air. Ashes drifted from the dull grey sky like spirits. Dead things walked through the streets.

The rumbling of a truck sent a pack of dogs running. A large armored truck slipped though the street and around obstacles - dead cars and dead people. Figures moved inside the truck and peered out through bullet proof glass.

“Police cruiser. Over to the right.”

The driver glanced over as the passenger pointed. “You want to check it out?”

“Could have guns. And that clinic. We could get a few medical kits or something?”

“No. Don't go inside anywhere.” Her voice cracked.

He nodded and truck stopped behind the cruiser.

The small door between the front cab and the back opened and a man shoved his head through. “Why did we stop?”

“We're going to check something out. Keep that shut.” The driver pulled the small door closed and reached for her gun.

The passenger picked up a metal bat from the floor and glanced around and into the trucks rear view mirrors before opening the truck's heavy, metal door. He kicked hard and sent a dead man reeling backwards, then he jumped down to the street. He slammed the door shut. Beads of sweat dripped down his dark skin as he swung the bat and caught another dead creature in the side of the head. His arms flexed and his eyes scanned the area around him coldly. He stomped towards the driver side door and swung the bat into anything that came close.

The trucks driver slid over into the passenger seat and slipped the rifle out the gun slot. She watched for any dead that might have escaped his eye, though it was very unlikely that he missed any. She felt sweat drip down her armpits. It was going to be a hot day in hell today.

The bat crashed down again and the man's eyes narrowed. The driver side door of the car was open. He peered in and saw that the shotgun was gone. “Shit.” He popped the trunk and looked around. He saw someone moving towards him from inside the clinic. “Hello?” He rested the bat on his shoulder.

A woman stepped out of the shadows. She wore a police uniform and clutched a shotgun. It hung at her side.

“Hey, officer. Sorry – I thought this thing was abandoned.” He pointed to his armored transport uniform and motioned back towards the truck. “We have this armored truck and we were going to try to make it out of town and into the mountains. You can...” He stopped when he saw her milky gray eyes.

She dropped the shotgun and ran at him with an awkward shuffle step. She had been chewed at and exposed bone and muscle shifted with each faltering step.

He brought the bat back and gripped it tight. There was a loud crack behind him and the officer flipped backwards and into the dirt with a spray of viscera exploding from the back of her head. He glanced back towards the truck, then ran up to retrieve the shotgun. He hefted it up, then ran back to the fallen officer. He dropped to one knee and started going through her pockets. “I'm sorry officer...” He read the tag on her chest. “...Temple,” he whispered as he filled his pockets with shells from her uniform.

“There's more! Let's go, Jack!” The driver took aim at a fresh, fast zombie and shot it in the back of the head as it started off towards Jack. Others started towards him from the street and around the side of the clinic.

“There might be more guns in the trunk,” Jack said as he moved around to the trunk and lifted it. He saw a large black case in the back and a duffel. With the dead streaming towards the truck, he wouldn't be able to carry both. He slipped the duffel over his shoulder and ran for the truck. The door opened and he tossed the duffel inside with the shotgun.

“Let's go!” The woman behind the wheel bobbed her head up and down wildly and gripped the wheel.

Jack lashed out with the bat and dropped three more dead things and cleared the area before climbing into the truck. He climbed up and into the cab and slammed the door shut.

The truck rumbled away down the street as more and more dead streamed towards the noise. Smoke drifted through the town as figures ran and stumbled through it.

Dead Things: School Bus - Revised 03

2009-09-02T18:20:00.000-07:00

Two figures lay still in the shrubs and grass. Their dark clothing made them hard to see in the shadows. The moon hung in the night sky and lit up the scrub brush filled field. The darkness seemed to have texture and mass – heavy and thick. The warm summer air should have been filled with the smell of cows and hay and wildflowers. Instead, in was stale and oppressive.

It was at the twenty-four hour mark of being awake that things started to feel off and out of sync. He could feel it walking through the gate to the field before he dropped and began the long crawl towards his target. The numbness of his extremities. He made a fist and squeezed hard as he tried to roll his shoulders as best he could from his position laying on the ground. He rolled his head from side to side slowly and heard a pop at the base of his neck. His eyes burned and his body felt heavy and drugged. He blinked hard and rolled both shoulders again trying to fight off the fatigue. Twenty years ago, none of this would have bothered him. Mark would have rolled through the night without blinking. Two nights would have barely affected him. But now…

“Two more – there by the big oak on the left.” The woman’s voice was low and soft in his head as the ear piece sent sound through in a hush. “I still think this is a bad idea. What happened to watching out for ourselves here? Especially after that Brinks truck bullshit.” He could hear the fear in her voice even through the earpiece. She used the throat mic and kept the chatter down, laying not two feet away from him in the tall grass of the field. Even at that distance, he could only hear her through the ear piece.

Mark watched as their target became harder and harder to reach.

The school bus rocked back and forth in the darkness of the field as those on board screamed and tried to keep the dead back. Their attackers circled the bus and continued to surround them en mass. The walking dead surrounded the bus and sent it rocking as they scratched and clawed at it seeking entry. Some of the corpses stumbled awkwardly while other darted and dashed about the bus. A few were lit up brightly in white light by the bus' headlights while darker figures glowed red from the taillights in back.

Mark bowed his head slightly and adjusted the black mask he wore over his head and mouth. He eyed the scene as the bus riders pushed on the doors from the inside and the attackers pushed from the outside. Stalemate so far, but that wouldn’t last long the way the screaming was attracting more and more of the dead things. Why had they kept the lights on? The bus looked like a buffet cart on wheels.

A rustling came from behind Mark and Linda and they went still and quiet. A voice whispered into Mark and Linda's earpieces.

“You have company. Behind you. Pretty far off, but heading your way.” The sniper posted in a tree nearby set his sights, but waited.

Linda turned her head slowly as not to draw any attention to herself. She knew what was there, she just wanted to see what she might be up against. She peered out of the hole around her eyes, then drew in a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out again. “Got it.”

Stumbling forward, a dead woman approached them looking confused and somewhat sad. Linda knew the look well now. It was different than when they saw something they hungered for. Linda summed her up quickly. She was a fresh one which meant she would be faster and more agile, but she was far enough away to give them time to react if they were spotted. She had all her limbs as well and that meant she was going to be a handful. Linda whispered keeping it short and sweet. “Have one. Back. Right. Fresh.”

Mark narrowed his eyes and remained still, his eyes locked on the destination ahead of them. He made note of the new arrivals that joined the attackers and could see that soon this would not be a situation that they cold handle even if they wanted to. “Ok...we need to do this now if we’re going to. Vote it. We in or out on this?”

Linda spoke first, whispering into . “No. There’s no exit.” She kept her eye on the fresh corpse as it stumbled closer, then turned and shambled away towards the bus to join the others. She relaxed her grip on the MP5 and rolled her hand at the wrist. “I count fifteen people on board including some old people and kids. We have a dead bus. They aren’t moving, right? Why? They are out of gas or stuck, right? What are we going to do with fifteen mother fucking civies?”

The sniper chimed in on the vote. Ken’s voice crackled over the earpiece. “Afirm. We get there, do a spray down, then have fifteen frightened people screaming about every dead thing we see. Might as well strap flares to our fucking foreheads. I say we take a pass.”

“And those people?” Mark eyed the bus and tried to keep his head clear.

“They join the casualty count, man.” Linda pulled herself closer to Mark and looked into his eyes.
Mark stared back and saw the fear slipping in around the edges of Linda’s gaze. “We can’t save everybody. We’re miles from camp. We going to load fifteen people into our jeep?” Her eyes narrowed.

They were both right, of course. This was a “no win”. They could clear the dead from around the bus and buy the occupants some time, but then what? All the shooting would draw in more of the fucking things. They’d be down ammo and the bus occupants would be out in the open with no weapons and nowhere to go.

Mark let his head drop, then glanced back to Linda. He whispered, “No go. Ken, climb out of your tree and let’s roll.”

The bus was a mess. The screaming passengers drew more and more attention from the corpses around them. Fresh meat ran to them while the rotts ambled up and joined their ranks. A few people held the front doors shut while others kicked and batted at the dead that had managed to break the buses back emergency door windows. The rest screamed and cried in the center - useless.

Mark frowned and motioned for Linda to get up and move out. The two of them climbed to their feet, then crouch walked away slowly as not to draw attention.

Something sprinted at them through the darkness. At first, Linda thought it was Ken fucking around. Then she saw the missing arm and exposed teeth as the corpse hissed out of the dark. Another ran close behind. They must have come from the roadway.

“Shit!” Linda dropped. “GOT TWO!”

Mark reached for his sidearm as the first thing’s head burst open like a melon. A spray of gore, blood and bone shot from the right side of the thing’s head. It ran forward a few steps and fell as Mark’s round struck the second runner in it’s chest. It stumbled back and dropped with a thick thud. Linda put a round in it's head coldly.

Ken stood up from the shadows to the right of Mark and Linda and shouldered the sniper rifle. “That’s twenty-two.” He smiled under the mask he wore.

Linda let out her breath as Mark nodded towards the road.

Ken stopped and looked back at the screaming passengers and the doomed bus. He made note of the dead that were attracted by the gunfire, still too far off to be an immediate. They had roughly sixty seconds. “We sure about this?”

Linda stopped and whispered, “I am.” She gripped the weapon tight and scanned the area around them for moving shadows and more dead.

Mark frowned. “You have any ideas? Make this a win?”

Ken stared at the bus as Mark and Linda scanned the area.

The bus was swarming now. Fresh dead ran around the bus and pounded the sides. Screams rang out in the dark as the moon illuminated the scene slightly. The sound of glass breaking drifted to their ears as the dead that sought the gunfire's source ran and shambled towards them. The screams increased in volume and urgency.

Ken crossed himself. “Fuck no.”

“Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Linda made her way to the jeep with Mark and Ken behind her.

They didn’t look back.

People Say I'm a Dreamer

2009-07-12T15:15:00.000-07:00

Jessica started seeing things that were not there when she was twelve years old.

Her mother chalked it up to pressure from school, adolescence, and possibly drug use, though she did admit that Jessica seemed rather young to do drugs.

Jessica's father chalked it up to Jessica's mother.

The visions started out innocently enough. A quarter or dime on the floor one minute and gone the next. Blue, fuzzy spiders. Giant butterflies. There was nothing Earth shattering or dangerous about the slips of reality. That all came later.

When Jessica reached college, the floating butterflies, amazing flowers and promised quarters changed to monkeys with fez hats blocking her way out the door in the morning making her late for classes, to fire flowing from the wall heater, to a terrible and unexpected experience with a boy that she had longed for for months that she had finally hooked up with a party down the street. There was no need to go into gory detail there. Needless to say, the visions were adversely affecting her life and loves.

She found that she couldn't stop the lucid dreaming from happening, so she made an effort to control the growing rate and extent of the hallucinations she was experiencing by trying to tailer her them to suit her needs, likes and desires.

But, did she focus on her dream man, fragrant meadows, or floating through her studio apartment on a magic carpet without a care in the world? Unfortunately, she did not. No, Jessica settled on the Skittle scene from E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial because she thought that it would be wonderful to spend some time with the friendly little creature from the ever so magical Spielberg movie sensation.

She purchased the largest bag of Skittles she could find, then placed Skittle after Skittle inches apart leading from the street (there was no garage) to the small studio apartment she rented. Then she sat back in her favorite chair to wait for her brain creation to come to her. Cute little E.T. - glowing finger, heart light and all.

The glow from the television bathed the small room in cool, blue light. Jessica felt the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and the tingle in the back of her eyes – the only warning she seemed to get when the dream state was about to hit. Excitement grew as she waited for E.T. to waddle up to her and claim her as his new, best friend in this - or any other - world.

She heard a rustling behind her and sprang from the cheap lounge chair to meet her new best friend only to find her new best fiend. There before her stood an alien of a different kind. Dark black and glistening, the eight foot tall monster Alien from the horror franchise of the same name rose from it's crouch as it had done while aboard the Nostromo spacecraft in the movie. She had forgotten that she had seen the film mere weeks before. The creature's jaw opened wide and multicolored ooze ran from it's Skittle covered teeth. It's secondary, mini-jaw slid free from behind the row of razor sharp teeth and snapped at the air before it's massive skull. Bits of candy fell from it to the rug as it hissed at Jessica. Without warning, it's arms shot out towards Jessica and Skittles flew at her from it's hands as it opened them and waved it's dangerous claws. Skittles flew striking her about the face and neck. NOT the same as E.T. slipping the Skittles to her sweetly like in the movie.

“Damn it! I've had enough of this crap.” Jessica stomped off to the relative safety of her bed as the Alien watched her go, leaned forward, and snatched up a few more Skittles from the carpeting. It popped them into it's mini-jaw with a purr and sat down in Jessica's chair to watch Reno 911.

-----

Jessica made an appointment to have these visions dealt with. She couldn't take it anymore. The doctor she saw was kind and understanding. His beard made her think of Santa Claus, so when he returned from his desk wearing a red suit with a white fur collar, she wasn't surprised in the slightest.
He handed her the prescription slip and said, “These will help you stay with us in this reality, Jessica.” The kindly, jolly doctor smiled at Jessica as the reindeer behind him stuck it's rather large tongue out at her from behind the doctor's back.

-----------

Months passed and the medicine did it's job. There were no more Aliens....or monkeys with fez hats. No more giant butterflies flapping at her when she walked to her classes. No more surprises. It was wonderful for a time.

She started having weekly lunches with her mother at the club and couldn't remember why she had hated it so much before the meds. It was a perfectly lovely place with perfectly lovely people. No one bothered anyone. Well, no one bothered each other. They just bothered the wait staff.

“All I'm asking is for them not to have a God Damned puree every God Damned day,” Jessica's mother said with whiskey on her breath. “I mean, do these people need to BLEND every God Damned thing?”

“I really don't know, Mom,” Jessica muttered with a smile as she sipped her iced tea. “I mean, they have lovely salads, and...”

“Your father liked pureed things. He was like a baby, that man. Him and his need to have...things a certain way all the time.” She coughed out a bitter laugh. “I don't miss that man and his things.”

“Can we not talk about Dad, please?” Jessica smiled nervously. “You know?” Jessica felt uncomfortable in her own skin. Like a caged animal.

Jessica's mother looked away from her and waved the waiter over to their table. Jessica couldn't help thinking about the night she saw that Alien with it's vicious claws tossing Skittles around. She thought her mother's claws looked far more dangerous.

The waiter smiled wide and came over with a bounce in his step. Jessica wanted to warn him. To send up some signal that would wave him off like the ones they had used to wave off planes on a bad approach to the landing decks of carriers during World War II. She had seen it on the History Channel.

“Yes, Miss Carter?” Another wide smile. A lamb to the slaughter.

“Do I look like a baby to you?” Her mother glared.

The man tried to hold his smile, but it faltered with a clear glance at Jessica that suggested that it was some sort of inside joke. It wasn't. “No? You don't look like a baby?”

“That's right – I'm not. Nor do I need my food PRE-BLENDED. I have not needed that since I was a baby and pray I won't need it again for many, many years. Is it so much to ask to not have my food blended?”

Jessica didn't remember the rest of the lunch well. It was all a blur. Her tears had blurred her vision, that much she remembered. She had hit her elbow rushing out of the club at that moment. The swelling had lasted for the rest of the day along with the swelling around her eyes caused by the tears and sobbing. She hadn't wanted to see her mother again after that and had managed to avoid her - save a few calls from time to time to check on her progress in school. That was months ago. It seemed like years.

---------

Jessica sits in the grass and lets the sun brown her legs and arms while she pretends to pay attention to her book. She looks to her friend, sighs and shrugs at him as she stares into his deep, dark brown eyes. She hopes she hasn't bored him with her story.

“And, here we are. Months later. Mother is at arms length now, thank God. My Dad is still helping with school.” She pouts somewhat playfully. “And, things are relatively good now.”

“Do you miss them?” Her friend smiles a sweet and friendly smile up at her and she loves him for it. He's so kind to her. A good friend. Someone who understands her and her...issues.

“The medications?” She frowns. “Sometimes – yeah. I guess I do.” She closes the book in her lap and adjusts her sun glasses absently. “I mean, the meds made it easier to play along, you know? Play this silly game we're all playing.” She smiles.

“But, it wasn't very much fun?” He leans back on his elbows and squints over to her. He reaches up and tugs his hat forward.

“No. No, it wasn't really.” She wiggles her hands before her as if trying to shake them dry or free of something and cringes. “ I felt bored and dull and lifeless. This is much better.” She smiles and touches his hand, then pushes herself up and off the grass. She drops her book in her bag as she pulls it up onto her shoulder as motions for him to stand. “Let's roll?”

The monkey with the fez at her feet nods to Jessica and mutters, “Sure – I think I'm starting to burn anyway,” as he stands and adjusts his hat. “Are you hungry?” He scratches his cheek. “I was thinking about getting some deli food? A sandwich?” He swats at the massive butterflies that flutter over their heads as they walk through the green grass towards the path that leads off campus.

Jessica thinks a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. A sandwich sounds good.”

Neighbor

2009-07-09T18:53:00.001-07:00

I walked out to my laundry room today.

I opened the dividing door that closed out the laundry and garbage areas and saw a little, frail old lady carting things up and down the back stairs with another middle aged lady helping her.

I smiled politely and walked into the laundry to move my wash loads around. Part of me wondered if Paul was moving out. He had almost moved once before. I had just told my fiance' that I was going to ask the landlord if he had other properties available, too. Maybe it was fate. Paul could move out and we'd move in. A one flight moving day and a bigger space.

The old lady wandered into the laundry room carrying a plastic bucket with a load of bottles inside it. Her arms with withered and bruised. The thick glasses she wore made her eyes look huge. The white hair on her head was piled in a mild beehive. She was so tiny.

“Did you know Paul Thomas?” She smiled a sad little smile.

My mind ran over the upstairs neighbor Paul Thomas. How he would curse and wail as he went up and down the stairs due to leg and back pain. How he would smell of alcohol on some days and smile wide in a neighborly fashion and talk about the weather or the mail absently. The times where the other neighbors in the building had to call the paramedics because he was drinking himself to death slowly. How he disappeared for a few days and how this same woman – his mother, if I remembered correctly – came by to fill us all in on his fall, his hospital stay and the fact that he may not life to see the next month.

He had lived, however, and returned to the six flat building. Had retreated back into his lone existence.

He continued to prowl around the building cursing his pains and late taxis that were supposed to take him for check ups and grocery runs. Continued to scream and shout at all hours of the night when th drinking had gotten out of control yet again.

We'd taken to avoiding him all together. He was hard to manage and you never knew who you were going to get when interacting with him. Would it be the friendly man in pain, but still smiling and wishing you well? Or, would it be the angry man who smelled of sweat and booze?

I mustered a smile and pointed upstairs. “Yeah, yeah....Paul upstairs. Sure.” I nodded and my heart sank when I saw the tears well up in her eyes.

“Well, he....he died this morning.” She tried to smile.

“Oh.....oh man, I'm so sorry. Oh no....that's terrible.” I meant it. It was sad for her and I felt for her loss.

“Yeah....he was just....he had been drinking a lot. It really got out of hand.

The middle aged lady muttered, “Not eating...” from the stairs and placed a bag of recycling on one of the cans.

“Not eating, just drinking. And, he had the bad heart and wouldn't take his medication, you know.” She wiped at her eyes. “He was down at that market down the street – Tate's?”

“Right,” I whispered.

“He just fell down in front. Asked them to call him a cab to take him home.” She sighed. “And, he died this morning.”

“Man – what a shame. I'm really sorry for your loss.” I wanted to pat her arm or hug her, but held back.

“Well, at least it was quick for him.” Her arm shivered.

“Can I deal with the bucket and bag for you?” I didn't wait for an answer, slipping it from her hand. The bucket was light, but looked like it could pull her arm out at the shoulder – she was so slight.

“Thank you. Thanks.” She smiled a pretty, wide smile as I dropped the recycling into the can. “Thank you for being such a good friend to Paul.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “Of course. Of course.” Guilt washed over me. “Well, we're right here,” I said pointing around at our door. “I've been up for over a day, but please let me know if you need any help, ok? I'll be up for several hours. Really – it's not a problem.” I nodded.

“Thank you so much. Really.” She smiled and turned to head back upstairs. “We'll be in and out dealing with this for a while.”

“Oh, your bucket.” I handed it to her.

“Thanks. Thanks again.” She smiled and the tears started again. She managed to make it up the stairs, but I had a feeling of dread watching her do it. She looked like she was made of glass.

I turned and returned to my laundry. I heard her say something about me being nice and how Paul had such nice neighbors and I felt like shit.

I hadn't done much for Paul while he was alive. He lived alone and drank alone. I lived in the same building for years and never invited him over. I never offered to drive him to the store. To grab something for him if I was going down there. If it wasn't for his mother being there when he died, none of us would have known until the tell tail signs of death alerted us to his passing. And why? Because I thought he'd be a pain in the ass. I thought he'd call on me to help him all the time if I did it once.

It was fucked up.

I slide quarters into the dryer and started it after hanging some things on the line. I tossed the next load in the wash and started that going, then I slunk back to my apartment to think over what it means to be a good neighbor.

Hell – what it takes to be a good human being.

The door closed with a click.

Hither and Thither

2009-06-27T18:10:00.000-07:00

She – 30-something, slightly awkward, sharp dresser and leaning towards the hot teacher look that is popular with the kids these days. She is a lawyer and very good at it, but has a passion for the sublime.

He – as awkward and as snappy a dresser. He's finishing his coffee as he moves back down the street to his advertising offices – ready to lie to the masses about just how good it is and just how cool it will be for them to have it. He's likes the lies and cherishes coming up with them.

Cars pass as they would any other day. Their wheels roll over the hot, black asphalt as the sun gleams down from the sky all fire and light. Passing and passing again, they carry their occupants hither and thither. Hither and thither. Hot metal, oil and fuel.

He savors the last of his coffee, then looks at the cup like an old friend that is going away for a long trip. Like something he'll miss and long for until they meet again. He loves his coffee. He turns and deftly tosses the cup into the trash can on the corner, then stops to take a look at his city surroundings. He soaks in the last of the sun he'll see for the day before diving back into his office to toil.

She checks the time on her $230 time piece – at $230 it ceases to be a watch – and smiles as she sees that her brisk pace has put her in the green and with time to spare. Time to spare? She picks up the pace and rounds the corner.

He turns on his heal and heads off towards his building.

She bumps directly into him and her arms grip his shoulders.

He slips his hand around her waist and pulls her close as they twirl.

Time crashes to a halt for a moment. A delicious moment.

Gravity fails to pull them to the ground, foiled by coffee honed reflexes and guilt powered 24 Hour Fitness visits.

They spin, man and woman, and stare into each other's eyes briefly as the heat of the day fuels the fire within them. Her hair falls free and he runs a hand through it and she moves her head closer.

Their lips touch soft as birds wings on the air.

They kiss. It's soft and slow and makes butterflies fill their stomachs and their heads spin. Their tongues slither and their hands grasp and grope with an animal simplicity that they both welcome with open arms and passionate gazes.

Passing.

He runs a hand down her back, then releases her.

She touches his face with her fingertips as she drags her teeth over his bottom lip lightly – pulling at the soft pink flesh playfully as their mouths separate.

They smile to each other, then move on down the crowded, bustling street and away from each other.

Hither and thither.

The sun continues to shine down from on high.

Tires roll across dark, hot asphalt.

Heat fills the city canyons and washes over the pedestrians that scurry like ants.

He'll get another coffee after work.

She'll see about leaving work ten minutes early tonight as a treat.

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2009-05-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

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Nice Guy

2009-05-25T14:14:00.001-07:00

The conversation took it’s usual twists and turns as the night wore on. What was once looked at as fun was slowly turning to obligation for the group, their numbers dwindling from fifteen to ten to five. The food was delicious and the walk back from the restaurant had provided a much needed break from close quarters and four containing walls. Now, back within the confines of Jessica’s small home, the five drank and watched as the hands of the clock crawled around it’s face - all wondering when someone would call the night over so they could all leave and return to their lives.
“I hate Easter. It’s such a waste of time. I mean, what does it mean to me? I’m not hardcore Christian.” Jessica shrugged and sipped her whiskey. The ice popped and clinked in her glass as she swirled it with her finger to spread the chill. “It’s more for my parents now, really.”
“I hear that.” Michael raised his glass in salute, then drank. He smiled sheepishly to Jessica. He eyed her and hoped she would offer up her bed to him again tonight. It had been so very comfortable the night before.
Rose snarled at her wine glass, leaned forward and slid it back onto the small table before her. “I think that I’m officially past the legal limit. I think I’m done with this for now.” She leaned back and crossed her legs slowly while scanning the room to see if anyone was eyeing them. She knew Michael would, the cad, but she always liked knowing people were watching. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Eleven.” Jon Checked his watch. “Eleven-forty. Hmph. The time got away from me again.” He smiled. “That’s been happening a lot lately. I just kinda...zone out.” H smiled and looked around the room.
Brian walked out of the kitchen juggling some small, plastic water glasses. He moved to the table in the center of the room and put the five glasses down awkwardly. He then passed them out to the group and said, “The cure for a hangover is staying hydrated. If you keep water in your system, you’ll be far better off tomorrow morning.”
Rose grinned and winked. “Always watching over us, aren’t you, Lovely?”
Brian grinned back, his eyes dropping briefly to Rose, her legs and her flashed black panties. It was an instant that Rose was waiting for. A glimpse of Brian being a normal, healthy male. He always seemed so far above it, unlike Michael and his frat boy self.
“Good call.” Jon raised his water glass to Brian and drank deeply.
“I like the headache the next day. It helps to remind me not to drink so much next time.” Michael laughed, but took the glass anyway.
“How’s that working out for you?” Jessica shook her head and sighed.
“Do what you like. You’re all adults...for the most part.” Brian chuckled to himself and sipped his water.
“Such a nice guy.” Rose leaned back and drake her water down. “Always the nice, caring guy. Knight in shining armor type. A true gentleman?” She held her glass empty water glass out. “More?”
“Is that a bad thing?” Brian arched his brow and took Rose’s glass. He took Rose’s glass and moved back towards the kitchen to refill it.
“Not bad, just rather safe, don’t you think?” Rose liked where this was going. She saw the embers of the dying evening spark back to life. She called out towards the kitchen, “I mean, I look at Michael and don’t thing about a gentleman.” She shot a smile towards Michael. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and slapped Jessica’s backside.
Jessica tried to look annoyed, but a shadow of a smile snuck in around the edges of the frown as she allowed herself to be hugged by him.
“And Jon, here. He’s a sweetheart, but he has his little dark secrets. Don’t you, Jonny?” Rose giggled and Jon waved a hand at her.
“Oh, Honey, you know it!” Jon laughed and fanned himself.
“But our friend Brian here is so clean.” Rose took the water glass from Brian when he returned. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, M’lady.” Brian smirked and moved back to his spot against the wall. “So, you’re saying that I have to pump up my secrets and be more...like Michael here?” He jerked a thumb towards the snuggling couple. “Rough up a bit?”
“Sure.” Rose shrugged. “Take some risks? Be a little...bad, maybe?” She crossed her legs again and rested her glass on her knee.
“Hmmm...” Brian nodded and thought it over.
Jon said nothing.
“He’d make a good God, you know?” Jessica shrugged out from Michael’s grip to get a little space. “Like Zeus or one of the other Greek Gods. Playing with people’s lives. Making them do things.”
“I’d be a kind and forgiving God.” Brian laughed. “And giving.”
“I bet.” Rose snorted. “We’d all just have to worship you.”
“And build temples to me and things. I think I’d like that.” Brian grinned.
“Would virgins be involved?” Michael laughed.
“A kind and thoughtful God.” Rose eyed Brian and let the wine swirl around in her head with the thoughts.
“I’ve seem Brian be bad before. He’s not all love and gentlemanly qualities, darlin’.” Jon pursed his lips. “He’s not a saint.” He looked over to Brian, smiled and said, “No offense.”
Brian grinned.
“Oh?” Rose perked up. “Do tell.”
Brian sat down on the chair opposite Rose and looked towards Jon. “Sure, let her rip. What’d I do?”
Jon shook his head and sipped.
“Oh come on, man.” Michael motioned for Jon to speak. “Spill it. You can’t just put something out like that and not follow up.”
“Let’s just say that Brian here is more like Dr. Jekyll than Zeus. He has some skeletons. He’s done some shit.” Jon laughed a knowing laugh and looked over to Brian. “Huh, Doc?” He giggled and wiggled his head a bit from side to side.
“Maybe. Maybe.” A slow, wry smile crossed Brian’s face and Rose saw something change within it. Something went slightly dark about his eyes.
“Well? You going to say?”
Brian placed his glass down and crossed his legs. “Maybe not. I think I prefer to keep my little secrets locked up tight with no key in sight. Safer that way. No one gets hurt.”
It was Jon’s turn to snort out a laugh.
Jessica’s smile faded as she thought back. “I think we’re all better off that way. I for one don’t need to see that.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Keep your little secrets locked up and that key tucked away where ever you keep it.” She stared for a moment, then managed to let her smile return.
Rose smiled, but her brows furrowed. “Ok...what’s going on here? What the hell did I miss?”
“Nothing worth going into.” Brian smiled and let his eyes drop to Rose’s legs. He scanned her from ankle to hips to chest then back up to her eyes. He smiled a sly smile and winked.
Rose cocked her head to the side and looked puzzled letting out a nervous little laugh.
“To secrets among friends, huh?” Michael laughed and grabbed his glass. He raised it to his friends and muttered, “No matter how much it creeps everyone out.” He laughed and drank the water down.
Brian raised his glass, looked around the room at his dear, dear friends, and sipped his water.

A Girl Named Sue

2009-05-25T13:16:00.000-07:00

She was a beautiful redhead with curly hair and laughing eyes. Her name was Sue and she was lovely. When I looked at her, I wanted to scoop her up and hug her. I wanted to stare into her blue eyes forever. I wanted to tangle my fingers through her hair. My heart raced when I saw her and was sad when she left. I was young and reckless and silly then.
A friend was pursuing her, as I recall, and I had to have a heart to heart with him before I moved towards her. It was peaceful enough – his advances had been rejected one too many times and he was done with the chase.
“Would you mind if I asked her out?” I remember the statement being awkward, but well accepted.
“No, man. Go for it. Really – I'm done with trying for that.” He laughed and wished me luck. It was a funny laugh, too – somewhat bitter and resigned.

I asked her out that very day and we met that weekend. The date itself was nice enough. Nothing too robust or intense. I think it was a simple lunch and wandering day. It was quiet and low key with plenty of time to get to know each other. I remember walking her home in the warm, summer sun and drinking lemonade with her.
Her house was big and open with sensible art on the walls and a rather plain feel to it. It was a warm, bright day and I was smitten with this freckled, sweet girl. We were young and awkward and interested in each other. We chattered on the sofa and got caught up in small silences where we would just stare into each others eyes until one of us would look away with a laugh.
Sue grew serious and looked like she was contemplating something grave. She looked down to the floor and said, “This is stupid, but...Well, my parents are a little...I don't know.” She wrestled with the words in her head. “Well, they have stupid ideas.” I remember seeing this sadness behind those laughing eyes. I knew something was lurking.
“Like,” I said, still trying to charm her. I wanted to kiss her, not talk about her parents.
“Well...they don't like...black people.” She swallowed the words like bitter medicine. Her face fell slightly and her brow furrowed as she waited for my response. Being a light skinned, African American person, I wasn't thrilled by the news to say the least.
“Oh, I see.” I smiled and shrugged. “Well, we can see how it goes.”
But, it wasn't going to go anywhere. I knew it. She knew it. Racist parents make it hard to date anyone but who they deem acceptable. I knew that I'd never be liked by her parents even though I was a well spoken, upper middle class and respectable person. This was all too clear when I met them later that afternoon.
I introduced myself and shook their hands. I smiled and was polite. I was the sweet kid most parents wanted their daughter to date.
They didn't smile. They just stared blankly. I could tell that they wanted to ask why I was there. They wanted to escort me out as quickly as they could. I left shortly after, excusing myself and walking out without making it look too desperate. Sue apologized and we hugged goodbye.

I called Sue, but she was never able to speak for long. She wasn't able to meet for dates. Wasn't able to arrange a time for meeting in the future. I wasn't able to continue the effort and gave up much like my friend had earlier.

A month or so passed and so did the heat of the summer. Leaves fell at my parents house and needed to be swept away. A perfect job for a teen living at home with a day off. As I worked the broom back and forth across the stained wood, a car drove up the street and pulled into my parents parking area. The engine stopped and I heard chatter and laughter coming from inside the vehicle as four girls bounced and shoved each other inside.

The door opened and Sue emerged. Her short, copper hair caught the sunlight and her pale, freckled skin looked like cream. She smiled, waved and made her way down to me as her friends laughed and stared down from the car.

“Hi,” she said as she descended the wooden stairs. She wore a loose blouse and tight jeans and my heart skipped in my chest for a moment as I struggled with something to say.
“Hi. What brings you down this way?” I leaned on the broom, keeping it between us.
“I just came by to say hello. See if you were around.” She smiled that ice melting smile of hers. Her freckles were more pronounced. Her eyes were bright and playful. “We were driving around.” We both looked up towards the car which sent the three girls inside into another bout of laughter.
“They are a happy group.” I chuckled and looked back into Sue's eyes. Something was different there. Something was less magical.
“Well..maybe we can hang out sometime? Go see a movie or something?” She reached out and pushed my shoulder softly. Her small hand felt like a bird landing on my shoulder before flittering off again. “You should call me,” she purred.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiled a wide, scared little smile, moved towards me, and grabbed my shoulders. Leaning up on tiptoe, she pressed forward and kissed me gently on the lips. She blushed and smiled wider, before turning to head back up the stairs. “Call me, ok?” She made her way to the car, climbed in, and the car came to life again. As it passed, all four girls waved and laughed little squealing laughs – mission accomplished.

I never called.

Read'N'Dash Fiction: The Grass is Always Greener

2009-04-19T23:02:00.000-07:00

The kitchen window is open and the sun is bright on the plants outside. I peer through the fence posts as a figure moves oafishly around the back yard, dragging what looks like a lawn mower with it. I don't see it's full form. I can't tell if it's male or female. I can't even tell if it's human. My mind starts to wander.
I glance over as my wife putters on the computer in the living room. I stand and stare out the window with my coffee cup in hand.
The scene through the slats reminds me of one of those early moving picture machines. A Zoopraxiscope, I find out later. The images through the fence seem like stills flipping forward to present me with a moving picture. I squint and try to make out the figure’s form as I sip my tepid coffee. I think to myself that I’m just wasting time. That I'm creating something fanciful just to prolong the inevitable work flood waiting for me this sunny Sunday. But, looking again, the figure looks huge and almost ape-like as it moves around in the yard next door. An ape in some sort of...bonnet or conical hat that they wear in Vietnam.
I grin to myself and think, "Rue Morgue meets Hanoi Hilton."
I place the coffee cup on the table and press up on tip toe to try to get a better look. The fence is too high, however and all I see more of is that hat. I confirm that it is in fact made of straw and I sink back to my heels. For a moment, I think about standing on a chair, but the visual in my head of what this neighbor would see if they spotted me standing on a chair glaring at them from my kitchen prevents me from following through.
The brawny, lumbering figure drags it’s burden back beyond the area I can see behind a shed and I blink away the growing fantasy that this is actually some sort of creature. Some mythic slave to yard work who usually slips out under cover of darkness to tend to the weeds and grass, but has somehow slipped free into the light of day today. Out in the open to work without fear of being seen or discovered for some reason.
A wave of sadness - no, melancholy, really - washes over me as I remember my work and the fact that I’m the one who will be hidden away. Toiling away from the eyes of those out in the sun today. Sulking with slumped shoulders in front of the computer while the sun shines on whoever...or whatever...is on the other side of that fence.

Read'N'Dash Fiction; Fate

2009-04-06T20:32:00.001-07:00

It was perfect in every way. Looking back on it, he’d agree.
The sun shining outside and wind sending twists of trash and leaves into the freshly swept hallway.
The sound of someone loading the washer at the end of the hallway - beating him to it placing his laundry on hold yet again.
The dropping of his keys. The topper. Subtle, yet without equal in the minuscule arc of the evening.
“God damn keys,” he mutters as he bends to retrieve the ring and enter his apartment.
And this, the best part of all, had to be timed by the Gods above for maximum effect. The act had to be executed on the mark. Grace and style didn’t enter into it.
Foot kicks keys.
A stumble step forward to try to stop then from skidding further ahead.
Hands claw and miss the glistening ring, of course.
And, queue laundry room door. It’s arc perfect and firm. The solid wood frame supporting it’s weight as it swings out on it’s silver hinges and comes into contact with the soft, blond head before it.
A wince of pain and our protagonist clamps his eyes shut tight as he reaches up and clamps the throbbing scalp.
He drops to one knee - directly onto the key ring that lays on the tile of the hallway.
And...scene.

Shell Knob

2009-04-06T20:05:00.000-07:00

Shell Knob, Missouri.
The dirt road rolled out in three directions and none of them looked promising. The sun hung low in the sky as it started it’s arc towards the distant mountains to end the day.
The large man with the sunglasses slammed the grill of the SUV hard. He then slammed his fist into it three additional times for good measure. “Muther…,” he growled before looking up at the woman exiting the right passenger side. He wiped his brow and tried to compose himself. “Must not have been some little thing back there in the station. Think it was sumthin’ a bit more, huh?” He smiled and tried to switch his anger to charm. “Sorry. I should have listened to you and let the service man check her over back there instead of listenin' to those two.” He motioned with his head and frowned.
The woman looked at the SUV, then sighed and slipped her phone into the pocket of her coat. She then dropped her hand into the pocket on the other side and slid a packet of cigarettes out. “I made a call. They’ll be here soon.”
The two men in the SUV were talking in low tones in the back seat.
The woman brought a cigarette up to her lips, then lit it with a golden lighter. The suns rays glistened down onto it and cast sparkles up into her sunglass shaded eyes and face.
“Those two are gonna be mad.” The man’s dark skin glistened with the exertion of trying to fix the engine. He dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief, then shoved it back into his back pocket.
The woman didn’t look back. “I don’t give a shit.” A puff of smoke drifted out of her mouth and swirled around her head like a departing soul. She reached out and tapped the glass of the windshield and the two men inside opened their doors and climbed out.
The bearded man said, “Can’t get it going, huh?” He was the nicer of the two for sure, but even that wasn’t saying much. “And now we’re stuck out here in the ass crack of the world? Hell Knob, was it?” He grinned an arrogant grin. His “casual chic” clothes were wrinkled and his tie was open and loose around his neck like a noose.
The other man said nothing, but continued to stare blankly between the woman and the man at her side.
The bearded man pointed. “This whole trip was some sort of bullshit adventure tour. Come see the fucking scary place. Authentic negro tour guide shows you a haunted sink hole. Real scary.” He slapped the arm of the quiet man and chuckled. “We can tell everyone we were taken in by a Hottie and a Hick.”
The quiet man remained for a minute, then he growled, “Bullshit. We’re not paying for this.”
The woman’s cool cracked ever so slightly as she exhaled and flicked her cigarette toward the giant sinkhole ringed by tall trees on three sides. It’s arc took it to the rim where it bounced three times and smoldered. “Ok, that’s it. No more of this tough guy moneybags bullshit.” She flipped another cigarette out of her pack and placed it between her lips. She pointed at the bearded man with the golden lighter. “You two wanted to come see it. Well there it is. You two didn’t want to wait another fifteen minutes at the station like Harold asked, so here we are until the other truck comes out.”
Harold bowed his head, raised it and glanced at the hole and the small twirl of smoke at it’s rim, then back to the two men. He hated them. Hated their attitudes. He took out his handkerchief again, wiped his face, then slipped it back into his pants. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
The dark haired woman lit her cigarette. “And you leave that racist bullshit up your asses where it belongs.” She exhaled. “You two came to Shell Knob, Missouri to see something you heard about. We didn’t invite you. We don’t want you here. You came without being asked.” She pointed back to the hole. “It’s all true. I may not sound like someone who’d know, but I do.”
Harold smiled wide. “She does talk well, don’t she?” He chuckled.
“I got out of here at the tender age of 17 and went to New York to go to school. Lost my accent in the process, but I didn’t loose my memories. All the stories about this place.” Her face was cold again - stony and calm. “It’s all true. Even been corroborated by several UC professors, but I’m sure you two know that. You two being fancy scholars yourselves.”
Harold grinned and looked away.
“Well, you two sexists bigots – you want the story? You want to see her?” She pointed at the sinkhole with her long, ruby fingernail. “You two can stay here and wait it out by that fucking hole. See what you think of us country folk after a night here in the dark.” She exhaled and slipped off her glasses.
The bearded man tried to size her up. See if she was playing or not. It was clear that she wasn’t. “So, you believe all these little country tales?” He had lost some of the edge to his voice and he almost sounded kind.
“Corroborated, gentlemen. It happened. It’s our history.”
“And, you still believe it? This…thing…is still alive and roaming around?” The quiet man leaned against the car and sniffed the air.
“Yes, Sir. I do.” She walked to the log that served as a road marker and sat down. Insects fluttered through the air and their chirping songs brought both a peace and a sense of being far away from civilization, which in turn wasn’t very peaceful in itself for some reason. It seemed too far away. To removed.
Harold glanced at the hole, then towards the men. Sweat beaded on his ebony forehead. “She’s right. Did happen. Everyone knows.” Harold looked down. “Tell ‘em, Terri.”
Terri Barker sighed and looked to the men as if trying to figure out if it was worth her time or not. She puffed and tapped her cigarette, then cupped her elbow with her left hand as she gestured with the cigarette in her right. “This area was a township back in the early 1900’s. Good, God fearing people who worked their asses off to make things work. They had a particularly hard winter one year and once it broke, well they were thankful. They decided to celebrate in the sun once things started to calm down and the weather started to lighten up.”
She pointed back to the sinkhole area. “Well, the ground was wet and nasty, but they packed up and headed over to the springs over there anyway.” She placed the cigarette to her lips, glanced up, then exhaled softly. “The sun was coming through the trees just fine and they were going to make the best of it. A picnic to celebrate being alive.” She smiled at the irony. “Circled around and prayed to their God for thanks for getting them through.”
The bearded man could hear her accent slipping back from a long forgotten haze of childhood.
Harold stared at Terri like a child listening to a bedtime story.
Terri looked from one man to the other. “Singing and praising. Dancing. Then the Earth went and swallowed them whole. Ate them up. Right in the middle of their praising the Lord.” She smirked. “Ironic, huh? Like those little church going kids that get wiped the fuck out on the way back from a church picnic.”
Harold crossed himself as the two visiting men listened intently.
Terri stood and dropped her cigarette to the ground. Snubbing it out, she whispered, “Men, women and children. They fell down and down. They weren’t sure how many died then – in that fall. Not that it matters.” She cocked her head to the side. “Interested still?”
The bearded man nodded. “Please – go on.” He glanced over to the sink hole spot.
“Well, they sat down there and tried to muster up some sort of plan. Figure out how to get out of that hole before the whole damn thing caved in on them, you know? The thing was deep.” She looked back at the hole with her back to the men.
“They had no way out and folks wouldn’t be getting’ back to ‘em until after dark.” Harold’s voice was small.
“No. No one would know they were in trouble for hours.” Terri sighed. “Well, they sat there ‘till dark. Sat there not knowing that hole was cursed…or whatever.”
Harold looked around nervously.
The two visitors moved closer to each other absently.
“And, this is when the supposed possession took place?” The bearded man rubbed his forehead.
“Yeah. But, it wasn’t some fantasy. Wasn’t some freak out, neither.” Terri’s accent grew stronger. “It was the ground itself. It took one of the weaker ones. Maybe someone hurt in the fall. That ground took her and made her it’s puppet.” She turned and faced the men again. “Whatever happened to her wasn’t…” She shivered.
“It was being in that hole. Someone just…freaked out. Lost control. “ The man was dismissive and the tone of doubt returned to his voice. “Happens. People in tight spaces loosing all control. And, they wouldn’t know about this sort of thing back then.”
Terri interrupted. “She wasn’t human. She killed and ate thirteen men, woman and children. Tore flesh from bone, Gentlemen. Ate them alive. When the rescue party arrived, they heard one man screaming. It’s noted that they thought he was crying for help down there in that hole.” She smiled. “He was cryin’ out for help, alright. Help to get away from her.”
The bearded man cleared his throat.
Harold shook his head. “Horror.”
“So…they show up and look down in that dark hole, but they don’t see anything. Nothing at all. Too deep. Too dark.” Terri stepped closer. “They lowered torches and lanterns down there and that’s when that woman – she starts calling out all quiet and sweet. She says for them to lower a rope. That she’s hurt and needs someone to help her up and out. “ She shook her head and smirked. “Up and out indeed.”
“They got her up and out and into a cart, right Terri?” Harold was entranced. “She got up and out.”
“And away.” Terri stared. “Far away. When they went down in that hole after, they saw the mess down there. The Hell. Men, women and children eaten alive. Clawed, chewed, and torn asunder.” Terri scratched at the air in front of the men and laughed when they both jumped. “Little kids with their faces chewed off. Entrails spread around of the floor. Sex parts gnawed off. Necks…”
“OK! We understand!” The man before her swallowed hard and nodded. “She killed them all. Ok. But, it still says nothing about a monster. Well, not a monster of fiction. She was a monster like Charlie Manson.”
“Little woman like that overpowered six men folk? Took down ten adults by herself?” She frowned. “Strong woman, huh?”
The bearded man continued to stare at the sinkhole. “Perhaps it was something else.”
Harold took a step back. Then another. Then another.
“Legends and tales, John. Legends and tales.” The bearded man slapped his friend on the back. He walked forward and chuckled out, “Don’t tell me you…” The man’s words were cut short by a small, popping sound. Dragging and scuffling carried on the cool breeze.
The bearded man blinked, then looked back towards where his friend should have been. “Carl?” He glanced down at Carl’s feet. They stuck out from behind the SUV on the ground and kicked out spasmodically. “Carl?!” He looked over at Harold, now about fifteen feet down the road and looking back towards the scene, then back to the feet as they twitched. He moved around the SUV and gasped as Terri’s hands shoved him hard from behind.
Terri slipped the pack of cigarettes from her pocket and watched as “She” reached out and yanked the bearded man to the ground. The golden lighter glistened in the sun as Terri watched her passengers discover what they were looking for.
Terri lit the cigarette and moved off down the road towards Harold.
“I hate seein’ that, Miss Terri. Hate it awful!” Harold rung his hands and paced back and forth. The man looked like a huge child.
Terri caught his shoulder and held him in one spot. She looked back as She continued to devour the two men. “Shhh...Harold.”
Harold froze and clamped his eyes shut tight. He whispered a prayer, but Terri didn’t pay attention. Her eyes remained locked on the SUV and the motion towards the back of it. She narrowed her eyes as She stood and stared after them. Terri’s heart skipped and her breathing grew more rapid. “Go on now. Git,”Terri whispered.
She was willowy and dark skinned. The harsh weather and elements had taken their told on her old flesh. Her eyes were dark, oily pools in sunken sockets. Her teeth were sharp, yellow and horrid. When her mouth pulled back into a smile, Terri looked away with a whimper.
A moment later, Terri got the nerve up to look again, but She had gone. Terri waited a minute and fought the urge to light another cigarette. She rolled the lighter through the fingers of her shaking hand, then released Harold’s shoulder.
“She gone?” Harold kept his eyes shut tight.
“She’s gone. Let’s go.” Terri started off for the SUV with Harold close behind. She didn’t look to see what had become of her two clients. No need. They’d be gone. Dragged off to the sinkhole and down into the dark.
“We’re ok for a while, Miss Terri?” Harold slammed the hood and ran to the driver’s side door. He hopped inside and locked the door, though he knew that if She wanted in, a locked door wouldn’t matter.
“For a while.” Terri climbed in and slammed the door. “As long as we bring her folks, she’ll leave us alone.”
Harold crossed himself and brought the SUV to life with a twist of the key. “Heaven help us.”
“Heaven ain’t got nothin’ ta do with it, Harold.” Terri slipped her sunglasses on as long shadows passed over the tainted and malevolent ground around them.

Dead Things: Schoolbus (revised)

2009-03-29T17:41:00.000-07:00

(PG-13 - violence)

Two figures lay still in the shrubs and grass. The moon hung in the night sky and lit up the field. The dark clothing the two wore made it hard to spot them in the tree shadows they rested within.

It was at the twenty-four hour awake mark that things started to feel off. Out of sync. He could feel it walking here. Feel of his extremities. He made a fist and squeezed hard as he tried to roll his shoulders as best he could from his position on the ground. His eyes burned and his body felt heavy and drugged. He blinked hard and rolled both shoulders again – trying to fight off the fatigue. Twenty years ago, none of this would have bothered him. Mark would have rolled through the night without blinking. Two nights would barely affect him. But now…

“Two more – there by the oak.” The woman’s voice was low and soft in his ear as the ear piece sat snug within it. “I still think this is a bad idea. What happened to watching out for ourselves here?” He could hear the fear in her voice even through the earpiece. She used the throat mic and kept the chatter down, laying not two feet away from him in the tall grass of the field.

Mark watched as their target became harder and harder to reach. The school bus rocked back and forth in the darkness of the field as those on board screamed - their attackers continuing to surround them. The walking dead stumbling and darting around the bus trying to get their prey within. He eyed the scene as the riders pushed on the doors from the inside and the attackers pushed from the outside. Stalemate so far, but that wouldn’t last long. Why had they kept the lights on inside? It looked like a buffet for the dead.

A rustling came from behind Mark and Linda and they went still and quiet.

Linda turned her head slowly as not to draw any attention to herself. She knew what was there, she just didn’t want to see it.

Stumbling forward, the dead woman that approached them looked confused and somewhat sad. She knew the look well now. It was different than when they saw something they hungered for. Linda summed her up quickly. She was a fresh one which meant she would be a fast one. If she spotted them, they wouldn’t have long to react. She had all her limbs and that meant she was going to be a handful. Linda whispered, “Have one. Right. Fresh.” They kept the chatter down.

Mark narrowed his eyes and remained still, his eyes locked on the destination ahead of them. “Ok...we need to do this now if we’re going to. Vote it.”

Linda spoke first. “No. There’s no exit.” She kept her eye on the fresh corpse as it stumbled closer, then turned and shambled away towards the bus to join the others. “We have a dead bus. I count fifteen people on board. They aren’t moving, right? Why? They are out of gas or stuck, right? What are we going to do with fifteen mother fucking civies?”

Ken’s voice crackled over the earpiece. “Afirm. We get there, do a spray down, then have fifteen frightened people screaming about every dead thing we see. Might as well strap flares to our fucking foreheads. I say we take a pass.”

“And those people?” Mark eyed the bus and tried to keep his head clear.

“They join the casualty count, man.” Linda pulled herself closer to Mark and looked into his eyes.
Mark stared back and saw the fear slipping in around the edges of Linda’s gaze. “We can’t save everybody. We’re miles from camp. We going to load fifteen people in the jeep?”

They were both right, of course. This was a “no win”. They could clear the dead from around the bus and buy the occupants some time, but then what? They’d be down ammo and the bus occupants would be out in the open with no weapons and nowhere to go.

Mark let his head drop, then glanced back to Linda. He whispered, “No go. Ken, climb out of your tree and let’s roll.”

The bus was a mess. The screaming passengers drew more and more attention from the corpses around them. Fresh meat ran to them while the rotts ambled up and joined their ranks. A few people held the front doors shut while others kicked and batted at the dead that had managed to break the buses back door windows. Then, the rest screamed and cried in the center - useless.

Mark frowned and motioned for Linda to get up and move out. The two of them climbed to their feet, then crouch walked away slowly as not to draw attention.

Something sprinted at them through the darkness. At first, Linda thought it was Ken fucking around. Then she saw the missing arm and exposed teeth as the corpse hissed out of the dark.

“Shit!” Linda dropped. “GOT ONE!”

Mark drew his gun as the Thing’s head burst open like a mellon. A spray of gore, blood and bone shot from the right side of the Thing’s head. It ran forward a few steps, stumbled and dropped as Mark’s round struck it’s chest.

Ken stood and shouldered the sniper rifle. “That’s twenty-two.”

Linda let out her breath as Mark nodded towards the road.

Ken waited a moment, looking back at the screaming passengers. “We sure?”

Linda whispered, “I am.”

Mark frowned. “You have any ideas? Make this a win?”

Ken stared at the bus as Mark and Linda scanned the area.

The bus was swarming now. Fresh dead ran around the bus and pounded the sides. Screams called out in the dark as the moon illuminated the scene.

Ken crossed himself. “Fuck no.”

“Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Linda made her way to the jeep with Mark and Ken behind her.

They didn’t look back.

( edit notes - Carrie Glassmeyer Thank you! )

Rocky and Li

2009-03-29T17:12:00.001-07:00

Sunlight, tall grass and a cool breeze. It was a perfect day in every way, shape and form. The two bodies lay sprawled and relaxed as the wind raced over them - the sun warming and the breeze cooling in harmonious warmth.

Li rolled over off her back on onto her side. She eyed her brother as he dozed. She wanted to pounce on him, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. Best to let him lie.

“Rocky?” She sighed, bored and wanting some of her brother’s attention. “Rocky?”

“What, Li?” He didn’t move. His eyes were closed and he looked like he wanted to keep them that way.

“Ever think about the old house?” She hoped he’d bite. “The old family and all?”
“Yeah.” He yawned and prayed she’d stop talking, but knew she wouldn’t.
“Sometimes.”

“You remember Them? The kids and the parents and all of them?” She was excited.

“Yes, Li. I remember them.” He sighed and sat up. He smacked his lips and pried his eye lids apart. The sun was bright and hurt his eyes. He squinted. “What’s all this about?”

“I just wondered. You know. If you ever thought about them. Why they left.”

Rocky knew what she was after. This came up when things were slow. Feelings for the old life they led. The old house and the people in it. She got sad and happy thinking about them and it always lead to a conversation. Always.

“I think they just had to go. They needed to, move on.”

“Think they did the same to her? Got rid of her or asked her to move out or something?”

“What? Iman?” He frowned. “I thought you knew what happened to her.” He watched as his somewhat dim sister shook her head no. He paused, then said, “She died.”

“Died?” Li’s eyes went wide. “She died?”

“Yes Li. She went away, remember? She was having all those issues, started lashing out at people, went away and died.”

Li held her head down for a moment and thought. The smell of the grasses filled her nostrils and the cool breeze ran over her. She was so sad. “I didn’t understand that.”

“Well...that was it. Just like when Bess died here. Buried her and all that.”

“I didn’t see it, though. I thought she just...left.”

“Well, she did.” Rocky coughed. “Anyway, she’s gone. The family is gone somewhere - most likely not dead. The guy...he left and everyone left after that, remember?” He got up and stretched. “And the big guy brought us to that place and we ended up out here.”

The two took a moment to look around. The farm house looked warm and orange in the glow of the sun. The barn and silo to the right of it loomed brightly and the animals that roamed the barnyard seemed happy and active. This was a nice place and had suited them well. Plenty of space. Room to move around. And good food to eat. It worked well.

“I miss ‘em, Rocky. Especially those kids.” She giggled to herself as she thought back. “They were so adorable.”

“Yeah. Yeah they were.” He nudged his sister. “And now we’re here and taking care of Bill and Julie.”

Li nodded. “I know. I know.”

A voice chimed out from the farmhouse. “Rocket! Lightning! Come on doggies!”
Rocket and Lightning looked to the farmhouse. Their rich brown coats glistened in the sun.

“Race ya!” Li huffed and sprinted to the farmhouse. Her tail spun round as she sprinted forward with Rocket right behind her. The two dogs arrived at the porch together and pranced around their new, loving owners.

Cry Wolf

2009-03-29T12:59:00.000-07:00

The airport’s speakers spat information out to the waiting patrons as flights arrived and departed in the Austin Airport. Warnings about leaving bags unattended bookmarked the announcements and shite music drifted around in between. The conditioned air swirled as the din of conversations filled what little space there was left.

It was driving her crazy.

“You ok?” A man smiled at the woman next to him as she dug her nails reflexively into her knees. “Don’t like flying?” The man smiled a wide, kind smile and smoothed down his tacky, “I travel for a living” tie.

Fine, thanks. Say it, Charlotte. Just fucking say it. Speak. Get it over with.

The woman gulped and whispered, “Fine, thanks.” She didn’t smile, but felt that it would help sell the deal and get him off her. Or, make him think she was in need of conversation. She thought about it a moment, then decided to leave it there and act as if she gave a crap about the plane passing the window. She craned her neck, then checked her watch.

“To help us maintain a safe and secure environment, please keep an eye on your baggage at all times.”

Charlotte Cabbot Miller was not used to acts of kindness nor did she expect them, which was good because she never saw any. Ever. She was fine with whatever life dealt her. Except idle chit-chat from strangers. She liked strangers to remain just that - strangers.

“I’ve seen you somewhere. Sure of it, though I’m sure it sounds like a line.” He chuckled. “AH!,” he exclaimed suddenly. He slapped his knee and pointed. “Chuggin’ Monkey! That’s it.” He pointed. “I live right around there. I think I’ve seen you around there and at your apartment complex. We’re neighbors.” He chuckled.

The Chuggin’ Monkey. Neighbors. What were the odds.

Charlie ground her teeth together and mustered a smile. “Small world.” She fought against the smell of his cologne. It was thick in her nostrils and his odor made her slightly ill. She hated to think what the plane ride would be like.

“Passing though?” He turned to face her and she shivered inside.

“Yeah. Quick trip to Austin.” She crossed her legs and rested her head on her hand letting her dark tresses drop in front of her face. She closed her eyes and ended the conversation. Easy enough, she thought.

“Yup…sleep’s the best thing to combat the wait. You take care now…”

Charlie heard him shift back around in his seat and felt sleep overtake her. She had not slept since the night before and the day ahead was packed for sure. She was worn out and dizzy with sleep depravation. A little nap might do her good. Cat nap.

The last thing she remembered was the smell of barbecued meat coming from the small restaurant near the gate. It smelled delicious. So delicious. So…meaty and sweet.

Running. Chased. The smell of trees and water and animals and…
So close. She could taste it. The meat. Feel the water. The mist hitting her nose. The scent. Delicious. Close. Breathing. Closer still. A stumble and fall and she’s on him. He turns and his face his full of delicious….

Charlie awoke to the cheap travel suit man’s voice. “This is us, Miss. Better get awake.”

Charlie opened her eyes and averted her face from the man’s gaze. Just in case. She muttered a few idle words of thanks and stood and stretched her calves. Her shirt rose slightly and she caught her kind stranger peeking at her pale belly. Innocent enough, she thought. She smoothed down her skirt.

“See you later.” She nodded curtly and snatched up her bag, moving towards the gate before he had time to collect his gear or make future, on board plans with her. The sooner she was away, the better. She just wanted to be home. Home where it was safe, sound and above all away.

The flight was uneventful. She watched a movie on her laptop, but wasn’t sure what it was about after it ended. Her mind was elsewhere. Other places in Austin. Down deep. She shook her head and her hair fell around her face keeping her secluded.

She licked her lips and bolted from the plane as soon as she had a chance. She pushed past people as she moved up the gates gangway, then moved with grace and speed through the airport to the claim. Another hazard.

More avoiding the man in the cheap travel suit as she waited for her bag and more rapid movements and pushing when her bag finally cleared the shoot. She needed to be outside. Needed to feel air on her skin and in her nose. Not processed, stink filled air, but clean and fresh air.

She strode through the doors as they opened and drew in a deep, refreshing breath. Free. God, the air smelled wondrous.

“Share a cab?” The man in the cheap travel suit slipped up next to her on the sidewalk.

Dear LORD! He was here again? She needed to end this now. And never go back to the Chuggin’ Monkey ever again. She slid her hand over her head and looked at him.

“I’d like to be left alone. I’m sorry.” She blinked.

The man held up his hand and bowed his head. “Ok, sorry. We’ll part ways. I didn’t mean to bother you. Take care.” He smiled a wide, friendly smile and moved away toward the line for cabs.

Charlie watched him go, then felt a wave of sorrow pass over her. Regret drifted in around the edges. He was a nice, polite man. He could have been ok with the whole thing. Part of her life. Understanding of her unique situation. She watched the cab move off and hung her head low. “Shit,” she whispered as she snatched up her bag and slowly made her way to the cab line.

She was fooling herself. She’d never have a normal relationship. Who could be in a relationship with a werewolf?

Charlie woke up the next day and made her way to the window to see what the day had in store for her. The sun was bright and the sky was blue. It was lovely and she made up her mind to venture out and take part in the beauty of the day. She scratched her thigh through the sweats she wore and let her mind wander as she stared into the blue water in the far off ocean.

Werewolf.

How had she made it this far alone in this world being what she was? She was amazed. Years of hiding and hunting on her own. Making her way through life with this affliction. This sorrow. He brought her hands up to her face and touched it softly. The change would come suddenly at times and slowly at others. Was she mad? Insane?

She dropped her hands to her belly and up to her ribs. Below the skin, the bon would shift and change. Grow and crack and alter her. She felt the bone below the flesh, then dragged her nails over the skin that would grow hair and go from pale to dark as the transformation took place.

Her tongue drifted over the teeth in her mouth that would grow and go canine. Long for the rip of flesh and meat of the kill. Had she managed to keep the kills to animals? To the sad pets of the city that would give their lives so the cities inhabitants could keep theirs?

Something chimed in her head as her hands dropped to her sides. She was hungry now.

The chime again. The door bell.

Charlie snapped her head away from the window and made her way to the front door of the small apartment.

“Who’s there?”

“Mark.”

Charlie smiled a brief smile and turned the lock and slipped the chain free. She hadn’t seen her neighbor in ages. She swung the door open. “Hi.” This was the one person she enjoyed seeing.

“Hey there. Did I miss coffee?” Mark smiled.

“Nope. Just making it. Come in.” Charlie swung the door open and Mark made his way inside. He looked sickly and ill, like always. Charlie latched the door and bolted it again, then moved with him back towards the kitchen.

“How was the trip?”

“Ok.” Charlie filled the pot with water, dropped it onto the stove, and brought the burner to life. “People...you know?” she shivered slightly.

“And any...incidents?” Mark pulled out the kitchen chair and took a seat. He was the only one who knew her secret. The only one that could understand. The disease that ravaged his body filled people with fear as well. They avoided him. They wanted to avoid him and contact with him.

“One.” Charlie took a seat and peered at him through her hair.

Mark nodded and snuck a look at her when she turned her head. The thin shirt. The low slung sweat pants. The lithe body beneath. “Did anyone see you?”

She shook her head no. “I managed to avoid that.”

“Good.” Mark smiled. “I’ve done more research here. I have some things we can try.” Things that will involve you being naked, of course.

To Charlie, he was Mark. the good friend. The secret keeper. But Mark knew the real story.

Mark the cad. The lecherous user. He had lied about so many things. Over the course of their relationship, he had lied about being ill, lied about trying to help Charlie, and above all, he had lied about believing her to be a werewolf. She was just another hot goth girl with serious mental issues and a need to be different. But, that was ok. Mark liked coming up with possible cures for her that involved him “helping” her cure this lycanthropy - naked for his pleasure. She would allow him access to her when he wanted to try anything that he could convince her would cure her. Take away her wolf side.

What a nut job. He watched her get up to get the coffee made and leered at her bare hips and nipples. A beautiful nut job.

“There was a guy in the airport. He knew me from the Monkey. But, I avoided him.”

“Good. We don’t need people getting involved. We’re too close to making you better.” Mark sniffed the air. Something smelled stale. “I found some passages from a Greek text. I think they might work if the moon phase is right.

Charlie smiled back to him. “Really?” Her voice was full of hope.

“I hope so. We can try tonight. I just need to find some roses and other things. We’ll create a paste and apply it to your skin. then, we can see if the incantation will work.

“Mark...what would I do without you?” She wanted to cry. She moved to him and hugged him tightly.

Mark wrapped his hands around her and pressed his face into her breasts. Oh yes, this was just fine. “We need to get you better.”

She leaned back up and wiped her eyes. “Thank you. You’re the only one who’s helped me.” She turned and poured the water into the French Press coffee maker.

Mark bit his bottom lip and stared at her backside. He’d help her alright. “Ted and Jessica and still away. It’s just us in the complex until tomorrow. I’ll get the supplies today and we can try tonight. Ok?”

“Please,” she said with a sad smile. “I need to be...normal.”

“You’ll never be normal, crazy girl,” Mark thought.

That night, Mark arrived with his fake cure. He had Charlie lower the lights and light candles. Charlie closed the curtains and slipped out of her clothes. She let them fall to the floor without care.

“Where do you want me?” She stood before him naked as the day she was born.

Mark held back a giggle. This was the best part of his week. He pretended to think, taking I her naked form. “Let’s see....” He stared at her form and took it all in. “We’ll put you here.” He pulled the sofa out a bit and patted it lightly. “Right here.” He acted as if he wasn’t interested as she made her way to the sofa ad laid back. He flipped through his faked notes and jumbled fake words, then pulled the rose oil he’d purchased earlier in the day out from his bag.

“Is that the potion?” Charlie’s voice was small.

“This is it.” He smirked. Potion. Mark poured some into his hands and started to rub it over Charlie’s pale skin.

“It smells good, Charlie whispered as she closed her dark eyes and relaxed.

“I need t put it...all over.” Mark’s heart was beating. “All over you, nutty werewolf girl. All over here....and here...and here...” His hands explored her everywhere. Oil was applied liberally - ten dollars well spent, in his mind. He slid his hands over her and apologized when his hand slid between her legs.

“That’s ok.”

Mark took his time and wondered if the other part of his plan was going to work as well as this had. Everything else in the past had, so he had high hopes.

Charlie lay still. Her eyes were closed and her dark hair fanned out around her head. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply.

“Ok...now, the uncomfortable part.” Mark snapped the cap closed on the oil. His hands tingled from the twenty minutes of rubbing and his groin tingled from seeing Charlie oiled and glistening before him. “To reach your animal side, we need to make love as the incantation is being read. I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”

Charlie whispered, “The only way.”

Mark nodded. “Yes.”

“Scumbag.” Charlie’s eyes remained closed and her breathing remained steady.

Mark swallowed hard. “What?” Mark cursed himself. He knew this was pushing it. He thought it was a good run, though. It looked like he was going to loose this special relationship with this little crazy werewolf girl.

“I said that you were a scumbag.” Charlie’s eyes opened and Mark gasped and stumbled backwards and away from the sofa. Charlie’s eyes were icy blue with dark pupils. They seemed to glow in the half light. “Magical oils and incantations.” She sat up and Mark stumbled back.

“I was trying to help.” Mark’s voice shook with fear. “I was just trying to help!” He turned and bolted for the door, but Charlie was on him before he took three steps. He felt her small hands on his shoulders, then felt his feet leave the floor as he was lifted and tossed through the air and back into the room.

He sailed gracefully though the air and into the closet landing with a thud and a pop.

“Helping me.” Charlie’s voice was a low growl. “My friend.”

Mark tried to stand, but was stopped by the fire shooting through his leg. He gripped it and felt the bone that had broken and torn through the skin. “JESUS!” He whimpered and shivered as shock slipped over him.

Charlie laughed and rolled her head on her shoulders. The candles flickered and long shadows danced over the walls. She wiggled her fingers and they seemed to grow. Mark though it was a trick of the light.

The stale smell filled his nostrils. He caught sight of the body a moment later. A man lay next to him in the closet. He wore a cheap, travel suit and his neck was a ripped open mass of torn flesh. Parts of him had been chewed through. Bone shone through skin and the look of terror was frozen on his face.

Mark gagged, then screamed for help and shoved back away from the body.

“He was persistent, that one.” Charlie arched her back and bones popped and cracked as she took another step forward. “Saw me walking to the apartment and just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I simply had to have him over for a snack.” Her limbs seemed to grow longer.

Mark watched as dark hair slithered from Charlie’s pours. His eyes went wide as her mouth stretched and crackled and her nose pushed forward and out. Out like a wolf muzzle.

Charlie smiled a wide, grotesque smile and sharp teeth glistened in the darkness. She was a monster. Strong arms reached out for Mark and claw tipped fingers bit into the skin of his chest. Broad shoulders blocked the candlelight and the hair that framed the terrible face hung into his eyes.

Mark cried out for help that would never come.

The smell of the ocean air on Charlie’s clothes made her happy. She’d spent the day cleaning and dropping some things off there in the ocean water and the exercise had done wonders for her outlook. She thought back on the bags of Mark and the cheap suit spinning from her strong grip. The arch of their decent into the ocean below. How they sank into the cold water - the rocks within them dragging them below the surface and out of sight. The afternoon was a dreaming drift of sun and wind and the ocean. She’d even managed to fine time to read a book.

She had waved at Ted and Jessica from her chair in the sun as they made their way out to coffee, but had turned down their offer to join them. She’d had enough human interaction for one week.

Watcher

2009-03-28T20:54:00.001-07:00

“The sun shone in the sky.” He frowned. The phrase didn’t seem right. “The sun was bright and hot....and wet.” He shook his head and tossed his pen across his room like a child. This was an impossible task. Why hadn’t he started it ages ago when he had time? He had so much time to complete his task and now it was all gone and the whole situation was hopeless . Desperate. “Write a bloody NOVEL in a day?” He frowned and read over the requirements for the paper again. It might as well be a novel. He stood and moved to his window as the sun shone through the window as if to mock and tease him. That’s when he saw his first, bare breasts.
His seventeen year old mind froze, but his body acted with ninja-like quickness as it ducked down low to avoid being seen. He shuffled his feet and got his head between the plant on the sill and her - his neighbor and fellow student Lisa Tate. He stared, taking in the supple flesh and didn’t even want to blink for fear of missing a single second of this splendor. Why was she wandering through her room without clothing? He took it in, scared to think about it too much for fear it would break the spell and send this vision spiraling back to the mists of fantasy.
She was beautiful. Pale with dark black hair tumbling over her shoulders. A towel was wrapped around her full hips. He stared through the plant and his mouth fell open as his knees burned. It seemed like minutes, but it was most likely seconds before she disappeared back into her bathroom to complete whatever task she had started.
He stood slowly, turned, and moved back to his desk. He took another pen out of his pen cup, stared up to the ceiling for a minute, then put pen to paper without thinking. His words flowed from mind, to hand, to pen to paper. Several hours later, he had his story - written in hours instead of weeks. His final grade was A- for spelling and grammar.
Years slipped by. He dated, but nothing lasted more than a few months. He wrote and the stories grew darker and longer. The original tale spun after seeing his nubile neighbor was filled with magic, light and love, but now his stories were filled with fear and hate and sorrow. The protagonists that fought evil now caused evil in the worlds he created. They reigned over others and made their lives difficult and sad.
And the watching continued.
Now a man, he developed schemes to see others in their natural states. At first, all those years ago, he wanted more nudity and sex to fuel his passions. He’d watch as women changed clothing and went about their night time rituals and filed the memories away for his private pleasures later. He caught couples in the act of lovemaking and joined them through the windows of their homes. Watching them in their most intimate moments. But soon, that became a bore. It was always the same. Nude, they would go about their duties. Alone, he’d watch them. The magic wore off of that like it had his stories long ago.
His first camera made things more interesting. He saved and scrimped to buy it and spent hours walking with it and taking photos. The film process was slow and drove him mad. When he sold his film camera and purchased a digital camera the light in his life returned.
He’d move through the days snapping photos of others going about their work and play and would spend his nights going through the photos and categorizing them into groups. Mothers would play with their children, people would work their dreadful jobs, and he would document everything - a hidden presence in their worlds. A God.
He’d look down on them and observe their lives, making comments to himself as he did so.
“Do you really need that burger, luv?” Click.
“I wonder how much you get paid, my boy?” Click.
“I love you.” Click.
One day, he found himself at the shipyard. Naval ships bore their flags and officers and enlisted men went about their duties. He slowly walked past the base with their posted signs and warnings, his camera swinging around his neck. His eyes narrowed as his fingers slid over the camera’s surface. He paused as several men wandered past on the other side of the gate. Surely, he wasn’t supposed to be here. This was military. Secret. His heart raced at the thought of snapping a photo. What would they do if they caught him? What if they thought he was a spy or terrorist? A slow smile crossed his face as he gripped the camera a little tighter.
The fence spun on down the walkway and wire topped it neatly all the way. At one point, the fence dropped down the hillside. From there, he’d have a shot at the whole base and the ships beyond. His pace grew quicker and his smile wider as he made his way to the dip. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he licked his lips and eyed the base. Not since his accidental view of his neighbor had he had this feeling of need and exhilaration.
The fence dropped off down the hill as the road curved up and to the right.
He stopped, brought the camera up to his eye quickly, and started shooting.
Ships.
Men walking.
Jeep.
Fence warning sign.
The barbed wire.
The sun shining off the windows of the buildings below.
The angry looking face of some man watching from the strip of road on the other side of the fence down below. The man stomped towards the fence .
He dropped the camera to his chest and eyed the man walking his way. Without a thought, he turned on his heel and started walking away briskly. He didn’t see the angry man wave his hands at the dog that had made it’s way under the fence. “Get along, ya mutt! Off with ya!”
He reviewed the photos later and was thrilled with his coup. He was right there, taking photos of everything and they couldn’t stop him. He didn’t ask permission. He just took it. He smiled to himself and leaned back in his chair. Where would he go tomorrow? A bank, perhaps? He could take a picture of the tellers and the vault. What would they do? There was nothing posted stating that one could not take photos within the banks walls, so what could they do?
His smile widened as he leaned forward to review the photos a second time.

Banter

2009-03-28T20:34:00.000-07:00

The quiet hum of the restaurant echoed off the bare walls and floors growing louder as it moved towards the front, but softer as it moved t the back. Jennifer and Mark Cooper knew this. They always sat in the back.
They always ordered the same meals as well. Jennifer going heavy with steak, potatoes, mixed green salad and cake or mousse for dessert. Mark going light with the potato leak soup and salad combo, wrapping it all up with a tawny port.
They were known by name.
They ate at Cha Chili every Sunday. the small restaurant and bar was filled with locals on Sundays and it made for a cozy and safe place to eat.
They were not married.
Jennifer sipped her water and stared at the men at the bar like always. Her skin itched and she grew more and more uncomfortable as the evening wore on. She thought to herself, like she always did, and wondered if this would be her life from here on out. Alone and eating dinner with her brother.
He was equally agitated and sat with his back to the front of Cha Chili, choosing to ignore the masses as the ate. He had no desire to find someone else at this stage of his life. He’d give it time. That’s what he needed. Steve was gone, but still painfully there in his life like a ghost. He’d need to exorcise that spirit before finding another heavenly body to share his life with. He grinned to himself as he watched his sister. He knew what was on her mind. Ever the drama queen.
He blurted the words out before he had a chance to think them through. “Drama queen.”
“What?” She broke the stare and locked eyes with Mark. “Did you just call me a drama queen, you queen.”
“God, how smart.” Mark sipped his port. “You’re twenty-five and have managed to wall yourself up and out of life and into that school of yours. You’re smart and sweet and good looking...so I’ve been told.” He smiled. “Yet, you stare at all those guys every week and practically vomit if one happens to stare back, let along TALK to you.”
Jennifer narrowed her eyes. “Whatever.”
The din grew louder as a small group of people poured into the front doors.
“I need more friends my age is all.” She slid her fort into her cake, sighed then brought the delicious chocolate to her lips.
“You need to shake it off and get back in the game. You’re a doll and have nothing to fear from the likes of that crowd.” He dropped his head backwards slightly.
His sister blushed, though no one in the place had noticed the gesture. She rolled her eyes and took another fork full of cake. “Speaking of getting back in the game - how’s work going?”
Jennifer knew that would sting. She wanted it to.
“I mean, it didn’t seem like things went as planned?” She took another bite of cake. “Sorry I was right.”
Mark ignored her. “You go to the gym, work your little tush to the bone, then fork-feed cake, ice cream and cookies in like some strange child's toy. Work Out Jennifer.” He smirked.
Jennifer watched as a tall man at the bar removed his coat and slid it over the back of his chair. She licked frosting from the corner of her mouth, her dark eyes drifting over his shoulders and over his strong jaw as they made their way to his blue eyes.
Mark assumed she was pining away for someone, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t really looking at anything. She was thinking about wether she should say what was on her mind or not.
She placed her fork on the corner of the plate as she dabbed her lip with the end of her napkin.
She’d try it yet again.
“I talked to mom today.” Jennifer looked at Mark and locked eyes. She felt her stomach drop as his smile faded away. She wanted to take the words back as she watched him turn his head towards the kitchen and away from her.
“Lovely.”
“She said hello. I told her I’d tell you.”
Mark nodded. “Ok.”
Silence flooded in around the two of them. The three year difference in their ages seemed to flip - Mark seeming younger and more fragile than she could ever be.
“You’re really never talking to her again?”
“I doubt it.”
“It seems silly at this point. I mean, she....”
“Jenn.” Mark looked back in her direction and held a hand up. He sipped his port and finished it, placed the glass on the table and slid the glass over the table cloth.
Jennifer dragged her fork over the small spot of frosting on her plate.
Mark’s eyes found hers again and he mustered a smile.
Jennifer dragged her hand over her forehead.
Time raced through Mark’s mind as he drifted back to when Jennifer was twelve and he was fifteen. She desperately tried to make things right. To keep everyone happy. She made Herculean efforts to keep the piece and keep the family together. Strike that. She was more like Sisiphus.
Jennifer’s eyes welled with tears.
“Hey.”
Jennifer blinked the tears away and gulped out, “What?”
“Still like those silly little....toy box things?”
“Gashapon?”
“Sure.” He smirked.
“Yeah.” Jennifer could tell that he was done with the mother talk. He was always done with it before it even started.
“I still remember that day you got me busted. When I brought you into the City to that store to get them. Like a hour long bus ride.” He laughed. “How Mom and Dad said that I shouldn’t have let you buy all of those things.” He stammered slightly when he mentioned his mother and father in the same breath. “How much did you spend?”
Jennifer grinned and hung her head for a moment before raising it and giggling out, “One hundred plus bucks or something.” She laughed. “It was all of my babysitting money.”
“It was over a hundred. Like one-twenty.” Mark laughed and shook his head. “All these little boxes with toys inside. Jesus, it was a show. And your little ritual for opening them and showing them. You were so cute.”
“And, you gave me fifty dollars.”
“Mom did.” Mark grinned.
“I knew it was you.” She laughed. “You were so guilty over the whole thing.”
Mark shrugged the comment off with a smile.
“I still have all those, you know. All the little chairs and the figures. The little stands you built me for the special ones. Remember those?” She beamed.
“Out of Moms thread thingys - I remember.”
“Yeah, those spools. I have all that shit.” She smiled wide. “I have some of it out at the dorm. Mom’s holding the rest for me.” She scrapped at the cake bits in her plate.
The silence was broken by words that Jennifer longed to hear.
“Mom sounds good?”
Jennifer’s heart skipped a beat. She kept her head lowered as not to disrupt the thought. “Yeah, she sounds pretty good. She stopped smoking a while back. Did you know that?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“So...yeah, she sounds happy. I mean, you know, like she is in good spirits right now.”
Mark nodded.
Jennifer didn’t want to say any more. This was the first time Mark had talked about their mother like this is years. Ever since the thing with their Father and her. She’d let it lay right where it was.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m being an asshole...” Mark sighed and lifted his empty glass towards the waitress as she walked by.
“Another?”
“Please.” Mark smiled a wide smile and handed her the glass.
“She’s never going to forgive herself for the whole thing with Dad, Mark.” Jennifer reached for Mark’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
Mark fought the urge to pull away.
“She’d love to hear from you.” Jennifer winced as the words slid from her mouth. This line had sent Mark into a fury three months ago at this very table. “And Dad would have LOVED to her from HER as he was dying, Jenn.” She wanted to take the words back.
“Yeah.” Mark sighed and looked into his sister’s eyes. A slow smile crawled over his face. “Hey, that place is still open - the Japanese shop down the street.”
Jennifer pursed her lips.
The port was placed before Mark and the waitress held the bill between them as usual. “We ready for the bill?” She held it between two fingers and Mark snatched it before Jennifer had gotten her hand off the table. Another ritual that started when Mark and Jennifer each thought themselves the faster sibling. “Winner.” the waitress walked off laughing.
“I’ll buy you some more of those box toys and some candy if you feel like hanging out a little longer.” Mark slipped his card out of his wallet and dropped it onto the table with the bill. “I need this port to wear off before I start driving.” He sipped and winked.
“Sure, I’ll hang out a little longer.” Jennifer smiled and nodded. “Let you drop some more cash on me.”
“The perpetual student. And, a sucker for toys and candy. Guys should line up to date you!”
“Fuck off.” Jennifer giggled. “The GENIUS who knew you’d hate that job.”
“The job that paid for dinner, Cheap Date.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and sat up straight. “Oop...just your type walked in.”
Mark resisted turning around. “Not interested.”
“He’s gorgeous. Just peek.”
“No thanks,” Mark said as he sipped. “Hey.”
“What?” Jennifer’s eyebrows raised.
“I love you, Sis.” He shrugged and sipped, then whispered, “Even if you are a bit dim.”
The banter lead to laughter.

The light of his life

2009-01-31T21:31:00.001-08:00

He took in the scene for a moment. He never wanted to forget it. The cool freshness of it in his mind. The overwhelming feeling of wanting to commit every detail to memory. The way she looked. How she smelled. How she felt and tasted on this, the most special night of his life. The aura of beauty drifted over and around her like mist. She was a fine wine. An angel. Perfect in every way shape and form. Her curves filled him with a desire that he didn’t even know he was capable of. He was mad with the very essence of her being. He never wanted to leave her side.
“And, that should do it, Mr. Coleman.”
He tore himself away from her for a moment, looking from the window to the middle aged man across the table from him. “Um….thank you.”
“Enjoy it. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” The man stood and shook Steve Coleman’s hand, then handed him the keys to his new car.
“Oh, I will.” Steve Coleman’s smile was wider than it ever had been. He felt the salesman’s hand pat his back as he turned to go, but he didn’t look back. Papers in hand, he made his way to the door with an absent thank you tossed behind him like an afterthought.
He wanted to run to her, but he walked briskly instead. He wanted to make this moment last.
He opened the door and got behind the wheel, closing the door gently behind himself. He drew in a breath and inserted the key in the ignition.
The car roared to life and he felt complete.

Courtesy

2009-01-14T21:37:00.000-08:00

People walked through the terminal with a strange pace, Clara thought. They were not running, yet they had a sense of urgency that was frightfully apparent. They reminded her of ants. They moved with purpose and limited vision. She hoped she didn’t look like them. She wanted nothing to do with them. Nothing at all.
She re-read the line she left off on in her book.
“"I sat by the ships, a useless burden, though there are better in Assembly- so may this strife of men and gods be done with."
Clara frowned and thought about the line. Something in her heart sank. Her lip quivered slightly and she glanced up and through the window as a 747 rose off the strip and into the air.
“Clara Ponty. Clara Ponty. White courtesy telephone, please.”
Clara looked around and bent the corner of her books page down, closing it for later. She stood and brushed her hand over her leg to smooth her skirt before moving. She strolled out into the aisle and glanced around for the phone. Spotting it, she moved towards it with grace and calm. She lifted it from the cradle and listened as the operator rang through.
“This is Clara Ponty. I had a call?”
“Yes, one moment please.”
Clara looked around as two large officers moved towards her. She didn't panic.
“Clara?
“Scott?” Clara frowned. How had he known she was here?
“Hey, Baby. Long time no see.” His voice was bitter.
The two security officers grew closer.
“What the fuck do you want, Scott?”
“Have your bags been in your possession the whole time?”
“What?” She watched as the guards laid their hands on their guns, moving closer to her still.
“Has anyone else been in possession of your bag, Clara?”
A chill ran over her. “”Scott?”
“Checkmate.” The phone went dead.
“Hello Ms. Ponty? Will you come with us please?” The security officer’s voice was as sweet as honey. His partner stood to her side. His hand rested on his gun.
Clara dropped her book to the ground.

THE BOOGIEMAN: The REAL Ending

2009-01-02T22:20:00.002-08:00

The house was a mess, but that wasn’t what came to mind at first glance. There were other things that were far more noticeable.
Like the fact that there was blood everywhere. Blood on the floor, the walls – hell, there was even blood on the ceiling. Bits of gore clung to the curtains in the living room and more covered the walls of the kitchen.
A priest clutching a cross lay dead on the floor. He had three knives, two forks and a cleaver stuck in his back. That brought the body count up to three if you counted the two old folks I the barn – one strangled with a hose and the other pinned by his neck about thirteen feet in the air with a pitchfork.
Sheriff Cooper shoved his hat back on his head and narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re telling me that this was all done by…a ghost?”
“Evil spirit, really. Of my mothers dead lover.” The dark haired woman sat next to her brother and husband – evidently the last survivors of this attack of evil.
The Sheriff looked over at the two deputies and noted that they were still resting their hands on the butt ends of their guns, then retuned his gaze back to the trio. “So, this ex-lover was killed by your brother?”
“When I was nine.” The blonde man in overalls nodded.
“Riiiight.” Cooper nodded in return. “And, his spirit went into a mirror?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true, Sir. My wife and her brother were tormented as children, he was tied up by their mother’s lover, my wife cut him free, then her brother used the knife to kill the lover.” He held out his hand. “We went to her old house and that’s when she saw the evil spirit in the mirror. She broke it, I brought it back here, and he came back to life when I pieced the shards back together.” Concern crossed his face.
“And, his spirit was banished when we dropped the mirror into the well.”
Cooper narrowed his eyes. “Where it exploded?”
“Yes, Sir.” The woman stared with teary eyes.
Sheriff Cooper adjusted his hat again. “Ok…let’s get back to Father Mark.” He pointed to the priest on the floor. “The evil spirit did this?”
“Yes, Sir. After Father Mark tried to release it with the cross.”
“And, the evil spirit shoved all those into him?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I see.” He pursed his lips. “And your ma’ and pa’ in the barn?”
“The spirit did that, too.” The woman started to stand, but Cooper waved her down and she slumped back into her seat. The two deputies slowly slide their half drawn guns back down into their holsters.
“Now, that we dropped the mirror into the well, the evil spirit is gone.” The brother smiled wide. “We’re free of him, see?”
“Sure, son. I see.” Sheriff Cooper smiled and nodded to his deputies. They moved forward and handcuffed the two men as Cooper himself handcuffed the woman.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?”

The true ending of the movie THE BOOGIEMAN if it were a real event. In the movie, many people were killed, they get rid of a evil spirit, but I thought, “What about all the dead people? How the HELL did they explain them all away?” Just thought it was funny that they had NO problem dealing with the fact that there were bodies all over the farm they lived on! ☺

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Curry

2009-01-02T22:20:00.001-08:00

The smell of Indian spices filled the air and the bright lights aimed at key spots on the walls provided a soft glow that was pleasing on the eyes. . The chill of the outside was held back by the massive grills and the flames they gave off. Chefs cooked, the wait staff brought dishes out and the customers chatted and ate away at their meals.
The restaurant was packed. Tables were tight and the self-services area staged clashes between those waiting for chai tea and those trying to get utensils and glasses.
The tall, thin, dirty-blonde returned to her table with two cups of chai in hand. “Place was packed over there.” She wore spandex pants with a large sweater over them. A colorful scarf rested around her shoulders.
Her companion glanced over her shoulder, took the proffered cup of chai. “Thanks for braving the crowd.” She smiled and smelled the cup.
“Sure.” The woman sat and sipped her chai. She blurted out, “Thomas – he has real issues with this, of course - strong, assured women.”
Jessica had to think for a moment, then remembered the conversation that took place before Stephanie had left to go get the chai. “Oh, the game, right?”
“Yes indeed.” She smiled wide. “He had major issues with the game. He had to Lord over us – claiming that he was the best player and the most skilled.” She rolled her eyes. “Real issues there.”
Jessica nodded. “Seems so?”
Stephanie tapped the table with her forefinger. “He has problems with strong women. He can’t handle having a powerful woman in his life.”
“A lot of men can’t.” Jessica tore off a hunk of naan and dipped it into her sauce. She paused. “Did he say that to you?” She popped the bread into her mouth.
“Of course not. No, see, this happened when we went out the other night. I told him that he needed to turn off his iPhone. He was checking it and I didn’t want to carry on the conversation without him being present.” She sipped. “I said that he needed to turn off the phone.”
“Did he?”
“After a minute – yeah.” She laughed. “But, he made a stink over it. Said that it was something about work and people needed him or something.” She snickered. “But, he just had an issue with me telling him he needed to do it. Real woman issues.” She shook her head and picked at her food.
“Still seeing him?”
“Tomorrow.” She sipped. “We’re supposed to go out.”
“Well, that’s something.” Stephanie dragged another bit of naan over her plate.
“See, it all stems from his family.” Jessica leaned back in her chair. “He was an only child, right? His family was one of these “lovey dovey” families where the dad was making cakes and things and he put so much love into it that Thomas thought the world was like that. The whole family went around LOVING each other all the time. He thought that everyone he met was going to be as loving and nurturing.” She giggled. “Like some lamb?”
“No thanks.”
Jessica didn’t miss a beat. “So, here I am and he freaks out. He can’t handle a woman with power. Someone who’s not going to just sit and look pretty for him.” Unconsciously, she ran a hand over her face. She felt the wrinkles on the over tanned and rough skin there and her hand fell to her cup. Somewhat oily, her hair dropped over one eye and she brushed it back behind her ear.
The man at the table next to them smiled to the girl across from him and asked if she would like more chai. She asked for water and he excused himself and took his cup over to the chai container.
Jessica glanced around the room, then looked back to Stephanie – searching for something to say. She was somewhat frantic, feeling that the space left by the lack of words was going to swallow her up. Shove her back into some dark place.
“How was the party other than the game incident?” Stephanie blinked and waited.
Jessica smiled. “Fine, really. I mean, Thomas was Lording, like I said. But, other than that, things were fine, I guess. I mean…” She frowned.
Stephanie raised her eyebrows. “What?”
Jessica looked into Stephanie’s face – searching. Something flashed in her head.
Thomas wasn’t going to call her on that iPhone of his. She was sure of it. The party, the last words, and the promised call tossed away like some used tissue. It dawned on her out of nowhere. She felt defeated. A smile played at the corners of her lips as she looked at Stephanie.
“You ok?”
Jessica smiled. “You know what?” She slapped the table lightly. “I’m not calling him back. Not going out with Thomas again. He can keep his issues and his phone.”
“Oh?” Stephanie cocked her head to the side.
“No. He if has a problem with me being a strong, confident woman, then to hell with him. I mean, who needs that, right?” She laughed. “Not me. I’m not going to stop being who I am, am I?”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to. “ She glanced at the man returning with the chai and water, then looked back into Jessica’s bright eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t need that in my life.” She managed a smile. “Wanna go?”

Summers

2008-12-29T18:30:00.000-08:00

It was pretty much the best weather the City had all summer. I went for a run. That was nice. I showered and got back out into the sun as fast as I could. The trip down to Kelly’s place was amazing. I was going to take the bus, but the weather was too good to miss out on. I walked briskly, switching to the shady side of the street when I got too warm. My iPod was blasting RJD2 and I had a bounce in my step.
When I got to her place, she answered the door wearing shorts and a bikini top and drinking a beer. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders and her sun freckles looked like they had multiplied since the last time I saw her.
Her face was serious and calm. She slid the bottle of beer over her breast and whispered, “It took you forever to get over here. I almost gave up on you.” She held out the bottle and I took it.
“Sorry, I walked over.” I took a swig as she removed her bikini top and tossed it over her shoulder.
One of her neighbors wandered past her apartment towards the laundry room. If they saw her, they didn’t say anything.
Kelly turned and her slim hips swayed languidly as she moved down the hallway towards the bedroom. I followed her, watching as she removed her shorts and kicked them away. She was like a dancer – fluid and graceful. Her thong was next. She leaned against the bedroom door and slid it down her legs. “Come in. Close the door. Make yourself comfortable.” She turned and ran a finger over her small, tanned breast. She licked her lips and let her hand slide down between her legs.
She didn’t have to tell me twice.

It was pretty much the best weather the City had all summer. We all were hanging out in the park and it was just a beautiful thing. Tom had his drum and he played it while Cathy and Sammy danced.
I checked the time, took another toke, then said my goodbyes. “Gotta split. I promised Kelly I’d come by.” I brushed off my jeans and pulled on my shirt. “Later.”
I made my way through the park and scored another bag on the way to Kelly’s.
When I got there. Kelly was out in the back yard painting a sign that said U.S. OUT NOW. She had red paint on her cheek and looked so cute. Her dress drifted on the cool breeze her dark hair was tied back with a tie-dyed scarf. When the sun was right, I could see right through the dress.
“Took you long enough.” She grinned. “Out here painting these up all by myself in the sun, man. Not cool.”
I waved the baggie in front of her face and she whispered, “But I forgive you.”
We laughed and fell onto the grass – our hands exploring.
“Let’s go inside, Baby?”
We managed to get to our feet and move inside before anyone called the cops.

The sun was hot and warm and I picked Kelly up around 1pm. I heard her Father barking at her as I moved up the driveway. Wow - the guys voice carried like he was using a megaphone.
“And, where are you to driving to?”
I knocked.
“Coming!” Kelly’s voice was as warm as the sun. The door opened and she rolled her eyes and mouthed, “He’s such a bore.”
“Hello, Mr. Roth. Were you able to get out and enjoy some of this weather today?” I smiled. “Ideal for golf, right? Did you get your new clubs?”
Her father drifted over to the door and his face softened. “Well, not yet. Haven’t had time to go over and pick them up yet.”
“Well, don’t waste this day, Sir.” I shook his hand. “I’ll have Kelly home by…eight? I thought we’d just go for a drive and get something to eat.”
He arched his brow and smiled. “Well, like you said, it’s a beautiful day and it’d be a shame to waste it. Make it nine. You two have a nice time.”
We waved and walked to the car. Even with the windows down it was super hot.
I backed into the street and beeped the horn as we moved off for the day. When we were further down the road, I pulled over into the shade. Kelly looked at me shyly.
“What’s wrong?” She blinked.
I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She giggled and looked around. “You’re going to get us in trouble.” She blushed.
I gave her cheek a pinch and laughed. “You’re the ginchiest!”

The weather was ideal. Some of the best we’ve had in a long while, I tell you. It was a fabulous day for tea.
I walked up the path to Ms. Roth’s home and knocked. The sun beat down on my back and I began to perspire. I couldn’t show up looking like some ruffian. I removed my hat and wiped my brow with my handkerchief.
The door opened and Ms. Roth’s Father loomed before me.
“Well hello my boy. Right on time as usual, eh?” He smiled and nodded as he took my hand. “Come in before you’re baked alive out there.” He motioned me inside and I swept my handkerchief back into my pocket.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“We’re taking tea on the back porch. There’s a nice breeze today and the oaks will keep things cool. This way.”
He lead me through the house to the back yard and our into the garden. The sun filtered through the trees and the cool breeze raced over my forehead – a Godsend.
Then, I saw her. She was beautiful. An Angel. She sat up and turned her head towards me ever so slightly. She was a vision. Her skin glistened as she twirled her parasol and smiled in my direction. I blushed. He dress was a bright yellow and it reflected the sun’s bright light. I blushed again as I glanced at the buttons down her side. They were like pearls.
“Mr. Cole – I’m glad you could make it this afternoon.” She smiled kindly and her lashes flittered playfully.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you for your invitation.” I bowed my head and glanced over to Mr. Roth. He nodded and I made my way towards her. “Thank you…for making a place for me at your table.” I took her hand in mine and held it for a moment. The smooth silk of her glove sent shivers up my arm. We looked into each others eyes and held the glance for what seemed like an eternity.
“Now now you two lovebirds. We’ll have none of that foolishness here today.” Mrs. Roth’s voice sing songed from the garden and I jerked my hand back awkwardly as Mr. Roth bellowed out a laugh. “The neighbors will be talking. Sit. Sit, now.”
I smiled awkwardly and sputtered out a laugh as Mrs. Roth took a seat next to her daughter. Mr. Roth sat next to her and I took a chair across from Ms. Roth.
I was in heaven. I was so close to her - able to sneak glances at her and exchange sweet smiles. I was in heaven.
This was a fabulous summer. My best summer ever.

Plan B

2008-12-11T21:52:00.000-08:00

He stood in the darkness staring at the car as the frosty wind raced off the ocean and over his skin. Sand blew around his feet as the strap of his computer bag cut into his shoulder.
The Dodge sat in the middle of the little, four lane highway with the hood propped open and liquid slowly dripping out from the under carriage. Hazard lights blinking, the vehicle was passed on the left and right by functioning brethren.
“Piece of crap,” he mumbled as he pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. Thank God he brought it with him. This was the perfect way to top off his amazing fourteen-hour day at work. Perfect.
He glanced at his phone again. He’d been waiting in the cold for over an hour and the tow truck was due at any minute. The only thing he could think about was getting home and getting into a nice, hot shower.
A large truck pulled up a few blocks away and parked. That had to be it.
He waved, moving into the light. “Over here, Dude. Hel-lo!” Hopping, he waved and tried to get the drivers attention. “God damn….” He pulled out his cell and waved it over his head. The iPhone’s illuminated face might act like a beacon. He felt it vibrate in his hand as the small bells began to chime.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr Johnson? Our driver is there and he’s not seeing where you are.”
“I’m right across the street. I’ve been waving, but he doesn’t see me I guess.” He frowned and waved again.
“Oh, ok. Well, I’ll let him know. So, you’re across the street?”
“Yes, right ahead of him.
“I’ll let him know. Thank you, Mr. Johnson.”
He waited and a moment later the truck started moving forward and across the street toward him. He waved again, motioned to the car’s resting place, and then started moving towards it. The bag on his shoulder slide and he caught it awkwardly as he made his way over the small barrier and through the sandy bar along side the roadway.

Minutes later, he gave a final look back at his car before climbing into the tow truck. He glanced back through the window and muttered a curse as he fastened his seatbelt.
The tow driver hoisted himself up into the cab. He was a round man who looked like he was shooting for “physically unfit” as a look. His round belly was accentuated by his tight shirt tucked into his pants. His dark skin had a sheen of sweat and his hands were covered with grease and grime.
“Here we go, huh?” He smiled and the tow truck roared to life as his door slammed shut. “Where are we going again?”
“Clement street?”
“Right….right….that place. I know where that is. By 24th. I looked on the way here.” He glanced back and pulled the truck and it’s flatbed deadweight into traffic. “We’ll get you there and home, huh Mr. Johnson?”
“Sounds great.” He stared out the window with tired eyes and wondered if the driver was planning on slowing down at all before hitting the curve. He obviously had no intention of wasting time being safe. He took the hill and the corner at 45 miles per hour.
“Tough day, huh?”
“Yeah. Drag of a day.”
“I bet.” The tow driver laughed.
Malcolm liked his slight, Spanish accent. It was comforting and made up for the discomfort he felt from the man’s driving. “Yeah. I worked a fourteen-hour day and them this crap happens on the way home. All I wanted to do is get home and them….wham.”
“Wham.” The man laughed again. “Like my night. I had to drive down to San Jose, pick a woman up, and take her to Hayward.” He laughed. “And after I take you to Clement, I have to drive BACK down to San Jose!” He shook his hand and giggled slightly.
Malcolm mustered a smile. “Wham.” He was starting to warm up now – the chill in his bones giving way to the heat of the tow truck and fear from the man’s driving. He half hopped the car would be flung away, smash into the ground and burst into flames. Problem solved.
“Wasn’t part of your plan, huh? Never is part of the plan, right?” The man looked over to Malcolm and grinned a wide grin. “You never see it coming.”
“Nope, not part of the plan at all.”
“Plan A – Plan A didn’t work.” The man shifted and half stopped at a stop sign before racing on.
Malcolm glanced back at his car rocking on the bed of the tow truck, then faced forward again.
“What you need,” the man said as he looked to Malcolm with a wide smile, “is a Plan B.” He chuckled and faced forward in his seat. “Plan B always works.” The laughter built in the man’s belly and his wide smile was infectious.
Malcolm smiled and chuckled. “Plan B.” He thought about it for a minute – the oily smell of the truck’s cab filling his nostrils. He broke into laughter, but wasn’t sure why.
“Plan B ALWAYS works!” The tow driver patted the steering wheel.
The two men laughed hearty laughs.
Malcolm was surprised. He didn’t think he’d be laughing tonight. Of course, he didn’t know that the answer to his problems…was a Plan B.

Dinner Date

2008-09-14T23:10:00.000-07:00

She wasn’t raised t say such things. She was a good girl. Modest and lady-like. But, even that gave her away. Not quite a lady, just like one. Like something is similar, yet not quite it. The conversation had gotten sexy, but she liked it.

The wine didn’t help. She wasn’t a drinker, yet this – her fourth glass – was being put away without rational thought. The way he looked at her was frightening, but it filled her with heat as well. Simple things made her mind swim.

Would she like more salad? Oh, god yes – give her more.

How was the lamb? He made it just the way she wanted it – tender, hot, and perfectly seasoned.

She was lost.

“Well, I guess we should think about getting you home. You look tired.” He smiled that smile of his. The smile that made her melt. She felt a heat rise in her chest and wanted to jump on him then and there. She knew it was just the wine. Knew it would be a huge mistake to react like she wanted to, but, she wanted him and wanted him now.

“I should, I guess. Have to work tomorrow and all. You sure you don’t mind driving? I could call a cab instead.” Or, just sleep here tonight after you RAVAGE me!

“No no. No cab. That’s silly. I’ll drive you.” He stood and cleared the plates. He dragged his finger over his desert plate and turned. His finger slipped into his mouth and he licked the crème from it. Was he trying to make her crazy? If so, it was working. She shivered. “Cold?”

“Just got a chill.” She smiled. And rubbed her arms. She looked down and noticed her nipples pushing through her blouse and blushed. Jesus. She needed to get her coat before he noticed. Or, maybe not.

“I’m sorry. I can turn the heat up.”

“I don’t think I could take more heat.” She stared blankly for a moment. Then, trying to cover, she mumbled, “Well, more than the finger licking.” Again, a heartbeat passed, then, “And the wine. I just get shivers sometimes.” Her head was swimming. She drank far too much, but loved every moment of it. She felt lighter than air.

He moved to her and around behind her.

She looked up and behind herself as he slipped his hands onto her shoulders and rubbed softly. She closed her eyes and let her head drop as his strong hands pressed into the soft muscle and olive skin of her shoulders. His breath was in her ear now and she grew warmer. More aroused.

He whispered, “I suppose…you could stay here tonight.” His hands slid down over her chest and cupped them gently. She swooned. “I could…set you up on the sofa. Or…” He nibbled her ear.

Her hands dropped to her sides and found his legs. She gripped them and felt the muscle under the firm flesh and cotton slacks. Her hands kneaded his calves. “I’m not sure I should.”

His tongue slid over her ear lobe.

“Maybe I could….sleep on the sofa. That….might be…” She felt something stir in her belly as fingers found her nipples. The wine spun her head as she yanked it upright. Her balance fell away as the perfectly prepared meal rose from her belly. She couldn’t even get out a warning as she bolted forward in her seat and was sick.

He yelped as his tongue was bitten. Her head smacked his bottom jaw and clamped his own teeth on his tongue. His head jerked back and hit the pots that hung behind him as she lost her dinner all over the wondrous, white tablecloth that covered the dinner table.

“Oh, God,” she hissed as she pushed away from the table and raced for what she remembered as the restroom. She yanked the door open and dove in, knocking an ironing board to the floor along with some rolls of toilet paper and what she believed to be tools, though she couldn’t focus enough to be sure.

He mumbled, “To the right,” but, of course it was too late and she was sick in his hallway.

This, in turn, removed the romance from the evening.

Hours later after medicine, a cold compress, and some cleaning had been preformed, they sat together on the sofa in robes. Hair wet from the showers they took – alone – they sipped water and tried to find the humor in the situation, but it was still a bit too soon.

“I don’t drink often.” She stared into her water glass, then swept her hair away behind her ear.

“I figured.” He snickered and she followed suit. “Well, the hall is spotless.” The two stared into the hallway, then began laughing. He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

It wouldn’t last.

Brunch with Mother

2008-09-01T17:55:00.000-07:00

As the kitchen clock struck ten, the smell of fresh scones and bacon drifted through the small apartment. Warmth from the oven warmed the apartment and light streamed in through the open window. It was a perfect day. Unfortunately, today was brunch day.

David stood before the antique mirror in the bathroom and shaved, tapping the razor into the sink and trying to concentrate on both the conversation and not slitting his throat.His stomach growled as he hurried through the process.

“She won’t stay long. She never does – you know that.” He rinsed the razor, tapped the blade against the sink, then dragged it over his right cheek. He heard a slam from the kitchen and sighed, “Come on, Debra. It’s not that bad. She will be in and out of here in an hour. She’s just visiting. Like always.”

A crash of drawers from the kitchen filled the air.

David rinsed, dried, and applied lotion to his face. He walked from the bathroom and folded his arms over his bare chest.

“Debra…please. We can talk through this later, but she’s going to be here in a minute and I want to greet her clothed.” He smiled.

Debra returned the smile, but it was cool and somewhat transparent.

“I’ll make sure she gives more notice next time, ok? But, just for now, can we be civil? Please?” David ran a hand over his head. He knew Debra didn't like his mother - not many people did - but, these visits had to happen. "Just stay out of sight and you won't even have to deal with her at all.

She nodded and moved off down the hall, saying nothing.

David bowed his head, breathed out a long sigh, then moved to the bedroom to get dressed.

The woman at the table ate at the scone in her hand with delicate bites and spoke with a slight accent and venomous tone. Her hair bun was as tightly wound as she was all the time. She blurted out comments on everyone she knew during their visits and David sat and listened with disinterest. He didn’t even know half the people she spoke ill off during her rants. She sat upright and prim, dispensing ill will. He’d listened to his mother bad mouth everyone from his father to his sister to his horrible, gay neighbors and he’d had just about all he could take for one morning.

“And, you know how she is – all fluff and pink and horrid makeup!” She rubbed her arms. “You always keep it so cold here.”

David ignored the comment about the cold. “Well, she is your sister, Mom.” David grinned and finished his bacon. The coffee swirled in his cup as he checked the time out of the corner of his eye.

“My sister is a ridiculous BEAST of a woman.” She swatted the words away with her hand as if swatting a bug. “Enough about her. She makes me so upset.” She dropped the scone onto the plate and looked at her son with dull eyes. “So, this girl you said you were seeing?”

David looked at her and wanted to laugh as the thought of him somehow making Debra appear through magic appeared in his head. He shook it off. “She’s out.”

“Out.” His mother rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair with a smug look on her face. “Last time she had some sort of appointment and couldn’t be here either.”

“Well, you don’t give us much notice, do you?” David tried to remain polite.

“Your own mother needs to give notice? Schedule an appointment?” She frowned. “Well, nice to know where I stand.”

“It’s common practice – letting someone know you are thinking about coming by.” David couldn’t hide his impatience and his mother gave him that face that registered both hurt and anger. He’d grown to hate that face as a boy.

Just then, he caught sight of Debra slipping up behind his mother. She stood with pitcher in hand and looked as if she was bound and determined to empty it’s contents over his mother’s head.

David stood and deftly moved around behind his mother, snatching the pitcher up and spinning around to stand between his mother and Debra.

His mother gasped and ducked back a bit, catching her breath and blurting out, “What on earth is wrong with you?!” She frowned.

“Water?” David smiled wide, holding the pitcher high. He heard Debra slip around the corner. He moved back to the table.

Confusion showed on his mothers face as she declined. David slipped the pitcher back onto the countertop and shot Debra a look as she peeked around the corner smiling.

Debra smiled wide and her eyes contained the mischievous quality he’d seen far too many times before. She slipped around the wall.

He thought this would be a good time to end the visit.

“Well, like I said, mother, I do need to run. I’m sorry.” He checked his watch and winced. “I have to run down to the shops before picking up Marty.”

“I thought you said Marty was away this weekend.”

David remembered the lie he told on his sister’s behalf so she didn’t have to attend this little brunch extravaganza. “From the train.” I need to go to the shops, get my-“ He stopped and showed his annoyance by crossing his arms. “What? Do you think this is all some sort of…of con? Some massive running away from you?” He laughed. “Come on, you can walk down to the shops with me is you don’t believe me.” He shook his head with a chuckle and started clearing plates.

“Well, if you’re going to get her, maybe I’ll wait here and we can all have dinner together before I head home?”

David could feel his heart sink. Idiot. “It’ll be hours.” He turned to see Debra moving up slowly and calmly behind his mother with a sour expression. “You know, I’ll clean all this up later.”

Debra bit her bottom lip and brought her hand up high. Something was cradled in her hands. A dictionary?

David was across the room in a heartbeat again, shoving past his mother and up to grab the heavy book away from its arc towards his mother’s head.

With a squawk, his mother fell back into the chair and knocked into her coffee, spilling it across the table. “DAVID!”

David spun on his heel – dictionary in hand. “Present!” He laughed. “You reminded me.” He held the book up and started paging through it.

“You’re on drugs, aren’t you? I saw a program on this just the other night. There’s a singer from the UK that is on the same – heroin? I knew you were losing weight!” She stood. “You are on that or something else. You’re entirely off your ledge! Knocking me over like that!” She looked at her sleeve and grumbled, “Coffee on my new coat, David.”

David closed the book and dropped it onto the end table. He glanced around but didn’t see Debra. He whispered, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His mother stood and moved to the sink to wash off her sleeve. “David, you need to seek help from someone. A counselor of some type. Or, go to one of those rehabilitation centers or AA groups.” She rinsed her sleeve with cold water.

David noted the chill of the room increasing. He glanced around and narrowed his eyes.

His mother shut the tap off and looked around for a towel.

That’s when David saw Debra…and the knife. With cat-like grace, he leaned forward, snatched the knife from Debra, and yanked the towel from the refrigerator door. He slipped the towel in front of his mother’s face as he quietly slid the knife onto the counter. “Ta-daa! Towel.”

Eyes wide, she took the towel. “David. I saw the knife.” She dropped the towel onto the kitchen floor. “David.”

David tried with all his might to come up with why he would be waving a knife around his mother. Nothing fit. He watched as the color drained from his mother’s face.

“It…it was floating. Just there. Floating in the air, David.”

“Floating?” He looked over at the knife on the countertop. “Um…I don’t understand.”

“Floating in the air, David. Right there. Inches before my face.” She was white as a ghost - an expression David found extremely funny in this particular situation.

“Mom? Are you ok?” He frowned. “You know, you don’t look at all well.” He cocked his head to one side. “Mom…are…are you on some sort of medication? Is this was that conversation is all about?” David forced concern onto his face. He felt bad about the bait and switch until he remembered all the horrid things his mother had said over the course of the hour.

His mother blinked. “I’m leaving.”

“Maybe I should take you?” He patted her shoulders. “You look so tired. Sure you don’t want to come to the shops with me?”

Without a word, she hugged him and moved to the front door. Purse in hand, she looked back at David and shivered. “Say hello to Marty for me. Maybe we can all meet for dinner one night next month. Out somewhere.” She swallowed hard as she glanced around the apartment. She made her way towards the door looking around like a child on a Haunted House ride. She waved and closed the door behind herself quickly.

David waited and listened for the sound of the front gate slamming shut and his mother’s car pulling away before saying a word to Debra.

He looked at her as she moved through the wall of the kitchen pouting playfully.

“Debra, that was really over the top.” He tried to sound stern.

Debra’s voice was a whisper that sounded like velvet. “Oh David…I wasn’t going to hurt your mother.” She moved to his side and stroked his hair with a willowy, silver and translucent hand.

“She’s an old woman, Debra. She could have had a heart attack.” He sighed. “Really, that was just not right.”

Debra pouted harder and slowly drifted backwards. Her velvet whisper drifted to his ears as she started to fade away. “I’m sorry David.”

“Wait. Come back.” David sighed again and placed his hands on his hips. “Come on.”

Debra appeared behind him. “What?” She blinked innocently. Her hair cut in a short shag and her face was full and beautiful. Her hands moved behind her back and she looked coy.

David turned around and cocked his head to the side. “Just…be nicer?” He smiled sweetly to her. “Please? I mean, as mean as she is, she’s still my mother.”

Again, the syrupy whisper filled the room. “I’ll try.” She shimmered and a smile crossed her face.

David returned the smile and took a deep breath. He could smell her floral scent.

Debra’s arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed in closer. Her body rose slightly so her chest was at his eye level, then she slithered down his front. She floated an inch off the floor looking into his eyes. “Forgive me?” She kissed him and the room grew colder.

The two sank to the sofa. The shops would wait.

A picture hung in the hallway. In it, a woman dressed in a mini-dress stands in David’s apartment’s kitchen by a refrigerator – an older style, but in the same spot. The image was slightly faded and the colors have mostly washed away. “Debra Shelly Summers, Eastmont Terrace, Summer 1967” was written in the corner of the 8x10 image.

Wine 03: Rooftops and snapshots

2008-08-24T17:52:00.000-07:00

Note: Read Wine 02 First

Half the guests have gone now, but the wine still flows and the music plays softly as the hipsters become more like friends to me and less like pests. I’ve met several people over the course of the evening and I’ve had to eat my words. They are not douchbags. Far from it.

I meet night’s hosts - a man named Terry and his wife Joyce. When I offer to pitch in to help pay for the evenings wine, the host laughs at me and tells me to hold onto my money. Evidently the whole evening is some sort of tax write off and a chance to meet new people. Go figure. I do pitch in by washing and drying a set of glasses, not taking no for and answer. I also clean up the remains of a broken glass and take out the trash. Guilt assuaged, I follow my cheese girl, Michelle up to the roof.

I’m not sure where Steve is and I’m glad. I don’t need his words of wisdom right now. I slip into my jacket and move to the far corner of the roof with Michelle. The wind on the roof is cold and filled with moisture, but the wine coursing through my veins acts like an internal heater. We look out towards the park as a police siren and dog serenade us. Streetlights glow orange in the fog and I take a deep breath of cold, clean air.

“So, does that cheese trick always work with guys? Like some siren – you lure them to their fate with brie and sharp cheddar?” I’ve lost count of the amount of wine, but have a firm grasp on just how buzzed I am.

“Works every time. Men can’t resist the allure of a woman baring dairy products.” She shivers.

I remove my coat and she presses her hands against it as I try to wrap it around her. “No, you’ll freeze. Put it back on.”

“No, take it. I lose my gentleman card if I don’t give it to you. Come on. You’re dressed for summer in the islands.” I manage to work the coat onto her and she finally stops resisting.

“Well, thank you.” She smiles and sips her wine. "

We stare out into the night for a minute without saying anything. We rest out elbows against the roof wall and just stare. Finally, she breaks the silence.

“I’m not sure if my brother would approve of me being up here with some stranger.” She giggles and gives away the fact that she’s as buzzed as I am. “Inebriated and on a nearly deserted rooftop with a strange man. Not ladylike at all. We should have a chaperone.”

I hear Steve and bow my head, praying that he doesn’t notice it’s me in the dark. “Well, we have one. The loud guy back there. My friend Steve. He’s the one that invited me here.”

She glances back, then faces forward again. “I just see a couple making out.”

Lucky Steve.

“I’m glad he doesn’t see us. He has a bit of a social grace issue.” I swirl the wine in my glass and steal a glance at her. The light does wonders for her already magical look.

“I see. Not very pleasant?”

“No, he’s fine. We just have a strange relationship. I think he thinks of me as his younger, retarded step brother.” I smirk. The wine is in perfect balance in me. I’m happy and giddy, but not sick. Wine nirvana.

“Ah, I get it.” She finishes her wine and places the glass at her feet. I follow suit and place my glass next to hers.

I start to feel the awkwardness creeping in around the edges and try to think of something to say or do to drive it away. I reach into the left coat pocket and pull out my little pocket camera. I power it up and aim towards the park over the rooftops. “I have to document everything.” I switch to view mode and check the picture, then power it off and smile to her.

“Let me see it?” She holds out her hand.

“Sure.” I place the camera into her palm and watch as she steps backwards, aims the camera at herself, then snaps a picture. “Oh, the flash didn’t go off.” She turns on the flash and points it at herself again. The Flash goes off and her face is imprinted on my eyes for a moment. She’s really pretty.

“There. Now I’m documented as well. I don’t want you forgetting me.” She smiles sweetly.

I smile back and the awkwardness seems to drift away.

“I have to head out. Walk me down?” She slips out of my coat and hands it to me. We make our way across the roof and down the stairs, supporting ourselves so we don’t take a tumble.

“We leaving?” Steve walks behind us with a brunette on his arm. Her lipstick is smeared and hair a mess. “You kids have a good time?”

“Wonderful time, thanks for asking.” Michelle doesn’t look back. She grips my arm as her foot slips out from under her and I hold her up.

“Nice catch, champ.” Steve chuckles. “I’ll call us a few cabs.” He pats my back gently and winks as he passes me with the brunette giggling at his side.

“Thanks.” Michelle smiles up at me and smile back. We stand in the hallway and she moves closer to me. “I left my glass up there,” she says softly.

“I can get it.”

“I really think this is where you kiss me. The glasses will be fine up there.” She presses forward and I kiss her softly. She tastes like wine and smells like flowers. Lavender, I think. She wraps her arms around my back and gives me a little squeeze. I do the same and slide my hand up to the back of her head - not down to her backside - and run it through her hair. She moans softly, then breaks away first and I rub her arm.

Joyce's voice bursts from the living room. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” Laughter fills apartment and the spell is broken.

I’m not sure what to say, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Can I have your number?”

She rubs at her arms – still chilly. “Why?” She tilts her head. “Are you going to call me?”

“I may need advice later. You know, about cheese and things. I figure it might be good to have your number in case I run into anything I’m curious about.” I shrug playfully.

Michelle grins and looks around. She pulls a scrap of paper and pen from a basket by the phone and writes. “I knew it would come down to cheese advice. Men always want to use you for your knowledge.” She hands me the paper and slides the pen back into the basket.

“Need a ride?”

“My brother’s taking us back. He doesn’t drink.” She smiles. “Thanks though.” She bites her lip. "I'd offer a ride, but we're crushed in like sardines."

“No, not a problem. I need to head back with Steve anyway.” I sound like an ass in my head and I want to smack myself. I need to come up with something witty. Some closing remark of note so she’ll remember me.

“I have a cab. Mind is Jen rides with us?” Steve pulls on his coat and the brunette – Jen, I presume – sways next to him. Steve looks over to Michelle and I wince. “Did you need a ride home? We can all share the fare.”

Jen slurs slightly, but seems sweet. "Yeah, come with. It'll be nice."

“Thanks – my brother is giving me a lift. He drove us all over.”

Steve nods. “Cool. Well, goodnight.” He looks at me. “Coming or…?”

“I’ll be right there.”

I walk Michelle in to find her brother and promise to give her a call. Her brother shakes my hand and tells me it’s a pleasure to have met the Cheese Guy after all this time. Michelle blushes slightly and I take is as a good sign. I touch her arm and make my way out to the front door.

People file out and say their goodbyes and I manage to get a thank you and wave in to the hosts from a distance. I find it hard to leave. The apartment is warm and the smells of wine and food and candles make me think of holidays and parties from my childhood.

The buzz of the wine warms me as I make my way out into the cold, night air clutching Michelle’s number in my hand. I find Jen and Steve standing out on the curb and manage to make it to them right as the cab arrives. We pile in and Steve offers to drop me home first. Jen seems friendly and talks quietly about the wines she tasted as the cab makes it way through the fog.

Steve manages to remember the merlot and asks me if I liked it. I tell him it was the best I’ve tasted and he nods. “I thought you’d like it. You love merlot and that was amazing. I sent you a link about it.” He waggles his iPhone at me and I thank him, wondering if he’s changed or if I just never really saw him as the friend he really was.

God, I love wine.

Wine 02: Merlot

2008-08-24T17:51:00.000-07:00

Note: Read Wine 01 first

The wine glass feels heavy in my hand as I look out the window and across the street to the market where I got the now forgotten bread and cheese and I think about the girl there. I look down at my glass as Steve pours me another glass of wine. I look at him with a mixture of contempt and gratefulness.

“A merlot you’re going to love.” He shows me the label, but I don’t pay attention to what’s there.
“Am I?” I look at the contents of the glass with disdain.

“What is with you, James? Angry at me for not letting you sit at home with your books and self pity?”

I fucking hate you, you pompus turd. You and all these asshole, hipster douchbags.

“I’m just not feeling very social right now. The wine is making me tired and the crowd is a little out of my league, I think.” I look up from my glass in time to see Steve walking away with some brunette. He pours her a glass of the merlot and disappears with her into the kitchen. “And you’re gone again.”

“Sorry, I keep doing that to you, don’t I?”

I turn and face the hippy girl. She stares at me with big, gray eyes and pouts. “I guess I never got over the cheese stealing. It’s just hard to bare. But, I'm sorry to keep running off on you.” Her smile is enchanting.

I freeze up not knowing how to reply. I’m happy that I have not made a fool of myself when I see a man move towards her and slip his arm around her shoulder. I play off everything like the jokes they obviously are and sip my merlot with a goofy grin plastered to my face. The merlot is amazing and I frown and look at my glass before looking back at the couple.

“Is this woman bothering you?” the man laughs and hugs her to him. “She’s a menace.”

“I came from a broken home.” She removes her hat and places it on the mans head. “My siblings were all cruel monsters.”

“No excuses.” He adjusts the hat and holds out his hand. “David.”

“James.” I shake his hand and spill a little of the merlot on my hand. Without thinking, I wipe it on the side of my jeans and wince slightly as I think about the stain.

“The cheese stealer at the store.” She frowns and it looks real to me though I know she’s playing.
“I couldn’t resist.” I sip my wine and glance around the room for Steve. He’s nowhere to be seen.
“Oh?” The man raises his brows and cocks his head to the side. “Are you flirting?”

I laugh. My heart starts to race. While awkward, the whole of the situation is somewhat exciting.
“Well, I’ll leave you two it then. Sorry to interrupt.” He winks and moves away as quickly as he arrived.

“Well?”

I grip my glass so hard I think I’ll shatter it. “Excuse me?”

“Go on. I’m waiting.” She folds her arms and cradles the glass against her bicep.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” I laugh.

“I thought you were flirting? I was waiting for more. You were off to a good start before he arrived.” She smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were with him at the time. Um, all my best moves work on married women or women with boyfriends.” I try to play the whole thing off as I sip at my wine. Where the hell is Steve?

“David’s my brother. I’m not married and I don’t currently have anyone I refer to as boyfriend.” She looks back at the man and he waves his fingers towards us. “So, Cheese Stealer James, you were saying?” She sips her wine and levels her eyes at me.

Wine 01: Bread and cheese

2008-08-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

“So anyway, he just sits there like an idiot while she takes off all her clothes and dives in. The whole thing goes off as expected with her and Francois disappearing into the woods and those damn dogs chasing him off into the dark. I tell you, if I had a girl like her, I wouldn’t let her jump into a pool with a Frenchman. Especially one like – what the hell is that?”

He points and my eyes follow. The smoke from his cigarette burns my eyes and I rub at the left one absently while trying to focus my right. I scan the street and wave my hand in front of my face to get the smoke away. The Chinese food I’ve eaten makes my stomach gurgle and roil.

“What?” I cough. He doesn’t get the hint.

“That girl with that guy. Her dress is just blowing up and she’s not doing a thing about it. Awesome.” He flicks the cigarette away points again.

This time I see her. A woman walks away from us with a man at her side. Her dress is some sort of lightweight material that blows up with the slightest gust. I’ve seen this before. I mean, this is what guys look at as gifts in this world. The off chance you’ll see a woman’s panties as she exits a car or catches an off gust up her dress. And not the paparazzi shots of movie stars in magazines and the internet. The face to face – as it were – chance occurrence. As if the Gods above are rewarding you for some good deed you didn’t know you had done.

I raise my eyebrows as the wind catches her dress again. She wears a thong and her ample backside swishes from one side to the other as she continues down the street without trying to stop it.

“Wow.” That’s all I manage before Steve up and moving towards the store. I follow, like always.

Steve opens his arms wide. “Must be nice to be that free, you know? To let your ass fly free for all to see without trying to hide it away. I guess it is just a butt. We all have one. But still, it’s cool to see a woman just let it all hang out like that.” A tiny, Asian woman glares at him, but he doesn't care.

“Mine is nowhere near as curvy, round and perfect as hers.”

This catches him off guard and he looks at me and laughs hard. “Funny.”

We move into the store and start wandering the aisles in search of food. I’m not hungry at all – the miscommunication of the afternoon’s activities making me think I needed to be fed before the party. The Chinese food would have been gladly left for a solid deli sandwich.

“I’m not hungry. I’ll just grab a bag of cookies or something.”

“You’d bring a gun to a knife fight.” He laughs again. “Cookies to a wine party is classic James.”

I think of things I could say back. Not telling me what the hell is going on and blowing smoke in my face is classic Steve. I say nothing.

“You should get bread and cheese or something. That’s wine food.” He motions to another girl with his head and I look.

She’s wearing a delightful summer outfit. She’s very 70s hippy feeling and very pretty. Her blouse is flowing and her jeans tight. She wears sneakers and a fedora. She moves like a dancer - graceful and with purpose. I scan her body and run my hand over the box of baking powder in front of me for show. trying to look like I'm just a simple shopper. She’s very cute. Her full frame sways with each step and I feel like her hips are hypnotizing me. I move up her body and note the seeming lack of a bra. When I get back to her adorable face, I see that she's’s staring right at me. I smile clumsily as she smirks and moves off down row. “Great.” I look for Steve and he’s nowhere to be found.

I make my way down the bread aisle and before I even know what I’m doing and pulling a loaf of sourdough off the shelf. I feel ill and I’m not sure if it’s because of the Chinese food or because I can’t not do what Steve suggests. I just need t find a lump of fucking cheese and get to the party.
I pick up my pace and move to the cheese area. There are a few out for tasting and I slip a toothpick from the cup next to the tray and spear a wedge. As I’m bringing it to my mouth, someone says, “That was mine.”

I stop and hold the cheese inches from my mouth as I turn to see the hippy girl frowning at me.

“You totally snaked my cheese, dude.” She shoves her hat back away from her face and a strand of blonde hair drifts down in front of her right eye. She swipes it back behind her ear.

I stare not knowing what to do.

“Are you just going to eat my cheese without an introduction? It seems really rude.” She places her hand on her hips, swings her basket back and forth and narrows her eyes. “I mean, it’s very forward of you, yeah?”

I glance at the cheese and she laughs. Her small breasts bounce and I think I’m in love. I watch as she takes a toothpick, spears a small cube of cheese, and pops it into her mouth. “Fine. Go ahead and take it. But I’m not sure if I can trust you ever again.” She smiles and wanders off with basket in hand.

I slide the cheese into my mouth and watch her walk toward the checkout. She looks back and smiles wide as a hand strikes the center of my back. I wince and turn to see Steve smiling with that I told you so smirk of his.

“Bread and cheese. Good call. Get this one and let’s roll. We’re going to be late.” He picks up a wedge of some yellow cheese wrapped in plastic and lays it on top of my bread, then heads off towards the checkout.

Better

2008-08-24T14:31:00.001-07:00

“The sun was bright and the sky was so clear this morning, Sonnie. Did you see it?” Angie Lyst smile brightly. It always made Sonnie think of an elf or pixie. “I wanted to just lay down in it all day. Curl up and sleep.”
Sonnie nodded and slid her sunglasses on. “Yeah, it was lovely.” Her olive skin had goose bumps now as the fog rolled over the City and small drops of dew-like moisture started to cover things. The sun fought hard, but was loosing the battle. “I wish we got out sooner. Sorry.”
The small coffee shop was busy and people moved in and out like ants. The outdoor table seemed like a good idea 45 minutes ago when the sun was unhindered by fog, but now Sonnie regretted the choice. She looked down at her arms again, adjusted her blouse, then looked over at Angie blankly. She enjoyed the time with Angie. She didn’t have to talk much. She liked just listening from time to time.
Angie sipped her coffee and shook her head. “Not a big deal.” Her hair was clipped at the sides and it made her look even younger. “I got Ron’s card. It was nice of him to try to…say he was sorry. Or whatever he was trying to do.” She shrugged. “Sounds like people are still miserable there. Horrible sweat shop.”
Sonnie was half listening. She removed her glasses and stared at the woman talking on her phone. “Does she have to talk so loud? I mean, she’s not talking through a fucking tin can on a string.” Sonnie glanced around her and noted that others in the coffee shop were staring as well. “We should all get together and drop that cell into her latte.”
Angie looked over at the woman and then back to Sonnie. “She just doesn’t know.”
“What were you saying about Ron?” Sonnie leaned back in her chair. “That he’s a prick?” She grinned.
Angie looked at her and swooned. She still had a little crush on Sonnie. Her almond eyes and smooth skin. A sweet crush. Like one you’d have on a puppy or something. “I was just saying he wrote a nice note after all that stuff happened. I mean, at least he made an effort.”
“I guess that’s something.” Sonnie slid a hand over her side. “I wish I recorded you going off on him. That was beautiful.” She giggled. “I didn’t know you could curse like that. Ron’s face.” She laughed harder. She had enjoyed the show immensely until she realized that Angie was truly out of control. Then the scene lost it’s humor. She had cried with Angie was dragged out of the building and into the ambulance. She shook her head and tried not to think about it.
Angie blushed. “I usually don’t, but he shouldn’t treat people that way.” She sipped and collected her thoughts. “When I went…all loopy? And ate that money and said all those things to Ron.”
“And dumped the copier on the floor and broke the coffee pot while saying everyone needed to e treated like humans and not cattle? I remember something about that, yes.” Sonnie smiled. They had talked through the events that lead up to Angie going “bat-shit-crazy” and it was an open forum for discussion now that the therapy sessions were chilling Angie out. “What about it?”
“I don’t think anyone but you got it, really. The fact that I wasn’t crazy BEFORE working there.” Angie frowned and thought for a moment. “I think they still don’t understand or think it was other pressures that caused it. You know?”
“I think more know than you think. We’ve talked about it some.” Sonnie shrugged. “People are rather complacent, however. I’m not sure they know it’s not the same everywhere. I mean, work is still work even at my new gig, but I don’t feel like burning the place down.”
“Well, you got out.” Angie smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Well, I just don’t want to play those games anymore. They treated you horribly. You didn’t deserve that.” Sonnie finally lost it. She looked over to the cell phone lady and waved at her. “Could you please be a little more quiet? Just a bit?” She made a motion to the others seated around them.
The woman was startled and looked at Sonnie dumbly for a moment before making a wincing face when it became clear. She mouthed Sorry and waved. Her voice dropped to a softer level immediately and her face was bright red.
“See, she didn’t know.” Angie smiled her wide smile again and Sonnie nodded.
“Guess not.” Sonnie smiled over at the woman, then looked down at her hands. “I wish I wasn’t a bitch all the time.”
“You’re not.”
“No, I pretty much am.” Sonnie laughed. “I guess I just don’t have the same feeling about people that you have. I pretty much think they are all just fucking assholes for the most part. You have this up with people thing I just can’t get a grip on. I don’t know.” She sighed and looked out into the street.
“You were a total sweetheart with all my stuff, Sonnie. Right? You stayed with me and made sure I was ok. You took days off.” Angie patted her hand, then removed it quickly. “You were really nice.”
Sonnie snatched up her purse and removed her credit card. She was uncomfortable. Angie knew the signs.
“I’ll still think of you as some evil, Asian bitch if you want me to. I know you’re pretty attached to that.” Angie grinned.
Sonnie rolled her eyes. “Blah blah blah.” She held the check out to the waiter who took it after sneaking a peek at Sonnie’s blouse. “Your therapy tricks won’t work on me.” She finished the rest of her coffee as she watched the waiter walk away. Her eyes narrowed a bit, then she let her carnal thoughts go. “How’s that going, anyway? The therapy and all?”
“I don’t wake up crying anymore. My Dad and I are talking again. I’m even thinking about taking that position at TCC. The offer is still open.”
“Whoa, pace yourself. You’ll be a valid member of society again and won’t want to hang out with me anymore.” Sonnie slid her glasses onto the top of her head.
“I’ll still go slumming with you from time to time for free coffee.”
“Just for that you’re paying for the movie and popcorn.” Sonnie winked and reapplied her lipstick. Angie noticed that it happened to be right when the waiter – a talk, Greek looking guy with blue eyes and dark hair – returned with the check.
“Have a nice day, Ladies.” He smiled.
Sonnie dragged the lipstick over her bottom lip, pressed her lips together, then smiled sweetly to him. “Thanks.” Sonnie watched him stroll off again. “Greek.” She pursed her lips and made a little low growing sound.
“You’re hilarious.” Angie shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“What?” Sonnie tried to look innocent, but couldn’t quiet pull it off. “Come on.” She stood and slid her purse up onto her shoulder.
Angie moved along behind her as Sonnie made her way through the patio and out to the sidewalk. She pointed down the street. “I’ll drive.” Sonnie made her way down the sidewalk then stole a glance at Angie. She looked like a teenager. Small and tucked tightly into herself so she wouldn’t occupy too much space. She knew Angie was better, but also knew there was more to work out for sure.
“I want a drink too. Maybe one of those meals with a little box of popcorn and candy and a soda in a cute little container?”
“Sounds good.” Angie mustered a smile.
Sonnie grabbed the back of Angie’s neck and shook it softly, then dragged a hand over the top of her head. “You’re doing good.”
“Easy, you’re out of character. You’re being nice.”
The two of them laughed and made they way to the car.

The Waiting Room

2008-08-22T12:17:00.000-07:00

High ceilings. Tan walls. Slowly turning fans circulating the air. Several rows of frosted windows let in light, but do not show what is outside the large room. Those inside don’t seem concerned about the outside, if there is an outside at all. The room is quiet and somewhat still, thought some of the figures move through the room – restless as they wait. Jazz music plays at a subliminally low level.
Florescent lights flicker overhead and bathe the figures beneath them with an off white light. The inhabitants shift awkwardly in green plastic seats and try to get as comfortable as they can for the seemingly long wait ahead of them. The room is large and the rows of chairs are mostly occupied. Some figures even sit on the floor – perhaps more comfortable there than on the ridged, uncomfortable seats provided.
The murmur of conversation hums steadily, but rarely goes above a respectable level. The water fountain in the corner returns the hum of the room as a woman leans over and drinks from it. She has ample curves and shimmering blonde hair. Her lips purse as she laps at the cool water that jets from the water fountain. She is completely nude.
Something crashes on the tile flooring in the back of the room and heads turn. The man in the back raises his hand and waves. “Sorry.” He picks up a large, automatic rifle from the tile floor, waves again with an embarrassed look on his face and returns to his seat. He settles the weapon in his lap and glances at a slip of paper in his hand, avoiding eye contact.
A small, round man slips through a set of double doors and comes out to the tiny office area at the front of the room. The rooms focus shifts as he scans the group before him and adjusts his glasses before turning and moving to the metal file cabinet to the right. Eyes filled with hope follow him.
A few members of the assembly lean forward. Others stand and take a quick look at the slips of paper they hold.
The man removes a folder and slides the file drawer shut. He scans the group again and counts quietly. “…thirty…thirty-one….thirty…um…forty-five…” He sniffs and shakes his head, turns, and moves out of the office pen and back through the double doors.
Several members of the group moan audibly. Others curse.
“I don’t buh-believe this. Th-This is taking forever,” a slim man stutters and twists the knot of his tie. He wipes his brow with the back of his jacket and taps his foot rhythmically in an agitated manor. Something drifts past him and disappears into a shimmer of smoke. He doesn’t acknowledge it. “I mean – right?” He looks up to the nude woman as she takes a seat next to him. “Th-This is just sssilly. Wu-Waiting th-this long?”
The woman runs her hands down her thighs then leans back and crosses her legs. She glances at the slip of paper in her hand before shifting her gaze to the man. “Yeah, well….” Her voice is like syrup. There’s a tinge of a New York accent deep within it. She drags a hand through her hair, looks up to the ceiling and frowns, then bites her lower lip. “Uh, I guess. I mean, it’s been a while.” She shrugs and folds her arms over her bosom. Her skin looks like porcelain under the fluorescents. She watches as a man dressed in robes leads a horse past her and the stuttering man at her side. The man whispers to the horse in Hebrew, though the woman doesn’t have a clue what language it is. Why would she?
The woman’s platinum blonde hair falls in front of one eye and she resembles Veronica Lake. She whispers, “Pretty horse.” She re-crosses her legs and breathes out a sigh.
A man and woman kiss passionately in the far corner of the room. She wears jeans and a t-shirt and her hair is cut short and dyed pink. He wears a business suit and large, fuzzy slippers in the shape of bears heads – his feet slipped into their open mouths.
At the back of the room, a woman in some sort of armor space suit presses the buttons H and 4 on a vending machine and watches as a small, metal coil rotates slowly and moves a bag of chips forward. The bag reaches the end of its aisle then hangs for an instant before dropping. It gets caught on the way down between a package of popcorn and the glass. She grumbles and slams her fist into the machine. The loud bang makes heads turn again. The bag drops and she flips the door up and retrieves it. She doesn’t apologies for the noise. She turns and leans against the wall. “I can’t get enough of these. So good.” She pulls the edges of the bag and it pops open. She removes her glove and tucks it into her belt, then reaches into t with a smile playing on her lips. “Like a spicy, chille flavor corn chip. Pretty damn good.”
The zombie facing her nods and blinks his one remaining eye. His flesh is sickly grey and rotted to the muscle and bone in some spots. His clothing is covered with dirt.
“Yeah, those are good. Have you tried the Sun Chips, though? I think they are better for you. Less salt and a better oil? Something like that.” He wipes a bit of spittle from what remains of his lower lip. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” She crunches another chip, then offers the bag out to the grey figure before her. He declines a chip and she reaches into the bag again. “They’re pretty good too, but I prefer these. They aren’t that bad for you overall.”
The zombie nods and glances around the room. His eye drops to the slip of paper in his hand, then back to the space woman. “Yeah.” He nods absently. “Is this all metal here?” He points a rotted finger to the woman’s shoulder pad.
“Carbon core silicone weaves.” She nods and drops three chips into her mouth. “It’s lighter,” she mumbles through the chips.
Something stomps past. It’s eight-foot frame blocks the light for a moment as it passes. The thing cocks its head and sniffs the air. It’s eyes narrow and it crouches down to scratch it’s foot before moving to the far right side of the room. It takes a seat next to a brunette wearing bright red running pants and a sweatshirt with “Born To Run” written across the front in gold letters.
She looks at the werewolf beside her and shifts in her seat slightly to give it more room.
It looks down at her and slides its legs out to the side, leaning out and away from her a bit. Its maw is somewhat short and its nose is dark and wet. Its grey hair is neat and not too long. Pointed ears poke off of its head at the sides. I has broad shoulders and long, muscular arms. It opens its mouth and a row of sharp teeth glisten as it’s steel blue eyes lock on her. “Sorry, do you have enough room? I can move over a bit.”
“No, no – I’m fine thanks.” She smiles.
The werewolf licks its lips. “They call H38 yet?” Its looks towards the office pen.
“Not since I’ve been here,” she says as she slips the baseball cap forward on her head. The werewolf’s breath smells like meat, but she tries to ignore it.
He looks back to the baseball cap girl and his fingers tap on his hairy knee. “They called that girl with the baseball bat WAY before me, but I thought I was here first, you know?” The werewolf scratches its side with a massive hand. Claw tipped fingers rake through the fur there. “I guess that’s not how it works. Not sure what’s up, really. I thought it was pretty clear that I was here first though. But…you know.” It huffs out a sigh and holds up it’s hands in resignation.
The girl shrugs.
The werewolf nods and leans back in its seat. “Yup yup yup….”
The short, round man pushes through the double doors again.
Again, the crowd in the room comes to a hush and all focus moves to the little round man as he moves to the front of the office pen, this time avoiding the file cabinet.
A woman dressed in a business suit stands and grabs up her briefcase hopefully as a small S.W.A.T. team stands at attention next to her. Their leader waves his hand. “Shh…quiet down, people.” He holds up their ticket with a gloved hand.
The office man clears his throat and grips a small, silver microphone that sits on the desk at the front. He presses the button on the side and leans into it. “C89? C89, please?”
The room lets out many disenchanted, yet subtle groans of disappointment. All but one go back to what they were doing.
A woman with short, dark hair moves towards the office pen and holds up her slip. “C89 – right here.” Her voice is matter of fact and quiet. She slips past a small group of dogs and they all wag their tails. She slips past them and moves forward. Someone blocks her and she whispers, “Pardon me.”
A man covered in blood smiles at her and moves his paper aside so she can pass. “Sorry.”
The woman makes her way to the front desk and hands her slip to the office man. She smiles politely.
He checks the number and smiles back. “Good, good.” He slides the ticket into a slot on the desk and gestures to her. “Now, you ate a dime before, right?”
She nods brightly. “Yes. In a coffee shop.” She touches her stomach, then raises her hands and makes small quote marks in the air with her fingers. “It’s inside my body right now.” She smirks.
“I see. I see. Fine.” He motions to the side. “Ok, will you please step around to the gate? I’ll let you though.” He points and smiles.
The woman nods and makes her way down the aisle towards the small gate. She waves back to the waiting room occupants as she passes through the tiny, batwing doors and a few people wave back begrudgingly.
“Ta-totally unfair…” the stuttering man whispers as she moves out of the room through the double doors. He looks over his shoulder to the row of chairs behind him where an anthropomorphic dog sits reading The Three Musketeers. “Right?”
The dog looks up from the book and glances at the man, then to the double doors as the swing closed. He shrugs and says, “Well, what are you gonna do?” and then goes back to reading.

Rise and Shine - version 02

2008-07-13T19:07:00.001-07:00

Orange skies glisten and shine as a warm breeze drives the massive, prehistoric birds higher into the sky. Something wails in the dark forests to the north and black horses storm past me and shake the ground at my feet. My cool, brown skin glistens with sweet sweat as I toss my head back and feel….

“Rise and shine, Darla. Today is another wondrous cluster fuck.” The pre-programmed greeting used to make me wake up with a smile. I thought I was so cute. Now it just makes me mad.

The sheets pull off my bed and roll away and the R.E.M.brandt 2020 spins down and powers off taking my delicious dream with it. Sadness. I growl and smack my hand against the mattress. “I want to snooze!” I wail, but the computers know me too well and the LCD window goes from opaque to clear. Sunlight pours into the room and my eyes flutter. “Asshole computer.” I scratch my belly and yawn. I don’t want to be up and it makes me angry.

“Bacon, toast and coffee, Darla?” The voice is sweet and makes me even angrier.

“I’ll eat at work. Just coffee.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up to standing. I pull my panties out of my backside and make my way to the bathroom as the bed slides away into the wall.

“More sugar this time, please.” I yank my panties and t-shirt off and fling them back over my shoulder. TIDY scuttles out from it’s corner and gathers them up. It waddles off to the hamper hatch like some sort of club footed spider penguin. I stomp into the bathroom, pee, then I stand before the mirror. The sink slides out and bumps me in the legs with cold porcelain. I yelp and take a step back as I narrow my eyes and glower at my reflection. I squeeze my hips and hiss.

“You’re in need of more calcium and niacin, Darla. Shall I prepare a pill?”

I need to turn off the pee analyzer. I yank the sonic off the wall and run it over my teeth with an affirmative growl. I look myself over and sigh out loud. I pull the sonic out of my mouth and run my tongue over my ultra clean teeth. “Slip out the treadmill, Comps. I feel fat.” I frown and slide my hand over my right boob and down to my stomach. I squeeze it and then smack it hard. Jesus.

“I believe you are in need of toning, not weight loss. According to my calculations, you are within recommended weight allowances for your height, Darla. I suggest a regiment of toning exercises if you would like to achieve a better self awareness.” A small capsule drops into the tray before me and I swallow it down without water. Yum – calcium and niacin.

I roll my eyes and return to the bedroom to dress. “Fine. Do it, please. I’ll do whatever it is tonight after I get home.”

“As you wish, Darla.”

The closet opens and I scan the clothing coldly. I tap the hanger to the right and the skirt to my left, then kick the wedge my tan heels rest on. I stomp out of the closet and wait for the clothes to slide out.

I stare out the window as I sip at my coffee and grow later and later for work. The sun is large and orange in the sky. The bridge looks lovely, but I can only see part of it now that they’ve completed the fourth beach front office park building. TIDY works on my left heel, buffing out the scuff I incurred while exiting the bedroom. The coffee tastes sweet and delicious. Damn computers got that right for once.

“Check the calendar. Can I work from home today?” I bite my bottom lip and watch the Skybus drift by. It’s bulbous front angles in past the guides and its landing lights flutter. It descends by the park and people draw back as it comes to rest, then scurry on as the doors slide open.

I don’t feel like leaving. I glance at the TV and watch as someone shakes the Presidents hand – I don’t know who. Someone from the Middle Republic maybe? He has a beard. Large, armed A-Class Sentinels scan the crowd for signs of unrest or danger. Their metal bodies catch the lights and glisten – almost pretty.

“Charles Porter requested an in house meeting today to talk about the Coastal Shipments Requisition and Mary Johnson was scheduled for lunch at the Gate. Shall I reschedule?”

I place the coffee cup under the spout and wave my hand before the eye to refill it. “Call up a V.I.P. for me with Charles? See if he’s in the office yet and connect me if he’s clear.”

I move over to the wall screen when I hear the connection signal and the President disappears. A V.I.P. logo fills the screen and lets me know the connection is strong and secure and a connection clock starts as Charles appears. He looks good, as usual. Cleaned and pressed. His hair is cut short and his suit is patterned early deco. Nice touch. His Namecon is animated and alternates between Charles Porter and the Dobrý Dog Elektronika logo. It distracts, but he’s the boss.

“You’re a little late this morning, aren’t you?” He glances away to the right and back to the screen eye. “I see you’re still at home?”

“Can we postpone our meeting today, Charles? I’m really not feeling up to coming in. I can V.I.P. with you right now about the Invoices if you want to.” I drag a hand through my hair because I know he likes it. “Mind?”

He stares at me and then breaks a smile. “No worries. It can wait.” He frowns. “You ok, Darla?” Something moves in the background, but he has the narrow’s pitched up high, so it’s so out of focus I can’t tell what it is exactly.

I manage a smile. “Fine. I think my R.E.M.brandt just sunk me too low. I need to have it looked at.” I shrug it off.

He nods. “Ok, well, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Flying to China tomorrow, but I’ll see you the day after?” I slip my coat off as the smell of coffee reaches me. “San Francisco International to China via Chinair shuttle to meet with Song. Should be an easy one. He needs the process to roll smoothly and wants it done. I should be in and out same day.”

“Sounds good - enjoy the flight.” Someone off cam with long polished nails hands him a PDA.

"I'll try," I sigh out.

“Cheer up – talk to you later.” He sounds like he’s talking to his cat at the vet. So absent.

“Thanks, Charles. Bye.” V.I.P. goes dead and I drop my coat to the floor. “Thank God.” I draw in a deep breath. “Comps – reschedule today’s lunch with Mary Johnson. Friday at the Caff instead of the Gate if it works for her.” The Caff is her favorite and should take the sting out of the late cancellation.

TIDY snatches up my coat and moves off with it, but stops and returns for the heels I kick off in two different directions. Watching t try to decide which shoe to pick up first manages to bring a smile to my face.

“Shall I fix the bacon and toast, Darla, seeing as you are not going to work today?”

I think a moment. “I want a Poptart. No – two Poptarts. No bacon.” I pick up the coffee and gulp at it greedily as I watch three kids drift down the sidewalk out front on glowing red shoes.

Work doesn’t happen. I try to get a grip on he notes for my Song meeting, but the codes don’t match and I lose patience and shove them away. I’ll work on them on the flight. I start a comp for an invoice pattern, but loose interest so many times that I finally give up on work all together. I drink a glass of water and watch the people below walk by. They aren’t working, just moving along in the sun. I try to convince myself to leave the house, but I fail. I’m not sure I want to do anything today. I feel something tug at my sock and kick at it absently sending TIDY scuttling off with a string in a claw.

Steven calls and wants to come over, but he has “that look” in his eyes and I’m not in the mood for messing around right now. I wave him off and he’s a good sport about it. I play XB600 with him for kicks seeing as I’m not working anyway. I kick his ass at tennis with ease. The poor guy looks bored, but cheers up when I agree to play his strange little version of strip Thermals 4046. I excuse myself and change into a pair of shorts, t-shirt, hat and slippers so the game doesn’t go on for too long.

When I return to the wall screen, Steven is wearing a coat and hat. I have Comps dim down the window to black, grin and dive into the game. I instantly regret not wearing a bra as I bounce and dodge. I grip the control and clench the fist in the control glove tight. Swords and sorcery among the ruins, dragons on some lava planet, and two battles on giant water snakes with golden eyes. The graphics are so real that I scream when his snake lunges at mine. I feel ridiculous. I let Steven win and congratulate him standing naked in the living room. I figure I owe it to him. No need talk about how we say our goodbyes.

Hours pass and something like melancholy fills me up and I can’t seem to shake it. I feel dingy as I cycle the air in the house, then slip into my t-shirt and sweats. I make a standard call to my mother, but she’s golfing in Hawaii and seems distracted. I tell her about the China trip, but swear that I can hear her swing the club. She grunts something into her headset, then asks me to bring her sweet cakes and dumplings back. “You know the ones I like, dear.” She barks something at her bot. She seems so far away. It's always the same. Kiss kiss and she's gone.

I stomp back into the living room and stand before the blank wall screen. I can’t think. I don’t want to, really.

“Comps?”

“Yes, Darla?”

“Show me something beautiful?”

"Yes, Darla. One moment, please." Comps chews on it for a while. They are good at referencing what I’ve enjoyed before and within seconds they have cross-referenced everything that has caused a beauty response in me over the past five years.

The wall screen glows and a mist filled forest comes into view in rich, bold, DHD detail. I feel like I can walk through the screen. Ferns move ever so slightly in a small breeze. A fog of some sort dances between large redwood trees. The sound of falling water comes from somewhere in the distance and some dots of color can be seen among the foliage – wildflowers in bloom. I fight the urge to ask where the footage came from because I don’t want to know if it’s real or just some grand 3D experience render.

I sit on the floor and reach up on the table for the fourth Poptart of the day. My eyes well up with tears and I take a bite. Crumbs fall on my chest and bounce along the floor. TIDY waddles out and makes it’s way towards the crumbs on it’s spidery legs.

“Comps, turn TIDY off and put it away, please.” I don’t know why, but I’m somewhat sick of the little things like TIDY always cleaning and tidying up. “Turn everything off. The whole house except what I’m using right now.” I wipe at my eyes with my shirt.

Comps does what it’s told. The dishwasher closes as the last dish is loaded. TIDY tick-tacks it’s way back into the wall.

“Shall I leave the window open?”

“Dim it, please. 20%.”

The Beach Front Business Center fades away. I drop the last bit of Poptart into my mouth and face the wall screen. I listen as birds sing and the water babbles away. I close my eyes.

“Screen off.” The wall goes dark.

I can still hear the sounds in my head. The house is quiet.

I lay down on the floor and stretch my arms up over my head. My sweats feel nice against my skin. I can barely hear the skybus outside as it cruises by. I snatch a pillow off the sofa and slide it under my head.

“Comps – off off off.” I hear the soft beep chime three times and the computers go offline. The fans of the refrigerator sweep up for a moment before going quiet themselves.

I don’t think of tomorrow’s China trip. I don’t think of Steve. I don’t think of the Coastal Shipments Requisition.

I just listen to the silence.

Crate

2008-07-13T14:04:00.000-07:00

“This is Patrick and I’m Tom. I spoke with you on the phone.”

The truck’s lights cast strange shadows on the man’s face as he spoke. His eyes twinkled in the orange glow of the Mac truck's running lights.

The moon hung high in the night sky and the stars shone brightly. Fog settled off the coast, but didn’t seem to be moving in like it had the few nights before. It was cold and clear and bright, but something seemed very stuffy about the air. Some sort of pressure front was playing with the atmosphere.

The thing man before Tom Archer nodded, half listening. “Yes, yes.”

“Is this the only container we’re moving?” Patrick ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and stared blankly at the large container on the dolly. His broad shoulders rolled and he knelt down. “We can strap this in and down behind the other boxes in the 150, Tom. No need for the Mac.”
“There are issues that I’ve spoken to Mr….um…Tom…about. We want it secured and within a containment area. Not in the back of a pickup truck, Patrick.” The thin man pressed his glasses higher on his beak-like nose and addressed Tom again. “Are all the arrangements agreed on, Tom? Are we ready to move it?” His words were nervous and tight. He smelled of liquor and, though he was clean cut and well dressed, he seemed somewhat disheveled and out of sorts. His thinning hair blew around on his head and he slid a hand over it to push it back into place. Patrick thought his skin looked gray.
“Sure thing. And the money is fine as well.” Tom watched as lights crested on the hill, then turned off on the main road. The warehouse they were parked in front of was completely dark – the high barbed fence that surrounded it whistled as the wind came up.
“Yes, yes – fine.” The thin man moved to his car and glanced around uncomfortably before opening it and pulling out the envelope within. A soft ding emanated from the vehicle and repeated over and over until the door was shut again.
Patrick stood and examined the crate. It was around seven feet high and three feet across. The wood wasn’t your standard variety crate wood, but something thicker and stronger. He moved around it and noticed that there was a small panel built into the side of it at about the five foot level. He narrowed his eyes and ran a hand over the surface. It was made to slide open. He started to push on the panel.
“NO!” The thin man placed a hand on Patrick’s chest and looked over to Tom. “I thought I made it very clear, Thomas.”
Tom smiled. What did this dude think? That if he talked like he was his Dad he’d be scared or something? “Yeah, I just needed to go over that with Patrick. No worries.” He waved a hand towards the crate and shook his head. “No peeking. Don’t ask don’t tell gig, amigo.”
“Ahh…sorry. Got it.” Patrick nodded. “Sorry – didn’t know.” He folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Sorry. Got it.”
The thin man eyed him and then mustered a very weak smile before handing the envelope to Tom. “It’s all there, but you can count it if you need to. We need to get moving, however. This needs to be in San Francisco before the sun rises. We don’t need people seeing you roll into the destination.”
“No problem.” Tom opened the envelope and flipped through the money absently. “And another three thousand when we get there, yeah?”
“Correct.”
Patrick’s eyebrows perked. Nice haul for five hours on the road.
“Well then, let’s roll out, huh?” Tom smiled a wide, wolfish smile.

The crate was a bitch to load. The thin man watched every move Tom and Patrick made like a hawk uttering warnings and cautions with each move. Once loaded, the crate was tied in and secured with a series of ropes and straps. It wasn’t going anywhere. They parted ways and Tom and Patrick started off North West towards San Francisco.

One hour later, Tom pulled off to the side of the road and killed the truck’s engine.
“What are you doing? Pee break?” Patrick laughed. “Pussy.”
“I’m going to check out that crate.” Tom grinned.
“Don’t ask don’t tell job, man. Why do you want to go fucking around with that crate? Let’s just go get our green on.” Patrick slapped Tom’s arm. “Fuck it.”
“Mr. Stork was way too worried about this thing back there. If it’s major, we can move it along through Raffi or Serge and pull in some serious money instead of a mere six g. Move up. Let’s check it out.” Tom felt Patrick’s firm grip around his arm as he flung the door open wide. He looked back with a smile and barked, “What?”
Patrick’s brown face didn’t smile back. He was serious. “Come on.”
Tom pulled free and jumped from the cab. He moved around to the trailer and heard Patrick jump out and follow around on the other side.
The roll up door slammed open with a clatter and the inside lights flickered to life providing a dim glow of sickly yellow light. Tom climbed up with Patrick close behind.
“Dude, fuck this. Let’s just roll.”
“Easy – this isn’t a big deal.” Tom glanced right, then jerked around to the left of the crate looking for the sliding panel. He yanked a flashlight from the small, built in shelf and switched it on. “Now, let’s see what we are touring with here.”
Patrick made one final grab for Tom’s arm, but Tom pulled away and shouted, “Don’t.” His smile was gone. Patrick frowned and backed away. He looked out the back of the trailer and was obviously pissed, but Tom didn’t care. He sniffed and caught a musky smell. He pressed his nose to his armpit and sniffed again. He narrowed his eyes and glanced over towards the crate.
Tom pressed the panel and tried to slide it open. It didn’t move. The wood was cold to the touch, which he found strange. His eyes narrowed as he ran the flashlight beam along the panel’s edges looking for some sort of latch or clip.
Something inside the crate shifted and thumped against the side.
Tom and Patrick stared at the crate for a minute before Tom continued his search.
“Tom?” Patrick cocked his head to the side and leaned forward. He heard something inside make a sound. Something like a moan or a purr. Then, it thumped again, but harder this time.
“This is interesting,” Tom said in a whisper as he tried to slide the panel again. He didn’t seem to hear the movement inside.
Patrick placed a hand on the wood and listened.
“Ah, wax or something here on top. They sealed it. Probably to make sure we didn’t mess around with it. Smart.” Tom reached for his hip to get his leatherman tool, but stopped short when he heard something slide up the crate wall from the inside.
Something pounded the sides of the crate from inside and both man jumped and pressed back against the sides of the trailer. Something was angry and wanted out. It hit the sides over and over again, but didn’t seem to be making any headway in freeing itself.
Patrick stared at Tom with wide eyes and placed a finger over his lips when Tom started to talk at the crate, shaking his head for him to be quiet.
Tom went silent.
The pounding continued for a minute, then started to slow. After a time, the banging stopped all together. A low, deep growl rumbled from the crate and the two men looked at each other.

The roll door of the trailer slammed shut and Tom cranked the latch down hard, then slipped the lock into place and bashed it shut roughly before shoving Patrick’s shoulder. “Go.” He ran around the opposite side to the trucks cab, climbed in, and started the engine.
Patrick slammed his door and locked it.
Tom flipped on the lights and gripped the wheel. He popped the clutch too fast and the cab rattled and the engine died. “Shit.”
“Ok…wait a minute. Hold up.” Patrick raised a hand. “We’re cool. Let’s just chill out a minute.” He nodded and patted the dash. “We got this, whatever it is is cool back there, and all we gotta do is drive.” He took a deep breath and the smell of burritos and sweat filled his lungs. Patrick sat back in his seat and dragged the seatbelt over himself.
Tom followed suit and clicked his into place as well. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life again. He gripped the wheel and looked over to Patrick. His face drooped and he opened his moth to speak, but said nothing.
“Hey, we’re cool. Let’s roll, man. No need for talking.” Patrick wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then flipped on the radio. Tom Petty let them know that he was free falling and Patrick turned it up.
Dirt swirled around the trucks wheels and rose into the cool, crisp air as it pulled back onto the road and made it’s way towards the freeway.

Her Evil

2008-07-13T11:32:00.000-07:00

The hand swiped across the face of the clock half heartedly – as if it too had little consideration for the time anymore. The light dimmed slowly as the sun dripped back down into the ocean for the day. Tim Franz stared out the window and watched the wind bat his flowers around sending their pollen, in his opinion, into a spiral directly into his eyes. He rubbed at them with both hands and pressed his fingers into the sockets. For a moment, he didn’t trust himself not to keep pressing. Pushing his eyes in and squishing them into pulp.

“You doing ok there, Timmy?”

Tim’s hands fell to his sides and his eyes opened slowly. He turned and looked to his unwanted guest.

She smiled like the village idiot and toyed with her black hair. Her outfit was surprisingly tame – a small skirt with nylons and a shirt that actually covered her completely. She leaned against the wall and sighed. “Wish I knew you were still sick. I would have brought you a roasted chicken or whatever it is.” She smirked.

“No need. I just need sleep, really. But, thanks. Did you need something?”

“If not, are you planning on sending me packing, Tim? Shove me back out into the night?” She smiled wide.

“I really need to get some sleep.” He sighed back and glanced at his watch. Only eight o’clock. Hardly grounds for dismissal alone. “And this cold and all. I have a big day tomorrow and need to just crash out.”

She looked around the apartment. “Drink for old time’s sake? I won’t stay long. I’m meeting someone and was just looking to kill some time.”

Kill some time. As long as that’s all it was. He fought a battle in his head and his brain and heart told him to shove her out, slam the door and lock it as fast as he could. Kick her first to ensure a proper seal on the door. He didn’t need a battle on his doorstep. Swift kick or push, door slams, locks, then he’d call the police as she yelled whatever she wanted outside. The neighbors would understand. He was sure of it.

“Guess one drink is ok.” He stepped backwards and was shocked at the words that had come from his own mouth.

“Good boy,” the woman purred as she strolled in and looked around. “You changed some things around. It looks nice.” The back of her shirt was open, her skin gleaming in the light from the outside hall lamp. She moved into the living area, spun on her heel, and dropped onto the sofa with a huff. “SUCH a day, Tim. You would NOT believe.” She rolled her eyes and looked in the direction of the kitchen. “Have any of that delicious Eagle Rare whiskey about? I could use a little to take the edge off.” She crossed her legs in a ladylike fashion, but managed to expose her panties in a most un-ladylike way.

Tim frowned as if thinking and averted his eyes. “I think I do have some left. I’ll pour a glass for us.” He smiled a large, fake smile and hurried past her and into the kitchen.

“So, you still liking the new arrangements? The new gig is still working well for you and keeping you out of trouble?” She fingered a magazine, flipping the pages harshly and managing to tear one on every fourth flip or so. She didn’t wait for an answer. “So glad you’re doing well there, really.”

“Thanks.” Tim dropped three cubes of ice into the two glasses on the counter, then poured a healthy amount of the whiskey over them. The ice popped and cracked and Tim thought of spines breaking.

“And besides this fictional cold, you have your health, which is nice.” She grinned and held out her hand for the proffered glass. She took it from Tim and let a nail slip over his wrist as she took it from him. “All’s well in Timlandia.” She winked and sipped at the whiskey, then purred again as she rolled the glass around slightly sending the ice spinning languidly in the glass.

“All good.” Tim sat across from her and gulped at the contents of his glass like a drowning man clutching the sides of a life raft.

“Why are you sitting so far away, Tim? Sit over here.” She patted the sofa.
“Cold.” He shrugged. “Don’t want to get you sick.”

“I can’t catch a fictional fucking cold, Tim.” She sighed and patted the sofa again looking agitated.

Tim stared at the sofa, then pried himself up out of his chair. He quavered, half stepping forward, then stopping himself in his tracks. “I really can’t do this right now. I think you should head out. I’m really not feeling-.” The sentence was stricken down from the air before he could finish it.

“Stop being such a pain in the arse, Timmy. You’re really starting to annoy me with all this scared bullshit.” She took another long draw on the glass, then let it drop to the end table roughly before standing up and facing Tim eye to eye. “You have gotten worse, not better. Telling me little lies, are you? You look like shite!”

Tim wanted to run. He wanted to bolt and fly out the door. Maybe tossing a match over his shoulder and setting the whole place on fire as he did. Taking her with it, of course. The blaze cutting off her means of escape. Oh bliss. “I think you should go.”

“Do you?” She stared into his face, her eyes blazing. “Do you, Tim?”

He felt sick. His head ached with each pulse. “I don’t want you in my life anymore. Just leave, please.”

“Whaa.” She giggled. “Timmy, you really need to come to grips with just who you are.” She touched his chest lightly. “And, just who I am.” She withdrew her hand and brought it to her chest. Her red nails slid over the material of her blouse and she drew her ruby red lips back into a wicked smile.

Tim stared at her and blinked hard as he watched her eyes go all crazy like they used to. He shuddered.

“Tim, if you really didn’t want me back in your life again, why on Earth did you open the God damn door?” Her slight English accent slithered across the surface of her words like a snake. “I mean, why didn’t you just keep the door shut tight? Leave me outside and let me scream my head off? Call the police on me? Anything but open that door.” She sighed and turned to face the window. “Your decision making is complete shit, you know?” She laughed and patted his cheek.

Tim backed away from her. “Look, I really just wanted things to be peaceful. Quiet. I don’t want trouble and I thought the easiest way would be to just…let you in and be done with it.” He swallowed hard. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think you should-“

“Shut up, Tim, you spineless twat,” she sneered and moved around the corner and into the kitchen.

Tim blinked and his mouth went slack for a moment before he blurted out, “What are you doing?!” He heard drawers opening and closing. He heard the last drawer opened and slammed shut hard after something was removed from it. He glanced around the room for some weapon. Something to defend himself. “Oh Gawd,” he mutterd. He made a move towards the door, but she blocked him and smiled wide. Her arm was twisted back behind her back.

“Where you going? Out? You have that dreadful cold, Timmy. You should stay in or you’ll catch your DEATH!” She moved towards him. “You need rest. A long rest.”

Tim’s arms rose before him and he whimpered, “Stay back?” It sounded like more of a question than a demand.

“You’re sick. A poor, sick soul in need of something.” She brought her hand forward with a rush and flicked her wrist out in a sharp, quick snapping motion in Tim’s direction.

The towel in her hand caught him in the scrotum and he doubled over. “SHIT!”

“To bed with you, you little bitch!” She spun the towel and sent it whipping out again. “OFF with you!” The towel snapped his leg and another whipping caught his left butt cheek as he turned to try and avoid her.

“Damn it, Sissy!” Tim ran for his room.

“Don’t give me any lip. I’ll cancel my plans and make you some tea. Shoo!” She flipped the towel up and onto her shoulder as she watched him retreat into his room. She kicked her heels off and slid them towards the wall as she reached into her purse and withdrew her phone.

“Hey, Dani, it’s me. Yeah, I’m not going to make it over after all. I’m going to take care of Tim. Yeah, he’s still no better. I’m gonna make him some tea and maybe order in for the night.” She listened and smiled. “Yeah yeah…I’m such a sweet sister, I know.” She giggled. “Fine then – cheers.” She hung up and moved to the refrigerator. Her eyes scanned the menus until she found what she was looking for and dialed.

"Golden Flower - delivery or pick up?"

“Hey there. Delivery, please. What’s a good soup for a cold?” She snatched up the teapot with her free hand and wondered what was on the tube.

Dead Things: End of her rope

2008-07-13T10:57:00.000-07:00

End of her rope. The end. The ropes end. The end of it. Smoking gun. Caught with the smoking gun. Pain in the neck. Time. End of. End of my rope.

The rope bit into the pink flesh of her neck and burned with the slightest of movements. It took her a minute to regain what little control she had. First, the cold wood on her cheek, then the realization that the wood was floor and not wall since she was laying on it. Something bumped in the hallway and she tried to call out for assistance, but her throat was constricted and pain shot through her when she tried to speak. Everything smelled stale and medicinal.

What the hell had happened? She blinked and tried to sit up. The rope was caught under her arm and pulled painfully at her burnt skin when she pushed up. She yanked it from under her arm and shoved – bringing herself to a seated position. She then assessed the situation.

Rope. Broken pipe above her on the ceiling. Gun on the floor before her, smoking. Her left shoulder hurt almost as bad as her throat. She touched the burnt skin around her neck and glanced up to the broken set of pipes. Had she tried to kill herself? It seemed impossible, yet there she was. But, the gun didn’t make sense. Maybe someone had tried to kill her? Hang her? And she shot them?

“What…” she clamped her eyes shut as the sting from her throat ran down her spine. No talking for now. She tasted blood and licked her lip. It was split and blood ran from it into her mouth.
She blinked hard and removed the rope from her neck. Pain made her wince as she tossed the rope aside. Her whole body ached.

The noise in the hall came again and the situation made her heart beat faster. If this person in the hall had tried to kill her and she had indeed shot them, she’d have to seek help and fast. She narrowed her eyes when she heard footsteps. Obviously, someone was still very much alive.

She rose to her feet and lost her balance. She was shaken and felt dizzy. She thought that maybe she had hit her head on the way down. She reached forward and grabbed the gun and the dizziness made her swoon and she went down on one knee. Her left arm and shoulder were useless – every movement of them made her shudder with pain. She clamped her teeth down hard and pushed herself up. She had to get out of here, wherever here was.

She glanced around and saw that the room she was in had another way out. At least another door. She stole a glance towards the footsteps in the hall and saw the growing shadow of what looked to be a woman moving up the wall in the half light. She looked back toward the opposite door and made her way towards it slowly and quietly. Her head was clearing, but she was still very dizzy and almost fell through the door in the back of the room when she reached it.

She slipped around the corner and checked the gun. She didn’t remember much of anything, but her fingers flew over the gun as muscle memory took over. She spun the chamber quietly and saw that all the bullets were spent. “Shit,” she mouthed to herself as she slid to the floor. Not good. Not good at all. She looked around and saw that the room was nothing more than a large closet.

The footsteps stopped, then she heard them start to move into the room where she woke up. A scan of the room showed that there were no other exits. A few random things to hide behind, but no means of escape. She listened and tried to keep quiet. The room seemed to grow smaller with each shambling step she heard growing closer. She wouldn’t be able to fight this person in her current state.
The person sounded injured. Hell, if she did in fact empty a gun at it, she must have hit the person somewhere no matter how horrid a shot she may have been.

That’s when she caught the reflection in a large, steel vacuum propped against the wall on the other side of her. The reflection made her heart beat even faster. She fought back the urge to scream and she stared on with wide open eyes and tried to convince herself that what she was seeing was just due to some head injury.

The person shambling towards her had no right arm. It looked like it was shredded at the end of the nub and bone shone through. Bits of gore hung from it and swung back and forth with each step. The figure made a sick, gurgling and smacking sound as if it were chewing air wetly. It was a woman – a breast exposed and covered with blood. But the worst part was the things face. Half of it was gone and pulp with white skull showing through.

Memories rushed in with tidal force. She looked down at herself and the uniform she wore. Police. She was an officer. Janet Temple. She was in the house and trying to run away from…them. Oh God, she remembered it all now. There were more of these things outside and she had run into the small clinic to avoid them. She had shot the thing in the face when it came after her. Shot it over and over, but still it came.

She stood and gripped the handle of the gun tightly, raising it high and ready to hit the thing. She drew in a quiet breath and went still. Janet closed her eyes, wished she were somewhere else, then opened them and waited. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fight for long in her current state. She could barely keep her eyes open and she felt the room spinning under her feet.

The thing stumbled forward and into the small room. Blonde hair was matted to its head with dried blood. Long scrapes marred her side and exposed ribs and muscle. Janet had seen the look before. This woman – what was left of her – was dragged by a car after being hit. She shouldn’t be up and walking.
Janet shook off the growing fear and concentrated. Her side and throat throbbed with every heartbeat. She stared at the things rotten, gore covered face. Skull shown through and the left eye was missing. Janet didn’t move. She felt dizzy, but she willed herself to remain totally still. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and upper lip and dripped down the back of her uniform.

The thing stopped and cocked its head to the side. Its hair parted slightly as scalp pulled away from bone. The missing eye socket was an angry shade of red mixed with deep bruise blue and black. It waited, moving its head from side to side slightly.

Janet held her breath, fire raging in her arm still held high with the useless weapon in a death grip.
The missing eye saw nothing on the left. Janet didn’t breathe. Didn’t make a sound. The thing raised it’s arm, then lowered it slowly. It turned to it’s right and shuffled out of the room. Janet heard it stumble and fall, drag its body back up, then move out of the room slowly.

Janet’s arm slowly slid to her side. She stared forward and took shallow, painful breaths. Her eyes closed, then opened slowly. She bit her lower lip and tried to wrap her brain around what was happening, but nothing made sense. She listened, but didn’t hear a thing. Her stomach was churning and she felt as if she might be sick.

“Ok,” she whispered. She palmed the gun and peeked around the corner and peered into the dark. Nothing. She moved back into the room and looked up at the broken pips as she ran a hand over her neck. She couldn’t believe it could be so bad that she’d try to hang herself.

Her belt lay on the floor in the corner and she grabbed it and slipped it back around her waist, slipping the gun back into the holster. No bullets, but she’d sort that out later. The baton she carried was still tucked neatly into her belt’s compartment. She withdrew it and held it tight as she made her way towards the room’s doorway.

The hallway was empty, but that thing could be anywhere looking for her still. She moved quietly and tried to stay to the shadows and darkness.

She glanced out the window and saw other shapes moving there. Other figures stumbling and shuffling in the dark. Part of her thought it might be best to wait in this building until the sun rose, but something inside her wanted out. Wanted to have the option to run if she wanted it. Being stuck in an unfamiliar building seemed like a very bad idea.

The first door she found was heavy and bolted shut. The second revealed her follower from before. It crouched over something small and ate away at it feverishly. Janet didn’t want to think what the small, meaty thing was and moved on.

The door to the outside stood ajar and light pour in from outside illuminating the hall and the lawn outside. A police cruiser was smashed up against the clinic’s fence and smoke rose from the engine as it idled and sputtered – more dead than alive. Radio chatter poured from the open door of the car and the people’s voices sounded panicked and full of fear.

Figures moved around the car, glancing into it and moving on. Shuffling corpses wandering every which way. Janet counted six around the car and more in the street and surroundings, but they were slow moving and spread out at a good distance. She felt around in her pocket for the keys to the shotgun, but realized they were on the keyring in the car’s ignition.

Her teeth ground together as she peered around the door jam. Panic gave way to anger. She didn’t like this at all. It didn’t make any sense. The things outside were…dead. They were in various states of decay. This wasn’t happening.

Her arm was pulsing and she glanced back into the clinic wondering if she should try to find some sort of sling or meds to help her fight through the injury. Her eyes narrowed as the follower from before stumbled from the room it had feasted in and spotted her. It made a small, guttural sound and started moving at her down the hallway. Janet looked outside and saw another one of them moving toward her slowly from the small garden to the right of the car.

She drew in a deep breath, nodded to herself then moved into the light of the headlights, out onto the porch and made her way to the cruiser….

Train

2008-07-10T22:59:00.000-07:00

The train had struck the person walking right before her stop – a mere block from the station she was supposed to meet him. The weather was cold and the chilly breeze rushing off the water blew around a light mist. The area was dark except for some flood lights that were mounted high on the industrial buildings.
Malcolm leaned against his car and looked across the dark towards the train as it sat in the gloom waiting for the police to be done with their business so it could move along. He was sure that this process could take hours. Police moving around the train and marking and measuring where the poor soul was hit and were he was dragged. Maybe they would use spray paint to mark angles and determine fault. Maybe they’d just take some pictures and cart the guy away. He wasn’t even sure if it was a man or woman that had been hit. All he knew is that his girlfriend was still on the train and wasn’t allowed off.
His phone rang. He pulled his cap up off his ear and placed it to his head.
“Hey, Baby.” Her voice sounded tired.
“Hell of a way to end a two hour trip, huh?” He sighed. “You doing ok?”
“Yeah, I just wish I had hoped off when I called you before instead of waiting. They say it’s a crime scene and we all need to stay on the train.” She paused, listening, then continued. “Are you here?”
“Yeah. I’m at the front. Parked.”
“You ok?”
“Yeah – I’m fine. No worries. I’ll wait for you.” He spotted a police officer walking down the tracks and narrowed his eyes trying to get a good read in the dark. “I see a cop. I’m going to ask how long he thinks all this will take.”
“Ok – talk to you soon. Love you.”
Malcolm hung up and watched the officer come to a stop on the other side of the tracks. He pulled his cap back over his ear and thought things through a moment. It was dark and he didn’t want any misunderstandings here among the warehouses and darkness and train tracks.
“Hello? Sir?” Malcolm waved a hand and made his way towards the officer a few feet, but made sure he didn’t cross the track. Something in his head warned him against it. Maybe it was a crime or something. Later, he would think it silly.
The officer stood for a moment, then waved back.
“Hi. Do you-“ Malcolm stopped and rethought the conversation. “My girlfriend is on the train there. Do you know when all this might get resolved?”
The officer stared for a moment, then looked to his right and left. He then crossed the tracks in a slow, deliberate way and made his way towards Malcolm.
Malcolm watched as the officer walked over. It reminded him of the small town sheriffs he’d seen in countless old TV shows and movies. “Yes, Sir. That there train really laid old Arlo out flat – a-yup!”
The officer stopped about three feet away, paused, then said, “Sorry, what was that?” He was Asian, about Malcolm’s height, and friendly looking. He wore standard "police in the cold" garb - hat, and puffy, dark jacket.
“Oh, my girlfriend is on the train and I just wondered if you knew how long everything would take – you know?”
The officer looked over at the train and then back to Malcolm. “Yeah, well, this is a crime scene now.” He glanced at the train and back. “So, no one can get off the train.”
Malcolm looked at the train, then back again himself.
The officer continued in a friendly and informative way. “So, I think it will take about…an hour? Maybe?” He nodded.
“I see.” Malcolm nodded back. “Ok…well…thank you. I’ll just wait over here at my car I guess.” Malcolm sighed. “Thanks.”
“Sorry.” The man shrugged and turned to walk back to his position by the tracks.
Malcolm turned and started back to his car, then stopped as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He turned and faced the officer again and called back to him. “I was going to grab a coffee. Did you want one, Sir?”
The officer stopped and turned. He bowed his head slightly as if he were thinking, then he started walking back towards Malcolm in that same, slow way, again, stopping about three or four feet away.
Malcolm smiled.
“No, but thanks for offering.” The officer nodded, turned, and took his position again by the railroad tracks.

Chit chat

2008-07-10T22:31:00.000-07:00

The apartment was warm and inviting. Music played low on the computer and the smell of cooking food filled the air. The space was small, but comfortable. The three people sitting in the living room drank beer from pint glasses and talked while waiting for the food to be ready.
“So, did he do it right or did he fuck it all up like everything else he does?” Kevin sipped at his beer, then laughed when he saw Tabitha’s face curl into a sneer. “I’m kidding! Geez.”
“He’s really, really good.” Tabitha giggled playfully as she rubbed Mike’s leg. “He’s amazing.”
“I find that hard to believe.” Kevin winked and finished his beer. “Another?”
“Go to hell?” Mike grinned. “I mean, sure. Thanks.” He grinned, downed the last of his beer, then handed the glass to Kevin.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be in hell at some point. I mean besides the day to day hell at my stupid job.” Kevin snapped Tabitha’s glass up without asking if she wanted another. “Working for that dumbass and his team of dumbasses.”
“At least it’s consistently shit.” Tabitha kissed Mike and whispered something into his ear.
“True. Nice to know what to expect every day. I feel better.” Kevin poured three more Pale Ales and returned to the living room. “Viola.” He passed the beer around, then fell back into his chair – master of his domain. “Thanks for coming by, guys. Nice to see you.”
“Sure thing. I mean, it was really just for the beer, but it’s nice to see you, man.” Mike took a sip.
Tabitha slapped his leg.
“So, anything new on the dating front?” Mike crossed his legs and rested his beer on his knee.
“Yeah, actually there is.” Kevin took a sip and leaned forward. “I’m wanking like…three times a day now instead of two.”
“Gross.” Tabitha shook her head.
“Um…let’s see, what else? Oh! That girl down at the coffee place that I saw twice? Remember?””
“Yeah yeah – Marilyn Monroe?”
“Yeah, her.” Kevin nodded emphatically to Mike.
“Oh, I’d love to be Marilyn Monroe.” Tabitha swooned, then snarled out, “Of course, I’d be dead, but…” She sipped.
“Yeah, well she’s out of the picture.”
“I thought that was all going well,” Mike said as he frowned. “What happened?”
“She’s a bit too Bible Belt for me. She and I were watching one of the Harry Potter films and things went odd.”
“Which one?” Tabitha blinked.
“Um…the one where Volde-whatsis is trying to kill him.”
“Oh, I liked that one.” Tabitha smiled wide.
“So, we were watching the film, the thing ends, then – literally out of NOWHERE – she asks how I feel about abortion.”
Mike dribbled beer and laughed as he pushed off the sofa and ran to the kitchen for a towel.
“That’s strange, man.” Tabitha scowled. “Just, out of the blue?”
“Yeah.”
“WHAT the fuck?!” Mike returned running a towel over his chin and shirt. “What the hell was that about?”
“No clue. It was strange. This is after, you know, letting me ravage her. Like that was ok, but abortion was a sin. I was so confused.” He shook his head and sighed.
“So, she asked and what?” Tabitha put her glass down and rested her elbows on her knees.”
“She pressed me to answer.”
“And?” Tabitha smiled wide.
“And I said that I thought it was ok in some cases.” He sipped, then added, “And that women had the right to choose for themselves – keep the government and church out of it.”
“Wow.” Mike nodded.
“And she?”
“Flipped out. She stood up, wriggled into her pants and said that she couldn’t be with someone like me. Saved me the trouble of making an exit. It was kinda strange. I mean, minutes before she was…well…” He wriggled his eyebrows.
“Gross.” Tabitha winked at Mike and leaned back on the sofa.
“Anyway…three times a day,” Kevin sighed.
Mike pursed his lips, then bent down and patted Tabitha’s leg. “What about hooking him up with your cousin?”
Tabitha grabbed her beer and said, “I don’t think Kevin is his type.” Her face was like stone as she drank.
“Funny.” Kevin chuckled and stood. “I’ll go wither in the kitchen. With the roast.”
“We love you, Kevin!” Tabitha stood and moved into the kitchen with him, rubbing at his neck and making kissing noises.
Mike followed behind, beer in hand. “You washed your hands before making dinner, right Kevin?”

Flight

2008-07-10T18:02:00.000-07:00

Cool air blows onto the top of his head as the Tie Man sits and watches the other passengers file onto the aircraft. He sips at the remains of his coffee. It’s tepid, but he imagines the caffeine making it’s way through his system and he takes another sip. Four-thirty in the morning was far too early for him to have woken up on this fine morning and he needs the boost badly.

The airbus, they call it. Makes sense, he thinks. It seems bus-like.

Business people waddle awkwardly down the aisle with small computer bags ad briefcases. A man struggles to maintain control over a large carry on. A couple glances to the left and right reading seat numbers below the overhead compartments as they search for their seats.

A girl – maybe seventeen at best – with a shock of red hair and elfin eyes gracelessly makes her way down the aisle with a large pink bag bouncing off her legs with each step. She glances around and seems to see her seat number.

The Tie Man sees her and notes her simple beauty. Sweet kid, he thinks.

An older woman makes her way past him and he remembers her from the terminal. She’s tall and made up – packed into a white dress and heels. Not practical, he thinks to himself. Seems downright uncomfortable.

His eyes return to the elf girl as she pauses beside him. She’s skinny and frail looking with the standard teen uniform of jeans, t-shirt and “hoodie”. She hefts the large, pink bag into the seat and shimmies out of the aisle and into the seat behind it – waiting.

He looks to his right out to the tarmac.

People make their way past her as they look for their seats. The Tie Man looks over to her again and notes that she is eyeing the overhead compartments.

He adjusts the knot of his tie and glances at the pink bag. Was it to heavy for her to lift into the overhead? He thinks about asking if she needs help, but rethinks it when women’s equality flashes in his brain for a minute. If her were to ask if she needs help, would it imply that she’s to week and powerless to deal with the situation herself? Would he be implying that she isn’t able to deal with the situation because she’s just a woman? Ridiculous, but the thought it there all the same.

Then, a thought enters his head. He thinks of his little, 14 year old girl and wonders if she’d ask for help if she couldn’t lift a bag into the overhead or if she’d merely wait awkwardly until she could ask someone at the last minute.

“This is my seat.” An Asian businessman smiles to the girl and waits patiently for her to move the bag from the seat he wishes to occupy.

The Tie Man looks around and smiles to the redhead, then points to her bag. “Um, did you need a hand getting that up into the thing?” The words spill from his mouth like puffs of smoke – somewhat half hearted and soft.

The redhead smiles uncomfortably. “Um...yeah…thanks.” She looks like she wants to jump out of her skin – uncomfortable and embarrassed.

“Oh…” The Asian businessman smiles an uncomfortable smile as he realizes what’s happened. He moves back a step as the Tie Man stands and takes the bag with his right hand and holds his cup with his left. He looks to the cup, then to the bag, then back again before looking at the redhead.

She takes the cup with a smile, one hand clutching it and the other hand slipping under it like it was a Ming Vase. She lifts it up and over the bag and waits.

The next few steps work like a ballet – a choreographed dance of passengers and bags.
The Tie Man grips the bag handle and moves it into the overhead compartment in one, smooth motion. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” the girl says with a smile as she hands him his cup and runs a hand through her hair.

A few more people file in patiently behind the businessman and wait.

The Tie Man glances at red and nods, then glances to the businessman and smiles. The man smiles back and the Tie Man returns to his seat with a sigh.

The girl takes her seat by the window on the opposite side.

The Asian businessman takes his seat in the aisle and settles in.

More passengers file past and look for their seats.

Society.

The Tie Man sips his tepid coffee and looks to his right, staring out onto the flight deck. He smiles a small, private smile. He feels good. Feels like a gentleman. He finishes the last bit of coffee in the cup and steals a glance at the girl in the seat – her feet now shoeless and curled under her in the seat.

The businessman stares at the screen in the headrest of the seat before him, then notices the man in the row before him is an old coworker and strikes up a conversation.

People file onto the plane, one after another. The Tie Man watches them absently. He glances at the faces and the outfits and the bodies and wonders where they are going, who they know, and how long they plan to be away. He finds people fascinating. He likes his world right now and it’s pleasing.
People file onto the plane, one after another.

Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

2008-07-07T17:15:00.003-07:00

I can still fee the fresh air with that mist in it. The fog blowing in over the water with the sound of the waves crashing in over and over. They never stopped. The air was so clean and the sky was so huge, all filled with fog and mist. So open. The city lights reflected off the fog and everything was filled with a sort of glow. A light.

Now, it’s different. It’s stale and closed in and dark.

The first time I saw it, I thought I was fucking dreaming and didn’t do anything but stare off to where it scuttled off to dumbly. I just watched it leave without doing anything about it. I just went back to sleep. Fucking idiot.

I remember sitting with her and staring up at the fog. I was cold then, but I’d take being twice as cold right now over this.
“So, what was it?” She stirred her coffee and stared at me like she was trying to decide if she was going to smile or frown.
“I don’t know. I think I was just asleep. It didn’t make any sense. It was like friggin E.T. or something. I’m sure I was dreaming. Forget it.” I managed to laugh, but she was reluctant to join me.
“Well, have it looked at. It might be a rat or something.”

A rat or something. Big friggin rat that walked on it’s hind legs. The size of a five year old. Yeah, you might want to get someone in to look at that. If I wasn’t so scared right now, I’d laugh. I’d laugh my ass off.

But, I don’t make a fucking sound.

I can hear it coming closer with small, dragging steps and I keep my mouth shut and try to pull the sheets up around my nose so I can’t smell it’s breath. It smells stale and…like sick. Vomit. I can hear it. Feel it right in front of my face. It breathes on me and stares. I can feel it staring holes in my face, but I keep my eyes closed tight and pretend to sleep. I don’t want to see it. I caught a half glimpse and that was bad enough. Want to scream.

But I stay silent. Still. And I keep my eyes closed shut – pretending to sleep until it goes away.

God…it’s so close. It’s mouth rasps out in little, belching gasps of stench. I can feel the bile churning in my stomach.

I just wish it would go away. Just go away.

Wonderful Life

2008-01-04T13:31:00.000-08:00

Meanwhile...

Rain and wind whipped through the City without mercy and tore down signs and fences with no sign of stopping. It was cold, gray and miserable. Above all, it summed up Kerri Sparks’ emotional state to a T. She wasn’t doing so well in this post-Christmas without a job world she had created for herself.
Kerri slid her fingers over the tops of the glistening cases absently as she thought about what an absolute wreck her life had become – pathetic. She flipped through the CDs and glanced at the covers, but nothing really registered in her mind. Music thumped around her as she wandered through the CD shop without a clue as to what her brother would like for Christmas. Hell, it wasn’t like she had money for a gift anyway and it was almost two weeks after the lame holiday was over. What was the point?
“Help you find something?”
Kerri turned to face the young man before her with a blank stare. She slid a hand over her wet hair and shook her head. “No, thanks. Unless you have some sort of buy none, get one free thing going today?” She didn’t smile and it was obvious that her joke fell into the same gray area the day occupied.
The young guy smiled an awkward, sorry smile and shook his head no. “Sorry, that was yesterday.” He smirked and moved off towards the counter.
Kerri glared at the CDs before her, looked towards the rows of movies in the back of the store, then moved towards the door and out into the cold.

The rain had stopped, but the wind still battered her when she hit the street. A shiver ran through her as the wind slid over and around her legs and back and made the damp even colder than it already was. Her umbrella was useless in this gust, so she had just resigned herself to power through and take a hot shower at home. Hell of a Monday.
“Merry Christmas my ass,” she growled. “God damn nightmare, the whole of it.” She pulled her jacket tighter and made her way down the street.
Behind her, a lone bicyclist followed. Not to close, but obviously interested in her. He peddled slowly and moved his mountain bike down and off the sidewalk.
The dim light of midday in the clouds made Kerri even more depressed. She was broke and forced to live at home. She was the laughing stock of the family now – everyone tossing veiled thoughts of “I told you so” her way whenever they could. What made it worse was their being right. She had made a few bad calls and when she looked back on them, she could remember words of warning before each one.
She turned and moved down the alley towards the Muni Bus stop. She’d resume the hunt for her brother’s gift later, for whatever that was worth.
“Hey Baby.” The man that followed Kerri slid from his seat and began to walk along behind her.
Kerri glanced back with her game face on then continued to move down the alley keeping her pace.
“Need a lift?” The man patted his bike seat and laughed.
Kerri focused on the end of the alley and ignored the comments.
“What are you doing out of school? Playing hooky?” He touched her shoulder and gripped it tight and Kerri’s heart leapt into her throat. She spun around and pushed his chest with both hands.
“DO NOT touch me!” She tried sounding bigger than her five foot two inch frame was. “I will fucking HURT you.”
“Baby girl’s got a chip on her shoulder. Just talking to you.” He slipped the bike around the back of her and grinned a dirty grin. He was around her age, but he obviously thought she was younger than she was. She didn’t look 28 and right now she didn’t feel it either. She felt like a scared kid. “Be nice.” His clothes weren’t dirty, so she didn’t think he was homeless. He was just an asshole.
Kerri’s mind blanked. She stared for a moment and sized things up, the struck before she had time to talk herself out of it. Years of classes flooded her head.
She grabbed the man’s soaked hair and pulled his head forward and down as she brought her knee up hard and fast. She was aiming for his nose, but she missed and connected with his cheek instead. Evidently, this was also effective.
The man wailed and gripped his face after a loud snap-pop signaled the breaking of his eye socket. He went down like a stone and the street bicycle clattered to the ground.
Kerri’s foot rose up and came down hard on the man’s groin. Again, close but not directly what she wanted. Again, very effective.
The man rolled onto his side and vomited onto the wet ground.
Kerri didn’t wait around. She turned and limped off down the alley. Something clicked in her head and she stopped. She winced, her knee aching, then looked back. She raced back to the man, yanked his bike to its wheels, then moved off down the alley towards the busy street.
“BITCH!” the man cried out to no one as he struggled to get to his feet with one hand to his face and the other to his groin.
Kerri’s knee throbbed. She hopped out onto the busy sidewalk and made her way out to get lost in the crowd.

John Sparks looked up when the buzzer rang and frowned. No one visited him and he wondered who would be now seeing as it was 9pm on a Wednesday. He pursed his lips and moved towards the door. When he opened it, he smiled wide. “Kerri? You lost?” He looked down. “You’re riding a bike now?” Then he noticed her knee brace and his smile faded.
“Hey, Johnny.” Kerri noted his look of concern. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I’m ok. Stop frowning.” She pushed past him and wheeled the bike inside. “Careful, the paint’s a little tacky still. Just finished it up and the rain and all is making the drying hard.”
John closed the door and took in the scene. He moved around his sister and tried not to sound too concerned when he asked about her knee. “THIS was no BOATING accident!” He chuckled.
Kerri laughed and shoved him. “Just fucked up my knee a bit. Have to wear the brace for a few weeks.” She presented the bicycle. “Merry Christmas from your looser sister.” She mustered a smile.
“You’re not a looser.” He looked over the bike. “Red and black. Nice. But, I can’t take your bike, Kerri.”
“Not mine. It’s yours. I had to do a quickie paint job on it. When I got it, it wasn’t looking too good.” She pushed it towards him and limped back. Pointing, she called out the bike’s upgrades. “I oiled up the chain, adjusted the breaks and tossed on my spare slicks. They’re almost new, so they should be fine. You should be able to get a different set of peddles later if you don’t dig the baskets.” She looked over her handy work. “I think it turned out pretty good.”
He nodded. “It’s really nice, but Kerri, how did you manage this? I thought things were tight right now.” He almost touched the paint, but pulled his hand back quickly before his fingers touched the glossy black metal.
“Speaking of, thanks for the check. It was nice of you. The card was cute.” Kerri smiled wide. “Bailing me out again.”
“Hey,” John said as he pushed the bike to the wall and leaned it on it’s handlebars, “you’re not a loser or any of that. People go through stuff. Sometimes things work out and sometimes they don’t. It’s not a big deal. If you focus, you’ll be back on your feet in a month or so, right?” He dragged his fingers over her head and messed up her hair.
Kerri ducked to the right and winced as the pain of her forgotten knee shot up to her hip. “Damn it.” She sucked in air and dropped herself onto the sofa.
John dropped to his knee in front of her and lightly touched the brace. “You cool?”
“Yeah….just forgot about it.” Kerri closed her eyes for a minute and let the tears subside, then she sighed and opened them. “I hate Christmas.” She grinned.
“Well, good thing it’s over then.” He stood. “Coffee?”
“Please.” Kerri watched him move into the kitchen, then she looked around the apartment. Two bedrooms – one converted into a study, John’s girlfriend Monica’s stuff neatly laid out on the hall table, and the air fresh and warm. It was so unlike her old room at her parents place. Everything was new and clean. IKEA furniture fresh from the box. She grinned at her thought and blurted out, “So, still struggling with this old two bedroom place? It’s so….small and cramped.” She grinned at her obvious sarcasm. The place was huge with a glorious view in a great neighborhood. She coveted it.
John returned and laughed. “Funny.”
“Really nice place.” Kerri adjusted her leg and settled in.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Good size for us.” He looked out the window. “Thanks Mom and Dad.”
“What?”
“They gave me the cash to get in here when I was broke. You knew that.” He smiled. “Helped a lot. That and the trip to get furniture. Still need to pay them back for all that.”
“I didn’t know they helped.” She perked up.
“Yeah, when you were at school and I was trying to get the Telnet gig.” He nodded. “Not the only one who needs help, Spider Baby.”
Kerri waved him off. She didn’t like to remember her “call me Spider Baby” days. It seemed so ridiculous now. “Kerri will do just fine, thanks.”
“Just when I got used to the whole Spider Baby persona. It was like having a super hero for a sister. Someone who I knew the secret identity of.” He chuckled.
This kind of ribbing was missed and loved. Kerri stuck out her tongue.
“Nice having you over. You should come over more often. We’ll get your resume done and get you working again.” He pointed at her and stood when he heard the kettle start it’s wailing.
Kerri called over her shoulder. “And give all THIS up? Living with Mom and Dad and stealing Christmas presents? No way.”
John laughed, not understanding that she wasn’t joking about the bike. He surfaced a moment later with two cups of steaming coffee and handed one to Kerri. “Still a cream and sugar overload girl?”
“Hell yeah,” she said as she slipped her hands around the cup.
John tapped his cup against hers. “To your busted up knee.”
Kerri smiled and sipped. “To my knee.” She smiled wide.

Sleeping

2007-09-16T17:47:00.001-07:00

Meanwhile...

The small, one bedroom town home was silent in the morning calm. The Sun’s light streamed in through the crack between the curtains and chased the shadows out of the bedroom. Something clanked in the small, dark home.

Carrie Post rubbed at her eyes and slid her feet down towards the bottom of the bed with that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had grown far to used to over the past few days. Thos house didn’t feel right to her. Not at all.

She sat upright in bed and swept her long, brown hair from her face and looked around the room – searching for signs like she had seen before. The signs had started out small, but were growing larger every night. Something was very wrong.

She pushed the covers off her body and slid her feet over the edge of the bed. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the bedroom carefully, but saw nothing different. She pushed off the mattress and moved into the living room.

She gasped when she saw the empty beer bottle on the computer table. Tears filled her eyes as she slowly dropped to the cold, wood floor and broke down in sharp sobs. She didn’t keep beer in her home. She didn’t even drink anymore. Not since all this started. She reached out and grabbed the phone and her hand froze over it before she dropped it back into it’s cradle.

Someone had been in her house again and it scared her to death. The problem was, no one believed her.

Friends told her to do everything from calling the police and filing a report to getting an alarm to getting a dog, but nothing made the sick feeling in her stomach ease. Someone had been in her house smoking one evening, sending emails from her account the next, and now drinking not one, but a series of beers in her home while she slept like a baby. What was next? This person obviously had free access to her locked home. What could they do to her?

People she spoke to about the recent events looked to her with sad eyes and asked how an intruder could enter her home when it was locked and chained and the locks had been changed. They looked at her as if she were going mad or seeking attention.

It only got worse.

The next night, the prowler entered again. He fixed a meal and evidently watched a few movies, leaving the stack by the TV for her to find. Carrie thought for a moment that this criminal had slipped something into her water – knocking her out somehow. There was no way she could have slept through all this.

When she managed to make it out of the house to head for work, she found her car moved as well - parked on the street and not in her driveway where she had left it when she returned from work the previous night. She wanted to be sick. She hugged herself tightly and pressed herself against her garage. Her eyes scanned her neighborhood and it’s once friendly presence now seemed to hide watchers and danger. She slipped back into her house and locked the door, deciding to take a sick day. She needed more rest.

She thought that maybe she was drugged. The feeling that washed over her was heavy and deep. Her eyelids fluttered as she stumbled towards the bed. She had to lie down. Sleep this all away. She couldn’t fight it even though the thought of someone still lurking in her home filled her thoughts as she drifted away into the shadows of sleep.

When her eyes opened again, the room was completely dark. Carrie had no idea how long she had been asleep. She rose from the bed and fumbled for the clock. It read five-thirty AM. She had slept for almost 24 hours. She coughed and stumbled from the bed running her hand over her head.

Her hair. It was wrong. Short and slightly damp.

She shrieked and ran to the bathroom. Her hand slammed into the switch and light filled the restroom and illuminated her face in the mirror. Another scream caught in her throat as her eyes went wide and took in the new hairstyle – cropped short and dyed black in a Euro style. Her hair had but cut, styled, and dyed black…as she slept?

Blackness swept in around her and she fell to the bathroom’s tile flooring like a stone.

Endless black. Deep dreaming. Light.

Clair’s eyes fluttered open and she felt around herself in a panic. She was covered with something. Some sort of light sheet.

Striking out with her hand, she shoved it up and off her head and bolted upright again.

Daylight streamed in and warmed her. Cool, fresh air came in through the open window before her and the smell of bacon and coffee filled her nostrils. Her heart raced. Fear flooded over her.

She took in her surroundings – all unfamiliar and strange to her. This wasn’t her house. Not her bed. She started to cry, choking back sobs. She stopped suddenly when she heard footsteps thumping over carpet towards her.

A man’s voice called out softly. “Carrie? You ok?”

Blackness rushed in at Carrie. She didn’t even feel her head hit the pillow.

Blackness engulfed her for a long, long time. She felt like she was caught in some limbo. A void. All half awake and drifting on a sea of dark.

Something filled her mind with sadness as a sudden dawning washed over her. This time, when her eyes opened, she wasn’t scared or confused. She believed she understood it all now and the knowledge filled her with melancholy.

She turned her head and stared at the sleeping man at her side and the corners of her mouth turned down as tears filled her eyes yet again. Yes, she understood it all now.

Her head rolled to the right and scanned the framed photos on the shelf by the bedroom’s oak door.

There was a photo of Carrie skiing, something which she had never learned to do.

A photo of Carrie holding a smiling man’s hand and dancing. Someone she didn’t know. She looked so happy and free. Even though the picture clearly was Carrie, she stared at the couple within the frame like they were both strangers.

The last photo made Carrie’s breath catch in her throat. Carrie was cradling a small child in her arms and looking at it with love. It looked just like her. It was so small and soft and fragile.

She pitied herself. How could this to happen? Her life was no longer her own. She didn’t even know herself anymore. She felt herself slipping away again, but didn’t fight it.

Carrie Post rolled her head on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. She drew in a breath and blinked.

“So tired…,” she whispered before closing her eyes one…last…time.

Tall Tale

2007-09-15T19:36:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile...

The large living room smelled of pizza, beer and cigarettes. The light was dim, setting a mood that was calm and comforting for half the group and stale and dirty for the other. The mix of men and women seemed comfortable with each other – the result of doing a mixer like this every few weeks for the past eight years.

“We should go dancing again. Last time was fun,” purred a blonde woman as she climbed off the sofa and moved to the window. She opened it and drew in a deep, long breath. “God, that’s better.” She turned and faced the small group again and pursed her lips.
“Didn’t know you could smell that from way over there, Tracy,” a thin man said as he leaned to the side and waved his hand over his buttocks.

“Nice, Matt.” Tracy roller her eyes and leaned against the window frame. “Always the gentleman.” She folded her arms over her chest and addressed the group. “ANYWAY…we should go dancing. Maybe salsa this time?” She brushed her blonde shag away from her face and waited for someone else to chime in.

Carl eyed Marta’s chest like a starving man would eye a steak after being rescued from an island after three months of green bananas and salty crabs. Marta loved the attention.

“That is, if Carl can pop his eyes back into his head.” Tracy grinned.

Carl shot her a glance, then smiled a wicked smile over to Marta. “I think Marta and I might be dancing a little later.”

“Slam dancing,” Marta said with a giggle.

“Gawd.” Tracy laughed.

Steven took another swig from his beer bottle and eyed the group quietly from the corner of the small room. He stayed quiet most of the time.

Tracy glanced over to him, then around at the other six. “I heard there was a place down on Fraser and Pine that gave lessons and was half price on Thursdays. I heard that Tyler and Em went there and got free drinks as well.”

“Really? You still see them?” Bert took another drag off his cigarette.

“Do you have to smoke, Bert?” Connie rubbed her eyes.

“My house, my rules.” He smirked and patted her leg. “Once one of you gets a place big enough to meet in, we’ll change this set up around. Until then,” he shrugged and puffed. His voice wasn’t challenging, it just stated the facts as he saw them. Plain as day.

Connie sighed and blurted out, “Second hand smoke kills, you know. I heard you could even get eye cancers that cause blindness and pussy oozing.” She pouted.

Bert shifted and looked back over to Tracy. “When do you even have time to see Ty and Em? I mean, you’re still working with Thomson the amazing overworking man, aren’t you? And, I thought they were moving.”

Tracy nodded. “In September. Tyler is starting a biking resort of some kind, I think. Clothing optional. From that money he made from that lawsuit. Em is going to help him run it.”

“Those are really big in Europe and Las Vegas – clothing optional bike resorts. I’d try one if I wasn’t such a chicken. I think they’re good for the soul. I once read that it actually breeds stronger people. More confident and agile.” Marta leaned back against Carl and took his hand absently. “Did anyone else read about the guy in Europe that cloned that mutant dog? Something changed in the vocal cords – swapped with parrot or something – and now the thing can talk.”

Steven frowned. “What?” He smirked, not believing what he heard. It was just silly.

“I heard about that. Yeah…Europe…somewhere. Damn thing talks. Yeah.” Carl nodded and stroked Marta’s hair. “They’re going to mass produce it and sell it, but it might not be available here in the States due to some sort of 1973 court ruling about dogs and speaking. Something that was overshadowed by the whole Roe vs. Wade thing. Sucks, too, ‘cause I’d totally buy one. I mean, that’s something I’d actually save money up for.”

Before Steven could ask where they heard this insane story, Connie stood and adjusted her skirt.

“Like that monkey thing. This monkey running around downtown Kansas somewhere sign languaging all this stuff about where it was kept and where this…I dunno…zoo Director or something buried this body of some young intern he killed after doing all this horrid stuff to her and stuff.” She grimaced and limped to the fridge, her leg asleep after being curled under her for an hour. Leaning against the fridge, she twirled her foot in the air and winced.

She sighed out, “This monkey signs that the dude killed this chick after doing all sorts of nasty stuff. Like, sick crap. Said the monkey was in tears and might have to undergo therapy. Something.” She yanked the fridge door open and pulled out a beer, popping it open and pouring it into a red plastic cup. She moved back to Bert with the cup in hand and sat among the curls of smoke and sipped at her beverage.

“Poor monkey,” Tracy whispered.

Connie rubbed her nose and muttered, “Monkey’s really deserve better treatment in general. This sort of thing is happening all over the place. I mean, pretty soon we’ll be dealing with crap like that guy down in Texas with the "snakecicles" or that woman with the "pupapult®". That was just plain cruel.”

Steven blinked and stared around the room with disbelief.
Matt glanced down and noticed his fly was down. He zipped it proudly and tossed the nerf football he held to Bert.

“They might let a crowd beat that other guy to death with chicken, you know?” Matt caught the ball as it sailed back at him in a perfect spiral. “Nice, Bert.” He squeezed it and tossed it back. It warbled through the air in a clumsy arc back to Bert. “Yeah, the dog killer guy. They plan to assemble a small crowd and let them beat on dude with chickens.”

“Frozen chicken? And, really to death?” Connie batted her eyes and waved her hand before her face. She glared at Bert.

“No, raw. Or…you know, defrosted.” Matt missed the perfect pass as it sailed back to him and through his hands. “Fucker.”

Steven stood and went to claim the ball.

“They said it seemed right seeing as the guy did that to the dogs when they frucked things up. Eye for an eye justice.” Matt punched the air. “I mean, you can’t do that to animals and expect that it won’t eventually be done to you. Right? It’s Karma.”

“I totally agree with that course of action. The guy beat dogs to death with chicken. He deserves it.” Tracy pushed off the window sill, walked to Bert, removed his cigarette, then rubbed it out in the ash tray. She then bent and crushed his pack of cigarettes with a blank expression.

Connie smiled and watched Tracy moved back to the window.

Bert pulled another pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, removed one of the nails and lit it without thinking. “They should do that across the board. Ya kill someone with a gun, you get killed with a gun. Peal them with a apple peeler and tie them to an ant mound in the desert and YOU get peeled and tied up to one yourself. Take a bite outta crime, man.” He blew a plume of smoke into Connie’s face absently.

Marta and Carl nibbled each others fingers.

“Well, I’m getting one of those talking dogs, man.” Bert sighed. “Gonna find one.”

Steven gripped the recovered Nerf ball and listened for a moment before shaking his head. “That would lead to madness. I mean, they did that in the Middle East. That whole steal and get you hand cut off thing.”

Matt chuckled. “Right.” He laughed. “Cut off their hand.”

“They did.” Steven moved closer.

“Cut it off? Come on – they’d never.” Connie coughed.

“Little wild, don’t you think, Steve? I mean why cut off a hand for stealing?” Tracy frowned.

“They…they did. I think they still do.” He thought. “Like the scarlet letter thing. A big letter A sewed to the clothing to show adultery. Or locking people in stocks in the town square if they did something wrong, you know?” He dropped the ball into Matt’s hands. Matt bobbled it and it and it dropped to the floor.

Marta and Carl broke their embrace and stared over to Steven. Carl sneered, “A letter A?”

Steven looked around the room.

“Just cause you don’t have anything to say doesn’t mean you have to start making stuff up, man. We’ll still hang out with you.” Marta smiled sweetly. “Really.”

“I’m not making this up.” Steven chuckled dryly. “Nothing was made up there – it’s true.”

Silence filled the room.

Steven stared around and waited for the punch line. “Come on! This is friggin SILLY! I mean…you’re talking about monkey’s signing and chicken beatings and talking DOGS and my stuff sounds made up?!”

“Hey, that poor monkey had to witness some pretty nasty shite. Sexual perversion and murder? And who knows if he’ll ever be back to his old monkey self. He’ll most likely be damaged for life.”

“And those poor dogs. Killed by chicken beatings.” Connie snuffled and wiped a tear away with a pizza stained napkin.

“They aren’t going to beat a man to death with chicken ‘cause he killed some dog.”

“Several dogs.” Bert snubbed out his cigarette.

“Marta, we should probably bail, huh?” Carl stood and slipped his coat on with Marta following suit right behind him. “Bert – thanks again for the meeting place and pizza and all.” He mustered a smile and nodded around to everyone but Steven.

Steven tossed his hands into the air. “OH, COME ON!”

“I should go to. Tracy, can I get a ride with you?” Connie stood and hugged Bert as he stood to show his guests out.

“What? I bet you fucking people believe everything you see on TV, too. Bert, fire up the internet. I’ll show you all this stuff is true.” Steve pointed to the computer.

“Let it go, man.” Tracy sighed and ran a hand over her head. “Maybe you should cab it home?” She motioned to Connie and the two of them started for the door with Carl and Marta.

Matt picked up the Nerf and dropped it onto the table. “Guess that’s it.” He moved to the door as well.

Bert shook hands and bid everyone a goodnight as they left. “Thanks again for coming.”

Connie stopped and looked back to Steven. “We’re your friends. You don’t need to lie to us and make up stories. We still love you. Goodnight, Steven.” She pulled her coat from the rack by the door and followed Tracy out into the night air.

Steve stared after the group then turned to face Bert.

Bert stared blankly. “A letter stuck on clothing, Steven?” He sighed and shook his head.

Steven slowly moved to the door, took his coat, and stared at Bert for a moment before stepping out into the cold, dark world.

Parkour Story

2007-07-21T12:00:00.001-07:00

Meanwhile...

Todd slowly drops to the sofa and stares at the TV before him.

Parkour. He’d seen it in films and on TV often and was fascinated. “Urban Running” they call it. He watches the beginning of Casino Royale again and studies the opening scene intently. He notes the style and moves like he has done many times before.

The character in the film bounds through the scenes trying to elude James Bond. He leaps, slides, dives and swings through a complex series of movements. He bolts over tables with his legs before him and strong arms pushing him up and over. He hops and dives through small windows as Bond tries to keep up and catch him.

He’s agile and quick. He moves like a cat.

How hard could that be, Todd thinks. He’s strong. He has grace.

He grabs the remote, switches off the TV and DVD player, and stands tall. He wears his running gear with pride. Top notch and ready for action.

The weather is cool as he jogs towards the school down the street. San Francisco is alive with activity. People move through the streets in cars, on bikes and by foot. The sun shines through the clouds a warm breeze warms him as he speeds up his pace.

He tries a wall hop, leaping towards the wall to his right, catching it with his right foot, and springing off and forward a good seven feet. A classic Parkour move.

Perfect, he thinks with a smile as he runs for the school and up the stairs.

That’s when he sees her. Another jogger on the school grounds. She’s amazing. A ponytail swings behind her head. Broad hips move left and right with each running bound and her body shakes in all the right places.

He grins and moves towards her and the railing of the path she runs on. If he times it right, he will be able to dive over it and onto the railing on the other side – leaping directly over the path before her. Perfect.

He speeds up. It’s all about the timing. He glances over at her and takes in her form again with a sigh, then returns his focus to the railing before him. This will be an awesome way to get introduced. He pictures future dates. Friends they’ll share. The conversations.

“You met jogging?” they’ll ask over wine and cheese and amazing jazz music as the City twinkles out the wind.

She’ll smile at him, then look at the crowd before her and say, “He looked like a gazelle. He jumped OVER the path and onto the railing on the other side like SUPERMAN!”

The crowd will coo and swoon as he holds her tight.

Focus.

He speeds up again. He’ll need good height. He can do this.

Timing his strides, he plants his foot and leaps forward for the railing.

It looked so easy on TV, you know? Seemed like a matter of strength and timing. All about the timing and power. That’s what he thinks.

His foot almost clears the railing. He thinks he has the height, but…evidently he doesn’t.

His toe hooks up and under the railing and stops his leg, but not his body, which manages to clear the first railing beautifully. It arches up and over and his arms pinwheel out before him and grasp for the rail on the other side.

All about the timing.

If he manages to grab the rail, he might prevent his face from connecting with it. He doesn’t, of course.

His mouth connects first, then his eye follows as his head rolls to the side. His shoulder misses the railing completely, letting his hip take the full hit on the metal.

All about the timing, really.

He crumples before the female jogger in a heap – out cold.

Years later, after the birth of their first child, she tells the story again to all the relatives gathered for Christmas dinner. A combination of laughter and pity fills the room as Todd smiles an embarrassed smile. She goes into great detail making sure she remembers everything.

Todd’s bloody mess of a face. The ambulance ride. Todd mumbling through the gauze trying to ask for her number.

She looks over at him and runs a hand through his hair, remembering out loud how amazing she thought he was – still trying to chat her up after making such an entrance.

Her eyes fill with happy tears as her hand slides down his cheek. “He was like Superman.”

Good deeds

2007-07-21T11:06:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile...

The thick blanket of fog drifted over the water, over the sand, over the street, and up Mike Lawrence’s hill under cover of darkness, then rested around his apartment and shrouded it in a blanket of cold haze. When Mike awoke, he slipped out of bed and tried not to wake his girlfriend, then slipped over to the window and pulled the curtain back ever so slightly to see what his City had in store for him.

“Crap,” he whispered.

Susan rolled over to face him – her head raised slightly off the pillow and eyes half open. “Foggy?”

“Yeah.” Mike sighed.

Susan’s head fell back into the pillow with a thud.

Showers, clothing, a small walk and coffee later, Mike and Susan parted ways and climbed onto different busses to head to different parts of the City. Susan made her way towards the Mission District and Mike towards downtown. The ritual was now commonplace among many San Francisco residents.

Mike stood in the aisle of the Muni bus and gripped the handrail as he thought about his life. He smiled as he thought of Susan and the sleepy conversations over coffee that they enjoyed every morning. Mike loved the consistency of the acts, but also enjoyed slipping in a little variety from time to time. Susan always seemed up for some variety. Mike snickered to himself and braced himself as the bus slowed to a stop.

Mike moved off the bus with the other morning regulars and pressed forward and off to the side of the sidewalk to avoid being run down. He glanced at his cell phone – the only way he had of telling time. His mouth slipped over to one side in a wincing gesture as he scanned the sidewalk and bushes. His hand slipped into his pocket and his fingers found the cardboard edge of the small package within it.

“Of course he’s not here today. Classic.” Mike grumbled softly, but not soft enough.

“Pardon me?” The man next to him looked agitated as if wondering what right Mike had to ask him anything.

“Sorry…no…nothing.” Mike smiled and the man looked away and down the street for his bus.

“Hey there, Mikey. What’s the plan of action for today?”

The smell hit Mike Lawrence’s nose before the words sank in. Pungent body odor with a touch of sour beer. Mike made note that some sort of deodorant might help this situation as well. Mike turned to face the jolly voice.

“Hey, Carl. Staying out of trouble?” Mike said with a grin.

“Oh sure…sure.” The older, “dwelling-challenged” man smiled back and looked like a slightly dirty and worn out version of Santa Claus. Mike had talked him into washing up at the rest rooms on Larkin and it seemed to pay off. Carl looked cleaner and that in turn made him seem a little less…out there. Homeless. Carl even said more people gave him money now that he looked more presentable.

Carl pursed his lips. “Good or bad day today?”

“Seems good?” Mike shrugged. “So far at least. How are you?”

“Oh dandy.” The man smiled and the sorry state of his teeth was revealed to Mike. Dentistry he couldn’t afford. This pet project would have to do without nice teeth. “Um…” Carl stopped and glanced to his right as if listening then nodded and sighed to the air and turned back to face Mike. “Right. You’re right.”

Mike was used to this by now. He waited patiently for the conversation to slip back over to him. He cleared his throat and took a moment to clear his nostrils of Carl’s scent as well.

“Mr. Lawrence, don’t take this the wrong way and all, but…you know…but, you able to afford all this stuff every mornin’?” Carl’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I mean, Stevie here has a point. You got a wife ta take care of and a life ta lead. You don’t need to take on keepin’ a hard case like me out of the ditch.” Carl laughed and Mike took another step back.

“I’m not married yet.” Mike winked.

“Matter of time.” Carl waved Mike’s statement way like a pesky insect. “Way you go on about her and all. Bah.” Carl giggled. “Love her like crazy. You take good care of her when we’re off and gone from here, you here?”

Mike nodded and giggled with the old man. His little pet project. The guy was probably a lot smarter than him, for sure. Mike wasn’t going to be able to keep this up if – he thought – when he and Susan got married and had a child. All his gifts would have to stop. Mike had a moment of sadness pass over him like the fog past over the City. Was it fair to provide things for this man, then rip it all away and just stop showing up?

Carl leaned to the side, listened to the air to his right, then nodded and straightened up again. “Stevie says you were lucky he was around ‘few months ago with that whole Susan bike thing, ya know.“

Mike snapped from his drifting thoughts. “Sorry? What was that?”

Carl looked to his right again, then back to Mike. “The other month or so. The BIKE accident.” Carl patted Mike’s arm, then jerked a thumb to his right. “Stevie said if he weren’t there she might have broken that flipper of hers. Lucky he was watchin’ out for her.”

Mike glanced reflexively to the right of Carl, then back. Sometimes, Carl almost had him believing someone was there. “Well, tell him thanks.” Mike smiled, and then thought this was the perfect time for the gift.

He reached into his pocket and slipped the blister packed item from his pocket. “Speaking of Stevie, I got you this thing so that you’re talking to him wouldn’t make people so…concerned. You know, when you walk by talking to Stevie.” He handed the pack to Carl and waited for the reaction.

“What’s this thing?” Carl opened the pack and a wire dangled from a small, ear bud headset.

“It’s one of those cell phone ear things. I figure you could wear it, then slip the cord into your pocket.” Mike smiled. “Brilliant, huh? Make it look like you’re talking on a cell phone, “ Mike slipped closer, “but, really you’re talking to Stevie. See?”

Carl eyed the device, then looked back to his right again. He nodded and mumbled, “That’s right – cell phone.” He shrugged and slipped the earpiece into place. His old fingers worked the small wire that kept the cord wound and tossed it to the sidewalk. He re-thought the act and reached down to pick it up again before slowly standing up again and sliding the cord into the pocket of his overcoat.

“How’s that?” Carl held his hands out.

Mike smiled wide and thought his plan was brilliant. “Cell phone. Yup.” He chuckled. “Works like a charm.” Mike nodded – quite pleased with himself. “Coffee and bagel morning or you want to try fruit again?”

Carl stared at Mike for a moment, then sighed. “Coffee I guess.” He looked somewhat sad and Mike hoped he didn’t offend him by trying to make him change and fit in.

“You ok?”

“Mikey, why do you try and help me anyway?” Carl’s eyes met Mike’s.

“Well, you watch my bike when I ride down here, right? Gotta pay ya something for that service, right?” Mike hunched his shoulders.

“You don’t think Stevie exists, yet you buy me little do-dads to make it easier ‘ta talk to him? You think I’m a loon.” He chuckled dryly, then coughed a raspy angry cough of an old man who’s been outside far too long.

Mike looked at his shoes, then back to Carl. “Just trying to help, you know? I like you, Carl. That’s all.” Again, the corner of Mike’s mouth pulled to the side in a little smirky smile.

Carl thought he looked like a big kid with that silly smirk. A good kid.

“Well, thanks. You’re a good guy, Mikey. Good man.” He nodded for emphasis. “Tell ya what. I’ll let ya buy me a coffee and banana today, but after that – fair’s fair – I get the goods when I watch the bike. You take that cash and by that lady of yours somethin’ nice.” Carl smiled. “You hear me?”

Mike grinned, then whispered, “Fair enough, Carl. Sounds good. Come on – you’re gonna get me fired if I stay out here much longer. I have to get up there to work.” Mike jerked his thumb at the building before him, then turned and moved towards the coffee stand in front of it and ordered two large coffee’s and two bananas.

Carl kept his usual distance and waited patiently for Mike to return.

Steven Cole, dead a good four years now, stood to the right of his long time friend and walking partner Carl Morgan and watched Mike do his good deed with a smile plastered on his pale, translucent face. He patted Carl’s arm and Carl glanced over. “That’s a good kid there. Good soul.” Steve glimmered to the right of Carl. He always walked on Carl’s right when he was alive. He saw no reason to stop now.

Non-Story Post

2007-06-28T11:04:00.000-07:00

Secret Technorati post.
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07_Plans (Rev01)

2007-06-27T20:43:00.000-07:00

MEANWHILE...

I watch as my careful plans fall away like dying leaves during the fall back home on T’sor.

I stare out into the dark and grind my teeth. Fire erupts from the burning ship behind me and I duck as our position illuminated.

The barren, grey rockscape before me crawls with THEM.

I watch with horror as Tac One is wiped out completely. THEY eat at the flesh and bone like a pack of ravenous wolves. Their scales glisten in the fire and moonlight as the horde’s slathering mouths seek out more to eat. THEY looked huge in the vids we reviewed before dropping, but THEY look bigger when you see Them from the ground they stand on.

I press myself back against the cracked and blackened bulkhead and drop slowly down to the ground and signal for the other two teams around me to do the same. Something has gone terribly wrong and I’m not sure what to do about it anymore. I try to stay icy and calm, but a thin line of fear runs through my body and it feels like tiny snakes are crawling over my skin under the Drop Armoplate I wear.

I sign to my Transmissions Op and he crawls toward me while his hand fumbles in the trans codes and boosts my gear signal. Smoke from the burning hulk that brought us here to A’md stings my eyes and the fires that rage around the ship make us far too easy to see in the haze.

I growl words into my gear and scan the area making sure THEY are still feasting on Tac One and not making their way towards us. “This is Lempor Algen Mas – do you read? Lempor Algen Mas to Coral Coras –acknowledge. Priority message. Out.” I think I mutter the phrase twice before they finally answer up in the Heavens.

“This is Lempor Tasit Kin – I read you Lempor Mas. We were trying to reach you earlier, but A’md’s damned moon is scratching out signals to Slan and back. Out.”

I grow angry at the calm in his voice. Safe and secure up there while we and our crashed ship get fed into the meat shredder down here.

Panic shoots through Tac Two like a wave of fire as THEY start scanning the hills in their direction. Tac Two looks to their weapons, then back to their fallen crew mates as if reason and the uselessness of the tools at hand are starting to clash in their brains. The armament is obviously not enough to fight off these numbers. Not without the promised and planned Second and Third Waves from the Coral Coras that we planned on – as yet unseen. We had this planned out. It was set.

I whisper, “I need the position of Waves Two and Three. We’re pinned down and THEY are closing. We have maybe five passes before THEY are on us. Out.” I look up into the star filled sky and search out the blue glow of the Wave’s thrusters, but all I see is a mass of stars.

“We’ve had to change plans, Lempor Mas.” I stare up at the stars as his words rattle around in my head. My mouth goes dry and disbelief creeps in around the edges of my spirit.

Tac Two – closer to THEM by a good 500 clicks – break and stand as the first group of THEM stand and start up the hill towards their position. Half the Tac stands their ground as trained and take aim with their weapons. They are expert shots and don’t waste ammunition by firing wild. They shoot at THEM with focused intent. I watch as the second half of Tac Two breaks into a run – fleeing. I don’t blame them.

THEY move like a flock of birds. All at once without a sound other than their gnashing maws and claw tipped mass of limbs, scales and fur. Their eyes catch the light from the fires burning on our ship and shine silver in the dead landscape of A’md. A place we don’t belong. THEY fall and die as bits and chunks fly from their heads, chests and bodies, but there are more that move forward en mass. They step over their brethren and move on toward Tac Two’s shooters. Towards the enemy. Towards the food.

No use hiding now. THEY have seen us.

Gunfire cracks and echos off the cliffs behind us. Some of the men turn and look to see if it’s our support team on high and are crestfallen when they see that no one is there. I feel sad for them.

“CHANGE PLANS?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I raise my weapon and cut down an advancing creature before it descends upon a member of my team firing in the other direction. IT’s head explodes into a fine spray, but the momentary victory is cut short when three more rip through the man I just saved with their claws and…beaks. I fire into the group blindly as I scream, “WE NEED THOSE BACK UP SHIPS NOW!”

“We weren’t sure if that plan you and K’lys Ba Rak came up with was going to get us the results we needed. We’ve moved the Second and Third Wave Teams back into position at A’md Sett. Return to Coral Coras at once and regroup with them there. Out.”

Blind rage raced through me and I pressed forward through the haze of plasma and projectile dust and backed into what was left of our ship. I tried to find someone – anyone – who was left, but the surrounding area was all bodies and THEM feasting. For the time, THEY were busy filling their bellies.

I reload and check to see how many cart packs I have left as I hiss a stream of curses into my head gear.

“We have no ship! We crashed on entry! We’re overrun! You’ve killed us, Kin!” I move back into the ship until the fire heats my neck armor starts burning the back of my neck. I glance to my right and see the door to the hanger, but it’s smashed in at the top and I doubt it will move and inch. I’m proven wrong as I slide my blade into the frame and pull hard sliding it not one, but two inches before it grinds to a stop.

Lempor Kin’s voice crackles in my ear – the signal barely reaching me now that my Trans Op lays in a heap being torn at by THEM. “Repeat that? No ship?”

I rip the gear free of my helmet and pull two of the bangers off my vest unit. I start to think again as I give up on the idea of help arriving. I hiss, “Change of plans,” and search my area for somewhere to escape to. Somewhere to hide.

The ship rocks with another explosion as the last of the engines plasma fuel maxes out and shoots from the weak point of the pod. The plume of pink and blue energy lights the ground around me and I’m able to see just how bad this situation is.

THEY are scattered all around me – devouring.

I’m stuck on this rock. My plans hop-grenthed over and brushed away like unwanted dust.

THEY chew and rip away at my men and the only thing I can think about is how I can get THEM up to Coral Coras and into the bridge to feast on the real monsters. The real enemy.

THEY chew, then look my way. THEY stare with their silvery eyes and move towards me like a flock of wild, angry and ravenous birds.

06_Karma

2007-06-27T17:48:00.000-07:00

Meanwhile...

The office buzzed with activity. Post lunch and post, post lunch coma was a magic hour for work. Some used that time to complete tasks started in the morning and get things done before leaving for the day while others spent their time trying to look busy for the next three hours until it was time to escape.

Frank Tate was a master of Looking Busy. He stared at computer screens, moved from one end of the office to the other with seeming intent, but his true stroke of genius was the Paper Walk. This involved moving from space to space with papers in hand and acting as if you were either on your way to deliver them or back from an important meeting with a new set of marching orders.

Frank clicked at his pen and shuffled through his latest stack of paper ploy, but stopped when he rounded the lobby desk.

Frank was transfixed and caught like a deer in headlights by what he saw before him. His jaw slowly dropped as he slowed to a snails pace and brought the stack of papers up as if reading them to mask his obvious staring. . He felt his heart skip and, for a moment, thought that this was the heart attack his doctor had warned him about for months. He looked around, then stopped by an empty cube and pretended to read.

Sonnie Fong swayed by the copier and sang something – he couldn’t quiet make it out. He moved closer, still holding the copies he had made and marking them with a pen as if editing, but he was just killing time. The hip movements hypnotized him. The song drew him in. She was a siren. He was sure of it now. This wasn’t appropriate behavior for the office –this lurid leering of his – but neither was a samba by the copier wearing something like Sonnie was wearing.

Her black skirt clung to her demure hips as she swayed. Her light blouse was sheer enough to make out the white bra she wore under it. He bit his bottom lip, sighed a blissfull sigh and moved closer to the swaying figure before him.

Sonnie moved her hips and softly cooed out, “When I saw you first the time was half past three…When your eyes met mine it was eternity…By now we know the wave is on its way to be…Just catch that wave don't be afraid of loving me…The fundamental loneliness goes whenever two can dream a dream together….” She held the printer like it was a dance partner and moved along with her little song.

“Enjoying the show, Frank?” The disembodied voice ran over Frank's spine like someone dripped ice cold water down his back.

Frank screamed. He actually screamed. It was a child's scream - something from the back of Frank's throat. His round body squatted slightly as if the flight mechanism was about to kick in and send him running out of the office for safety.

This was followed by the sound of Sonnie screaming. She spun around to face the embarrassed, red faced Frank Tate and his boss, Ron Marks. “WHAT was that about? You nearly gave me a friggin heart attack!" Sonnie's eyes narrowed and anger became very apparent. Her head lowered slightly like a bulls right before it charges - Frank's red face a sad, red cape substitute. Her impulse was obviously fight.

“Frank was just catching the wave, weren’t you, Frank?” Ron Marks placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder and squeezed. Ron's spash of Cool Cat Cologne caught in Frank's nose and burned. Ron’s smug face beamed. He thought himself charming, funny, and smarter than pretty much everyone else in this office of his. He was “The Man”.

“That song," Frank stammered. "I was going to ask you what it was,” Frank tried to keep eye contact, but broke after a moment and looked down at his crumpled fistful of papers.

Sonnie stared blankly. “The Wave,” she growled. Her eyes were cold and cruel. "Do you have my report yet, Frank?"

Frank smiled a wide, stupid smile. "I was just going to tell you - I have them right here." He raised the mess of papers in his hand.

"Thanks." Sonnie stared dismissively. "Maybe reprint it first. A copy that's not wrinkled and covered with your flop sweat would be nice.”

Frank waved the papers again, glanced at Ron, then moved off quickly leaving Ron giggling.

"Coffee?" Ron said as he smiled at Sonnie and adjusted his tie. His phone purred and he instantly forgot about talking to Sonnie, leaving her talking to herself as he snatched the phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Ron Marks,” he said in his official tone.

Sonnie – used to this after years of this sort of treatment - turned and faced the copier again. She jumped when Ron’s shrill, high-pitched yelp slammed into the back of her head like breaking glass.

“WHAT?! JESUS! When did this HAPPEN?!” Ron paced and ran his free hand over his head, yanking at the hair in back when hand completed the mad scalp scramble. “Vandalism? No shit vandalism!”

A few heads popped up out of cubes like Muscats on a prairie sensing danger. They saw it was Ron and popped back down into their cubes before his blind rage had them working more long hours.

“Ron?” Sonnie moved to Ron and folded her arms. “What happened?” She feigned interest.

Ron ignored her. “Ok…yes…I’ll be right there.” He ripped the phone away from his head and came close to throwing it across the office. Veins popped in his forehead. Sonnie thought he may even be crying.

“What HAPPENED, Ron?” Sonnie frowned. She’d give his a little slack, but her patience was wearing thin.

“Some FU-.” He stopped short, drew in a breath, and started again using a more office friendly tone. “Someone broke into my HOME and SMASHED EVERYTHING!” He kicked at the air. “Smashed things all over. Baseball bat. Killed all my fish! Set my BED ON FIRE!” Ron’s face flared. It looked like his eyes were going to burst from his head. Sonnie wished they would.

“That’s horrible. Is Kate ok?” Sonnie tried not to smile. She coughed and shook it off.

“She’s fine. She wasn’t there or something. DAMN IT.” It was obvious that Ron had not even thought about his girlfriend, Kate, or her well-being in the situation.

“Why would someone want to do that to you, Ron?” Sonnie cocked her head to the side and sighed furrowing her brow. “So wrong. Sorry to hear it. Crazy world.” She tried to keep from laughing and wondered if she was convincing.

Ron stormed off. “I’m out for the rest of the day,” he blurted out over his shoulder.

“I’ll let everyone know,” Sonnie said softly as she watched Ron storm off around the corner. “You dumbass.” She giggled to herself and basked in the visual of some wondrous soul bashing the hell out of Ron’s possessions. His beloved fish and that ridiculous tank whose base cost could have fed five families for a month. His gaudy bedroom where – she shivered – Kate would give herself over to that self centered scumbag.

A vicious smile crossed Sonnie Fong’s face as she snatched her copies from the machine and made her way back to her office. She felt bad for a moment and thought of what it would be like if someone did that to her home. The momentary feeling of guilt passed. “He had to have done something to get someone to that state. Guess there is Karma.” She grinned to herself and moved down the carpeted hallway on soundless high heels.

Frank walked up at the same time Sonnie reached her office door. He held a small, neat stack of papers in front of his chest and managed to smile without vomiting. “Got that report redone for you.”

Sonnie stopped in front of him and stared for a moment before taking the proffered papers. Karma, she thought.

“Thanks, Frank.” Sonnie smiled in earnest.

Frank couldn’t speak without croaking – he knew it. He released the papers and nodded with a smile turning quickly and moving off down the hall to avoid doing something else that would enrage this…Goddess. Maybe later he’d kill a goat in her name. Light a fire and dance around it or something.

“Frank?”

Frank stopped. He knew he should have walked faster. He turned and faced Sonnie. “Yeah?”

“I have a few MP3’s of that Wave song I was singing on my laptop. Want me to email them to you?” Sonnie flipped through the report absently. “There are a ton, but I have a few of the better….you know…versions.” She looked up and her eyes were soft. She didn’t want to lead him on, but also didn’t need Karma rearing it’s ugly head and smashing up her home.

“Um…sure?” Frank smiled. “That would be nice. Yes, please.” He stopped himself from gushing.

“I’ll send ‘em.” She waved the report. “Thanks for this.” She slipped into her office.

Frank smiled. “Cool.” He smoothed the front of his shirt, glanced around to see if anyone was around to witness this monumental event, then moved off back to his side of the office feeling a bit better about himself.