Soyokaze Stories: Miko, My Miko

(There is music at the bottom of this post to play while reading if so inclined. :) )

Miko Takara started to fish another cigarette out of her purse, but thought better of it when her stomach growled.

She crossed her legs and looked at her watch again. The next tram was due in 30 or so minutes. She told herself that she was done after that. He had his chances - three now - and this was it. Making her wait in this old station - it was a crime. A travesty.

A man in a white blazer stood at the far end of the station. He leaned against the railing and puffed at the stub of a cigarette before flicking it onto the tracks. She hated people who didn't take responsibility for their own waste. She was sure that he was leering at her as well.

She looked away as the white blazer man moved towards her. This was the topper for the afternoon. She was fuming.




"The next tram doesn't come through for another 30 minutes. You might want to consider getting on this one. It seems like you've been waiting for a while." The white blazer man motioned to the tram behind Miko. She absently glanced back.

"Yes, I know. I'm waiting for someone." She managed a polite, dismissive smile.

"Ah..yes...yes...sorry to disturb you. I just wasn't sure if you were waiting for...." He waved his hand and laughed the rest away. His waving hand slipped into his blazer as smoothly as a snake and slipped back into view with a packet of cigarettes. His fingers popped against the case and a single cigarette popped out from the top of the packet. Miko was sure this was a practiced move set to win over the hearts of college girls. Ridiculous.  Yet, before she knew it, she was reaching for the proffered cigarette and nodding her thanks. She slipped it into her mouth and waited for him to light it.

"I'm very sorry for bothering you," he said as he lit the cigarette with his silver lighter. Was that a robot on the side of it? Miko held back a laugh. A grown man with a robot lighter.

"Not a problem." She nodded again and checked her watch. He seemed nice enough, but she didn't need company right now.

"Gundam." He smiled a wide, silly smile as he showed her the lighter. "My daughter bought it for me. I have a passion for Mobile Suits."

Miko chuckled. She was caught off guard by the man's honestly. "Who doesn't?" She smiled.

The man looked at the lighter and his mouth curved into a sweet smile. A smile created from fond memories and cherished moments. "She's a sweetheart. She'll be on the 3:30 along with your friend." He pocketed the lighter. "I'm treating her to a night in Soyokaze. Big spender, huh?" He chuckled. "When your friend gets here, you two might want to try Kogane no - the food is fantastic."

Miko nodded again, slightly embarrassed and wondering if he had heard her stomach from way over there. "We'll look for it. Thank you."

"Well, take care." He bent forward slightly and nodded his head. He meandered back to his spot at the railing and she watched as he lit another cigarette and checked his watch again.

Chimes twinkled brightly and a voice drifted over the small speaker above her head.

"The next tram from Kokubunji will arrive in 30 minutes."


••


"I'm so sorry! I missed the train. I couldn't get out of work. I'll get the next one?" The man's voice crackled through the phone like he was talking through paper.

Miko held the phone to her ear, but only half listened.

She stared off down the platform as the white blazer man hugged a lovely girl with a ponytail. He pulled her to his side as they made their way towards the path. He was much taller, but she could see the resemblance in their faces. As they passed, Miko smiled toward them as the girl chastised the white blazer man playfully for still smoking.  The man waved to Miko, but said nothing.

"Miko-san? Miko-san?" The voice again - buzzing in her ear like a mosquito. A fly.

"Don't bother coming." Miko's voice was sad and tired.

"Miko-san, I--"

Miko hung up and turned off her phone before slipping it back into her purse. She stared off towards Soyokaze Temple and took a deep breath. "Bastard." Her stomach growled again and she glanced around to see if anyone was in earshot.

Miko stood and made her way toward the path in search of food.  Maybe that Kogane no place the man spoke about.

She wished she asked what his name was.


  

Shadows

(( A true story ))

Bedtime is usually pretty much the same every night at our house. Dinner is followed by a little light playing where the girls get out their last burst of energy. Then, it's off to bath, pajamas and teeth brushing before we do a family book or three. My wife and I steal bits of time here and there to clean so we don't have so much to deal with post-bedtime. It's rather standard nightly.

Once the books are read, we split into two groups. My wife hangs out with our two year old in the living room while I head back to the girls room with my four year old for one more book. We figure that they can never get enough books and love making the time for them since they love them so much.

Lastly, after I read one book, I tell my daughter a Swan Boat Story. I've made up these Swam Boat Stories since my oldest was a toddler. Tales of the girls on a giant boat that has a swan head front to it with friends and anthropomorphized versions of their stuffed animals - going on adventures and learning from their experiences. It's going to be a sad day when she doesn't want to hear these stories anymore.

We usually chat as she falls asleep before her sister is dropped off by her mother. We talk through the day, dreams, or whatever is stuck in her mind at the moment. I make an effort to get her to be master of her dream life, telling her that her dreams are hers and that she can make them whatever she wants. I let her know that if she can make an effort to think of happier things as she falls asleep, she might have happier dreams once she's out. I hope that she might pick up some of this through repetition.

Last night, as we were chatting, she interrupted me.

"Daddy, did you know that one night I looked down and there was this big, black shape where you're standing? I thought it was Mommy, but it wasn't." 

I tried not to let my own, dark imagination run wild with that one, but the "creepy things kids say" posts came to mind at once. Keeping my "think happier thoughts" mantra in mind, I came back with, "Oh...hmph....it was probably me checking on your sister then." I rubbed her head and smiled.

She looked at me with serious eyes and said, "No, it wasn't you."

I smiled again and furrowed my brow. "Huh...that's odd." 

Thankfully, my wife entered the room at that point with our youngest and I started playing some bedtime music from their Spotify, bedtime playlist. They both fell asleep quickly and I exited.

That night, what my daughter said went through my head around 1am when one of them called out from a dream. I listed for the sound of pattering feet, but they must have drifted back to sleep. A few minutes later, one of them called out again and the quiet, "No, it wasn't you" went through my head again. I got up and moved off into their room to check on them. Of course, they were both sound asleep and safe. I covered them up and tried to fall back to sleep, but couldn't for a long while.

The familiar podcast game started as I tried to get my mind derailed enough to fall back to sleep. But, between the shifting and trying to get comfortable, what my daughter said continued to rattle around in my head. Glances around the room revealed the usual, creepy dark room shadows that are present every night.

"It's the same in that dark as it is in the light." That's what we tell our daughters. I got it from a Rod Serling quote I once read. "There is nothing in the dark that isn't there when the lights are on." 

Most of the time I believe it completely. However, there are times....when I wonder.

Jackson

-->

She sipped at her drink as the rain beat against the window. Streaks of light ran over the wall and she let herself get lost in them for a moment. Her life was turning into a massive cliché right before her very eyes – a woman alone, drunk and maudlin as rain falls from the dark sky.

She rolled her head to the side and made eye contact with her dog. She drained her glass and slid it onto the table before her.

The dog sat and stared blankly at her, still wet from the walk they had just returned from. Wet dog smell filled the room.

“You stink,” she growled flatly. The dog blinked and she grinned at it warmly. “Whose fault is that, right?” The dog said nothing. “Ok, Jackson, let’s go.” She pushed herself up and moved to the kitchen with the dog at her heels. She stretched and snatched the treats from the top of the fridge, pulled a few of the shriveled morsels from the clear tub, then replaced it and looked down that the quiet animal as he stared back at her – tail wagging.

“Delicious?” She smelled the tan sticks in her hand. Her eyes rolled. “All you.” She dropped them onto the kitchen tile and stepped over Jackson as he proceeded to devour the tasty treats his loving master had blessed him with. “At least I’m not a crazy cat lady,” she muttered as she returned to the sofa.

Her eyes rested on the bottle of wine. To refill or not to refill – that was the question. She sighed and decided to wait. The TV beckoned, but this was her “no TV night”.  She’d fight through the evening sans television stimuli.

The evening had fallen apart slowly and steadily. Plans to get a Christmas tree were put on hold yet again. Walking down to the lot in four blocks of rain to pick from the horrid selection, dropping her $50, then walking back dragging her spoils behind her was something she could wait on. Christmas had turned into a hollow Holiday for her anyway. No need to rush the inevitable depression and regret. It would come soon enough. And she had passed on an evening out with her friends yet again as well. Rain bar crawling wasn’t her idea fun.

Jackson returned. He licked as his lips as if to make the moments from the kitchen’s treat last a little longer.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” She smiled a sad little smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy at least.”

“You really should make an effort to get out more.” Jackson said as he stared at her with his big, brown eyes. “I mean, it’s nice having you here with me, but I hate seeing you sitting around, drinking and being sad. You deserve more.”

“You’re sweet.” She leaned forward and scratched his head.

He squinted and let himself get lost in the delightful scrtich of her nails before licking her hand. Then he huffed and said, “No, really, staying in and going for walks and talking to me isn’t going to get you what you really want.” He moved around her legs and to the sofa, then tried to step up onto it.

“Hey! No no – not when you’re all wet! You know the rules.” She pointed to the carpet and Jackson pushed away and returned to his plush Wet Dog Zone. “Nice try.”

Jackson ignored the dismissal. “It’s true and you know it. You need to get out and find another man to lay with.”

“Gawd, don’t put it that way. It sounds awful when you put it that way.” She shivered. “Lay with. Jesus.”

“You know what I mean. Someone you can talk to besides me. Someone to take care of you like you take care of me.” He licked his paw absently.

“Toss dried pig onto the floor for me? Make me lay on a piece of shag carpet on the floor?” She laughed.

“You know what I mean.” Jackson’s voice seemed agitated.

“I’m just tired of looking.” She snatched her glass up from the coffee table.

“You’re looking in the wrong places and with the wrong people, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” She smirked. “And, just because you had one bad experience with Jessica doesn’t make her a bad person. She’s fun to go to bars with.”

“She’s mean.” Jackson’s voice was bitter. He thought back to that time in Golden Gate Park and Jessica’s actions. He’d never forget. Never.  “Anyway, there must be other places to meet males.”

“Men.”

Jackson huffed.

She stood up and grabbed the TV remote from the top of the television and returned to the sofa. “I’ll meet someone.” The television buzzed into life and the images lit up the dark room. “I’ll meet some guy somewhere and we’ll be happy for a few months, then he’ll turn chicken and run for the hills and I’ll have to start all over again. Either that or I’ll freak out and bail on him. It’ll be great.” She clicked through channels, then stopped on The Food Network and refilled her glass.

Jackson stood up and padded over to her. He positioned himself down by her and rested his head on her foot.

The rain pattered against the windowpane softly, but the sound of the people talking about food on the television managed to drown out the peaceful sound of it.

“I like steak,” Jackson said to the TV image of the white haired woman cooking a giant porterhouse.

“Me, too,” his owner said back. “Me, too.”

The Night Crashed Down

The night seemed to crash down around the small truck once Roger passed the main gate and began the long ascension 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 with its many thousands of dollars worth of cooking equipment that seemed to remain unused? Or perhaps the grand dining room area with its wall of old, wavy floor to ceiling mirrors that he was sure had either seen many secrets or were hiding voyeuristic occupants behind them.

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 to 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 too 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. 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 next to the plates and silverware - they never wanted paper plates or anything else, 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. Her eyes locked on his. 

“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. “Thank you. 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 and dramatically rubbed her belly.

“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.

Roger looked up at the house as he started the truck. Behind most of the upstairs windows, silhouettes of people stared down at the truck. At least...he thought they were people. Eight? Maybe ten? 

The front lights darkened and Roger drove away quickly. He ran his long,  forked tongue over his lips and whispered, "Weirdos."

~~

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Happy

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:Day

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 that 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

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.”

S.C.

Read'N'Dash Fiction: Windows

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.

Cake

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. RELAX is written across her t-shirt in bold, black letters. Sliding her hands into the pockets of her tight jeans, she whispers, “I want to get some cake.” 

“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

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.”

Neighbor

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

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.

Nice Guy

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

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

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.

Rocky and Li

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. She was sick,  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.

Watcher

“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

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.