Chrystal Anne

Well, I’ve been through a hell of a week. It involved cancer scares, passing out, and seizures. But, that was all small in comparison to the shot. That shot that the doctor tells you, “you’re going to feel a slight pinch.” Lies?! My booty still quivers in fear thinking about the student nurse walking up. Grinning viciously at me while I drop my pants in awkward silence. Not a second had passed since the cloth left my bum that I felt her cold clammy hands pressed against my hips and cheek. She rubbed her cloth across it and growled “I need you to bend over”. Still n0t getting past the fact that someone is touching my no no jiggles, I don’t respond right away. She clears her throat and the sound is akin to a bear that’s gone on a two day drinking binge. In a half mumble, have slurred speech, I make out what can only be her commanding me to bend over. Gritting my teeth, I lean toward table and bend over. This is the point I realized my fatal flaw. I’ve given them free access and I tense a second before she sticks me. Then I hear the words that will forever haunt my dreams.

whoops.

Whoops?! What do you mean whoops? You don’t point a needle, at my butt, stick me and then say ‘whoops’. No, you cover that shit up by not saying anything. I’m entrusting my no-no jiggles, my NO-NO JIGGLES and you don’t have the decency to LIE to me? You lock that emotion down sister. You bury it so far under the ocean that not even James Cameron can dig it up. And then, my worst fears come to fruition. I’m talking the cabin in the woods kind of back water hill billy zombie fears. The kind that men clench their butt cheeks and push the gas pedal down driving through no mans land. She garbles something out of her fuzzy beak-like mouth, grunts and pulls the needle out. I swear I hear a snicker seconds before the other girl leans down and comes in for a closer view. It doesn’t stop at this. If it did, I’d be running in the fields with the butterflies singing along with Julie Andrews and twirling all magical and shit in the sunflowers. No, ladies and gentlemen, it does not. By now, I’m sweating a little and wondering what could be taking so long. And that’s when I notice the swelling. Angry, jiggly, butt swelling. Instead of doing anything, the two women stare, yes stare and lean in. I’m nothing short of a side show freak as the one points and the other fondles. That’s right, fondles. There was half a second of too much touch on my rapidly growing junk. The fuzzy one lets out a slight grunt and moves to the other cheek. God. Why. This is a joke, right? Someone is going to come around the corner any minute, camera in hand, shits and giggles to be had by all.

If only.

No, she just merrily sticks her needle in the other side. Hey, while she was at it maybe her giggly companion can have a go. A white-hot liquid, that I’m pretty sure could melt titanium squirted into my not swelling, but soon would be, cheek. As if the first side swelling, wasn’t clue enough that hey, maybe her body doesn’t like this stuff. Maybe we shouldn’t put that in there. Maybe the two of them aren’t compatible and don’t want to go on another date. Neh, just jam it in. The right side must have just be defective, a freak of nature and in no way could possibly be biologically related to the other cheek. No sir.

-_-

Now miss giggles is really leaning in and fuzzy beak is poking with her ice-like fondly goodness. My jiggles are not so jolly anymore and nor am I. I’m cursing every fowl word known to man, in English and Japanese, when suddenly, it hits them. Probably somewhere between I’ll murder you dead and cunt-bubble-bloody-blue balls. In either case, the doctor strolls in a half a second later joined with – you guessed it- three other students and they all have a gander at Chrystal’s exquisite bubble butt. Two shots and more giggles and fondles later, I’m in bed crying into my pillow and wondering why me. Why the cold hand, and why, why the grunting. I will never, in my entire life take another shot in the butt. They will try, they will fight, but unless I am unconscious, strapped down and half dead they will never get a needle near my bum again. This, I vow.

So much to be thankful for right now in this sunny spring weather and close friends and family Work on The Forgotten is coming along nicely and I hope to finish it by the end of the year. I need to get off of my rear and update! I know I keep saying I’ve been busy, but really, that’s no excuse. I’ll be updating much more frequently and look forward to hearing what you have to say about all of the things I have to share with you! I’ve made some significant changes to the first chapter of The Forgotten, what do you think

Moonbeams filtered through the curtains, bathing Riven slight frame in their glow. Sensing its presence, her eyes fluttered open ending the trance. Nausea hit her as the aftereffects of swimming kicked in. The ethereal webs remained present in her vision as she fought to type in the proper codex on her scyvie. The scyvie beeped in alarm, noting too much serotonin in her bloodstream. She staggered over to the home medical unit and attached the tube. Like an I.V., it was directly hooked up to the blood stream in the brachial artery, and could be accessed through a sealed panel. The touch screen panel was no larger than an inch in diameter and barely rose a quarter of an inch from the skin. The scar it left was well worth avoiding hospitals. Riven’s scyvie was under review soon to ensure no substance abuse. The thought of being hooked to anything made her sick. May be one person’s escape but it was her hell. It was the altered consciousness Riven didn’t like. Any time her mind wandered, something bad would happen. She once thought she was under for twenty minutes− turns out it was five hours.  She relaxed as the valaxl coursed into her system. It calmed the anxiety and hallucinations after she finished swimming.

It was him again. If only Riven could get her mind to work. There was something about the urgency in his transmission. The most frustrating part was the fact that she could see things, but not the right things. He would appear to her in many trances always the same, yet not. He materialized in hundreds of situations, sometimes as different people, but always the same energy. No matter how good a breaker is, they cannot get rid of their signature, there is always a trace. There were several types of breakers but the kind Riven feared most were ghosts. Levi had always called them wraiths. They wreaked havoc wherever they touched. She knew it was probably just an urban legend, yet still it kept her from the aether. It was the sub-link that only the most experienced breakers traveled. Riven could sense him as he watched her every move. His Umbra is a vibrant hue of red that seductively swims through her mind. She always stayed on the main link, the Umbra, but no matter how hard Riven fought to find his link, he was always one step ahead. Shivers wracked her body as she sat in thought.

The Umbra was a link that connected the soul to the physical body, every living creature had one. She was a bit fuzzy on her history but Riven remembered it being an accidental discovery by Nobel Prize winner Geoffrey Braun just after the year 2033. He was also the first man in the known universe to discover a cure for cancer mutations. She cringed as she remembered how everyone thought cancer was beat in 2021, the worst had happened and the damaged cells began mutating, evading the cure once again. It was almost as if it were placed by fate to keep humans in check. One step closer, five hundred back. At last they could put one atrocity behind them.

It was an unfortunate but necessary discovery that severing the soul from the Umbra resulted in zombie-like behavior. But it was nothing like Hollywood tried to glamorize. Few cases of detachment ever resulted in the soul staying. Once the soul was gone, the person became a hollowed out shell that survived. One good thing came out of the testing at least. We found that humans could connect to one another not only within a person’s immediate presence, but across a vast amount of space. The furthest distance recorded was approximately 238,857 miles− the distance to the moon. Even then, people were unsure as to how far it could go. Research was still being conducted. Curiously, each individual Umbra was unique in color, texture and feeling.

You could have the Umbra infused with nanite receptors that could connect via machine and internet. There was no feeling with machines− only humans or animals could imbue such pleasures. A machine’s presence felt like static electricity, a quick jolt allowing you to fortify an encryption shield against it or, if you wish, permitting entry into your database. As of late she only had one hundred terabytes of free hard drive space. It was ancient, she knew, but she’d get around to upgrading it soon. Not bothering to check the clock she worked furiously to control her breathing as she stood over her bed. She didn’t need to, she already knew the time. A soft feminine voice sounded, startling her.

“Riven, are you alright? Your heart rate is elevated. Shall I call for Doctor Sid?”

“No, Nadine. It is not necessary, thank you. Just a nightmare.”

“Very well, please return to trance or sleep as soon as possible, you will need a minimum of four R.E.M. cycles to function properly. Might I assist you in breathing and mantra techniques?”

“Thank you but no, goodnight.”

“Goodnight Riven.”

Why did Jace prefer that thing? She never understood, though they were made to help, it still creeped Riven out thinking about a cold unfeeling machine monitoring her every waking breath. If it so chose it could even read wave patterns in the mind and detect your mental stability. Not that it could exactly tell, but it was still unnerving. Riven’s thoughts returned on her earlier meditation.     From the moment she could remember her “dream” had always occurred at the same point in time─ the fifteenth of every month at exactly two fifteen in the morning. Slowly creeping out of bed, she strode down the hall to the bathroom. Her joints creaked and popped in protest. Riven froze as visions began to poke through her encryption. Vivid hues of blue stretched across and bonded with her Umbra as the link was formed.

You must listen to me, you are in danger.

She placed a hand on the wall to steady her balance. The user had completely blown past her mandatory password and sixty letter encryption codes. She was thrust into a connection without first being in the proper trance state. The hall stretched on into oblivion and the world exploded with color. Snippets of conversations flew past in garbled nonsense. This was definitely not a government sanctioned link she was in-between, no worse, in aether. Her own web that normally was spun to friends or family members did not surround her and she could for the first time view the vast outer space. The cushion that normally protected her Umbra along with others had been completely removed and she felt as if she could simply float away to anywhere. Eternity was within her grasp, it was wildly intoxicating. She could feel the pull of other’s links. The taste was so powerful she wanted desperately to drift.

Don’t look too long, you will go insane. You are not properly trained.

Riven swam toward the voice but couldn’t find the portal linking them. It was as if the person were integrated within her Umbra.

“Who are you?” she giggled, “This is a private link.” She wanted to be angry but she felt so…free. It was like she was six again skipping along in the gardens outside of her parent’s home. Try as she might she was not able to deflect the connection and it probed once more.

Riven, there is no time you must go. He is searching for you again.

“Who? What is going on, I don’t understand.” The link was pulled and she was thrown back to reality. The urge to vomit almost won but Riven managed to keep it down. The last she remembered was watching the ceiling spin from the floor.

*       *       *

“Riven, Riven. Please, wake up.”

“…Hmm?” waking she gazed into deep ponds of blue. Jace.

“Oh, thank God. You’re alright. What are you doing up wandering the halls at this hour?” Jace leaned back and rubbed his hands over his face. His mumbled words were a little hard to make out but she managed, “You scared me to death. Why didn’t Nadine read your vitals?

Riven brought herself to a sitting position, smoothing her onyx hair behind her ears. Placing a hand on Jace’s shoulder she feigned a smile, “Jace it’s OK, I must have fallen asleep or something. It is two in the morning.” She waved her hand trying to sound casual, “ I was probably sleepwalking. You above all people know my odd sleeping habits.”

He studied her face in a way that Riven knew he didn’t believe her, “That still doesn’t answer my last question. Nadine, wake.” Soft white light filled the room as the soothing British voice responded.

“Yes, Jace?”

“Have you been checking Riven’s vitals? I found her in the hall unconscious.”

“The last log was taken at two fifteen a.m., I checked on her because of an elevated heart rate. Do you need assistance? Shall I phone the doctor?”

“That will be unnecessary, I will phone Scott tomorrow. Prepare for reformat.”

“Understood.”

The glow dispersed and they were left to themselves, or as much as they could be left alone by that thing. Riven seriously wished that he would turn it off every once in a while. Their last quarters didn’t have a Persa-Unit and that was perfectly fine with her.

Gently tugging at her arm she tried to pry away from his grip. When that didn’t work she cleared her throat, “Um, Jace…could you kindly release my arms? I think I’ve lost all feeling in them.”

Jace turned a deep scarlet and quickly let go. Although he was nearly a foot taller than her and had a fierce disposition, he was also equally gentle. He stood for several seconds staring at her shivering form. His response was low and controlled.

“Well, I was just worried, that’s all. Is it a crime to worry about you?” his chin rose slightly in that way that annoyed her when he was about to go into one of his lectures. She groaned inwardly.

“Aside from that, its three thirty in the morning for your information and with everything that’s happened−”

“I don’t want to talk about it, please Jace just go back to bed. I don’t need your lectures right now, OK?” She quieted, realizing she had crossed the line.

Riven knew she shouldn’t have treated him that way. Any time she was upset she lashed out at the wrong person, usually Jace. Biting her lip she searched his eyes pleading silently with her own. She sunk at his guarded expression. Go me. The silence hung tense between them before he turned.

Though his speech was quiet, she cringed at the obvious hurt it portrayed. “You know, one of these days you’re going to turn away the only friend you’ve got.” He walked down the hall and into his room. The click reverberated off the small space ending their conversation. Riven stood in the hall for a moment unsure of what to do. It was probably best to talk tomorrow after duty, let Jace cool off. She retreated back to her room miserable. It was better this way, let him hate her. She closed the door and glanced at the time. Great, four o’clock. She’d have to be to work in a mere three hours. Shaking her head, she crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling. Looks like I won’t be getting those R.E.M’s after all. She sighed and spoke to the ceiling, getting out what she should have earlier, “Jace I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

Tears threatened to spill but she fought and kept them down. Don’t break your promise. It was a vow she intended to keep. Nothing or no one would ever see her cry again. That was a different time, a different person. Tears were reserved for something Riven refused to give into. Giving in meant being hurt, she couldn’t have that, not again. She needed her head in the game, not just for herself but the people she would have to face in the morning. Turning on her side she forced her eyes shut and tried to think of happier times. She could have asked Nadine to put her to sleep but the thought of that made her skin crawl. Instead Riven chanted the mantra in her mind they taught in the Core. She preferred it to normal sleep anyhow, it kept her mind alert.

*            *            *

Grumbling, Riven rolled out of bed as the alarm went off. It felt like she had just closed her eyes. Geeze, I hate the old alarms, Nadine is way better than this hunk of junk. She was about to call out to Nadine then quickly remembered Jace was having her reformatted this morning. Oh well, there was nothing she could do about it and work was work. Not an easy thing to come by these days, especially since the second battle with the Aureaur’s. The ‘Aureaur’s’ were simply filed under one thing in her mind─ inhuman. They had revealed themselves many years ago when she was but a child. Even then Riven had known she was not like other children. She had predicted her parents death, had tried to warn them, but they just patted her head and told her not to worry. If only they had listened to her. They would still be alive today…Snapping back to reality, she stepped into the bathroom and closed her eyes. The auxiliary system felt more abrasive as it sought to connect with her Umbra. Riven steeled herself against its gentle probing making it realize she preferred verbal communication. A charming male voice surrounded her as she walked into the shower.

“A thousand pardons, my lady I did not realize you prefer verbal. I will log it in the system for next time”

“Please do.”

“Command?”

“Stimulating shower massage with muscle relaxant.”

“Understood. Would the lady prefer traditional or interactive?”

“Traditional” she spat, “Never interactive.”

“Apologies, of course my lady. One moment, checking temperature preferences.”

The sweet fragrance of gardenias and fresh cut grass filled the air instantly relaxing her. The scent stirred memories from her childhood. Riven and her best friend Levi would play for hours in the Japanese inspired gardens her father created. He was brilliant with landscapes creating many retreats for the rich and the famous. Though he liked many different designs, he had a particular fondness for modern Japanese and incorporated much of it into his own home. There was something about the crisp clean lines and usability that he adored. She carried that fondness into her own home and like her father preferred no-nonsense design. The latest trend with over the top patterns and gaudy gold everywhere drove her crazy. Riven cringed as she realized that Levi and her father, like many others, were lost to her forever. The fourth wall rose and enclosed Riven as water spouted from each corner.

The warmth melted away the last of her darkened mood and she couldn’t help but relax. It was the only time she felt human. No matter which way she moved each shower head would switch and massage her sore muscles. Sighing heavily, she finished up and called to the computer, “I am done, open please.” The water cut off and the wall receded back into the floor. A robe was hanging ready for her and the tiles felt warm beneath her feet. Ignoring the robe, Riven padded over to the mirror. These were times she loved being in the Core, not many people had clean water, let alone such luxuries as heated tiles. The Core treated them well.

Warm air rushed from below the vanity and above enveloping her and slowly drying her body. She sighed in content and looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Fierce turquoise eyes and sharp features stared back at her. She ran fingers through her straight raven hair in a feeble attempt to style it. Not that it really bothered her. She kept it just below the chin for a reason. Less to grab, less to style, she always said. Simple, like it should be. Frowning, she caught the scar on her bare honey skin− a reminder of what was done to her as a child. The jagged cut ran from belly to groin, an invasion she would never forget. If only she could remember his face. Retching, Riven closed her eyes and tried to forget. Never again would a man touch her that way. At least now she had her hand-to-hand combat and psych training. She wasn’t completely useless like before. Riven finished dressing in her casual blacks and walked from the bathroom. The color signified that she was on clean up and civil duty today. It was hard work but helped keep hope alive, and that was the most important thing.

The last several attacks had kept Riven busy cleaning the wreckage that “they” had left behind. She refused to ever relate them to human beings, for admitting so would make them closer to her somehow. At least with the second war came more work and the economy really needed the boost. They hadn’t been completely defeated at least and the attacks appeared to be slowing. The last attack however was simply inconceivable. Not to mention the endless amount of deaths; so many senseless deaths over the years. The bastards had risen out of the shadows more than twenty years ago from our own base. Referring to themselves as ‘Aureaur’s', they were a small group of several thousand members stationed on the moon. Among them were the most intelligent, strong, and psychically advanced. A slightly more evolved human individually chosen from every corner of the world. Originally, they were scientists placed there to draw plans for colonization. We were looking at several options at the time, even as far as Europa.  However, they first settled on a base within the earth of the moon. The moon’s gravity was far less dense than our own, making the launch sequence faster and fuel efficient. They first gathered as much information as possible on the long journey to make Mars’s surface more inhabitable. They kept in contact every three months. The stretches in time became more extended and the worst was finally made apparent. All of it, the research, the connection to our society, was lost. They were their own nation and felt that they no longer needed our rules. The lunar colonies were the strong, and us the weak.

So it began, they honed their powers, biding their time until that fateful day of rising. All of the world powers came together in one great alliance against them, but to no avail. As time went by the government tried more and more rash measures to bring them down. Not a single weapon worked. It was our minds they invaded. They never used a weapon against Earth. Instead, they infiltrated the great minds of the world and watched as we bombed one another. Their breakers were powerful pulling down every shield put into place. She didn’t know everything involved with a breaker or exactly how they did it, but she knew it was no walk in the park to earn that accomplishment. One of her co-workers at the Core was involved in high level security training, learning just simple exercises when something went wrong and her Umbra severed− ever since Riven had no interest in becoming a breaker.  In any case the Aureaur took them all down one nation at a time as hope eventually died.

One day during a particularly nasty attack of the Aureaur, the nations of South Africa, Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe had been wiped clean with no chances of survival. The government sent salvage teams to scout out the areas where any useful items or materials would be found. Searching through the rubble of what used to be Midrand they stumbled across a very peculiar sight. A young girl, no more than nine or ten years old huddled in the shadows of a small building, her hands pressed over her ears. A little tattered bunny was laid at her bruised and bloodied feet and her gown was drenched in blood from the waist down. The leader of the salvage team padded over to her his gangly body awkward and unsure. He brushed back his long black hair and offered his water with kind eyes and a smile. Silently, she reached out her arms to the soldier with tears streaming down her face, “momma” she muttered just before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed at his feet.

It was Jace who had come to her aid that day. Only fifteen at the time, Jace was a child himself trying to find work to support both him and his sister. Though he worked hard Jace’s sister died two years later of some strange and unknown disease. He always believed it was heartbreak that killed her, Karina, his sister, had mourned her parent’s death until the day she drew her last breath. Jace took Riven in out of the kindness of his heart when nobody else felt they had a use for her. A “nuisance” they said and was content to leave her be. He sensed she was something special and fate had ordained their meeting. It was then Riven decided she owed her life to him and would work hard and strive to do her best. She joined the Core with Jace and dedicated her life to helping others like herself.

Exiting their loft, Riven turned down the long narrow corridor before it opened up into the main floor. Familiar dark red carpeting with the entwined golden border greeted her as she walked toward the glass lift. Soft white light held up by delicate floating sconces lined the floor.

“Good morning, Riven” Dressed in his usual red and black uniform, Arthur stood behind the front desk. His graying hair was slicked back and made him look more dignified than ever. His dark skin radiated this morning and he appeared more cheerful than normal.

“Morning, Arthur. How are the kids?”

“Oh just fine, daughter starts the Core next week. You all go easy on her now.” He winked at her, his usual jovial self. It always amazed her how strong he was. His wife, Belinda, had died just eight months ago from cancer they didn’t know she had. It tore her apart knowing how much Arthur loved his wife. The worst part was that the disease had been curable. If only they’d known sooner.

“You take care, Arthur OK?” Smiling, she continued across the room.

“Will do, you too dear.”

Getting on the lift, she descended down to the shuttle heading for Tokyo. What was left of it anyway. This is going to be a long day, she thought as she strode toward the vehicles.

?

My, how the time has passed! It’s like I was just on here yesterday and low and behold it was January! My goodness, I have a lot to add. I was excited to get back into contact with some of my close ladies, I missed them terribly and now we are going to get together soon! I can’t wait.
http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a170/Redlady1610/430200_10151311749015161_557205160_22880751_494043105_n.jpg

Here is my little girl, she is so cute and will be turning one on March 1st!

My muse has been shining upon me. I’ve entered a world I’ve never seen before and I love what I see. Life has been full of wonder and everything looks bright and lovely. I’ve felt so inspired my fingers may burst with the amount of writing I’ve been doing. When life takes an interesting turn, I’ve learned to accept and embrace it for as long as it will permit before the winds of fate blow. I suppose that is what keeps it interesting. In either case, keep coming life, I love what you manage to surprise me with for each year. And I promise to always see the brighter side of things, no matter what.

Remember that surprise I talked about? I’ve decided to post the full version of Hell’s Gate for free. I just need to format it properly and post it. Surprise I hope you enjoy it. Coming soon~

HNY everyone. My NY’s resolution is to definitely get more writing done and see more of my friends and family. Life is tough to get around with a new little bundle of love in my life, but she’s nearing a year old and Mama’s super excited to start seeing her walk and talk. (she’s starting to take her first few steps and babbling like nuts) Mama’s little social butterfly <3 I finally got around to cleaning our upstairs room and turned it into my craft/cosplay room, I can’t wait to start sewing again! I miss it terribly, and now that I’m almost to my pre-pregnancy weight I can finally start wearing normal clothes again.

The Forgotten has taken an entirely new route (you may have noticed I’ve taken it down) and so (as things so happen) I will be re-vamping the story, however I feel this is the best way to go and my inspiration has been soaring lately and I’ve been writing away. I have a surprise for you all soon, hope you will like it.

Take care and stay safe –
Chrystal ~<3

WARNING – Do not read this unless you are at least 13 years of age, it has a few graphic scenes and some sexual innuendos. So use discretion if you are a parent and you are letting your child read this. Just wanted to let you know what to expect.

This short story is one of the darkest pieces I’ve ever written. I wanted to delve into the mind of a serial killer. Since my major in school is Psychology (I plan on obtaining a Doctorates in it.) I wanted to use what I have learned and the psychology behind what makes a serial killer. I don’t claim to exactly know, since we are still uncertain as to what causes this in people, and of course everyone is their own person, but I tried to really think about what would be personal to this person and how they would react or feel. I hope you enjoy this.

I pull the hoodie over my face, skirting behind Phase I in the west side apartments. I move quickly, rubbing my hands together and puffing little spurts of warmth into them. They’ve long turned into handscicles, and I vigorously alternate blowing hot air and rubbing them together. Phase I is much nicer than our apartments in Phase II. They even have platinum cards that unlock the gym by the office. Our apartments don’t even come with a stackable washer and dryer, let alone other amenities. Each building in Phase I contain two units, compared to our four, and the parking is covered. It takes about seven minutes to walk from Phase II to Phase I. I’ve timed it and with a marginal error of .08 seconds, varying on the speed of the walker, I find that a brisk pace clocks in at mostly seven minutes. I have not tested running.

Huffing up the final hill, I stop, and stare out across the lot. The buildings in Phase II look like badly colored models, each strung with mismatched, twinkling lights. Travis and mine is one of the top units furthest to the left. Nestled close to the woods, it is the very last building to Phase II, and the only patio not blinking with festive lights. I tear my eyes from the gingerbread scene and lumber over to the parking spaces by the gym. My hands feel cold and sweaty. I cannot stop them from shaking, so I stuff them into the pockets of my jacket. I pray the thin fabric keeps them constrained, at least, for now.  Tonight is the night I’ve been planning around for three long weeks. I crouch behind Tita’s brand new Infinity GI and watch as the thin figures run in place. The whir of the cycles and treadmills can be heard through the glass.

Tonight, the gym is packed with women, beautiful women, but only one is worth my time. Still, I take my time and marvel at their glistening, pale skin bouncing off of the harsh glow. It rivals the moon’s brilliance from the back alleyways in Fox Hollow. I stumbled across the neat little patches of homes several months ago. I’d fallen asleep and missed my stop after working a double shift. The moment I stepped off of that bus, I knew this would be the place of my future home. The stars were brighter, and the air smelled like roses after the rain. I inhaled it like a well seasoned addict snorting a line of sugar. The hour bus ride and two hour hike, as I would come to find out, is well worth it. I envision myself sitting on one of the grand balconies, sipping Cognac and smoking Cuban cigars. Travis always makes fun of me for it, calling me old man. It doesn’t bother me, not really. I’ll get out of this place someday. I know it.

Lately I’ve been at the library studying every medical book I can get my hands on─ especially anatomy books. Sometimes when Travis and I get lucky, we leech off of our neighbor’s wireless, and I can search up terms I do not understand. I even started riding the bus to the local community college and asking questions. The advisor always has hair out of place with a smile that never quite reaches her eyes. She’d look okay if she weren’t so fat. I figure I can stick it out there for a while, get the basics, and then maybe go to the university downtown. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. The human body is a symphony of evolution. It changes tempo, and accommodates for the key changes. Only genes matter. And each strand of DNA can make up the hellish discord people try to forget, or the heavenly chorus line that everyone remembers. It doesn’t discern poor from rich. Genius can be born from the streets. You just got to know the right people. People like Tita’s father.

It wasn’t just about that though. I knew I wanted her from the first time she handed me her bags. I managed to snag a job at the Hilton carrying luggage for fifteen an hour. Not bad for someone like me. I always end up working at the usual places, retail, fast food, stuff like that. I had to borrow money from Travis to buy clothes for the interview, but I’ve already paid him back. I always pay back. I’m going to have to buy more clothes soon, or my boss will catch on that I lied about where I live. You got to lie when you aren’t born into wealth. It’s just how it is. Fake it till you make it and all that crap.

I remember being lost in Tita’s perfectly straight hair. Each strand was meticulously arranged to frame her face and shoulders. It ran down to her waist and was dark, darker than those gourmet chocolate bars that cost five dollars at Central Market. We talked the entire week she was at the doctor’s retreat. I found out her dad was one of the top neurosurgeons in the U.S., and was hosting a lecture that week on the new findings of children with Autism. Tita really wasn’t into that. She was more into anatomy, namely surgery, like me. It takes vast amounts of patience and deft slicing skills with a scalpel. Her knowledge of the human body was more than spectacular. It was a form of art. Somewhere, in the vast pool of human dredge, our bodies evolved from similar genes. It couldn’t have been coincidence that she stood before me, barely twenty-three, and almost through with her doctorates. We are the same, even in age, and I realized then, like now, that I need to show her my art. I can be just as precise. I’ve been practicing mostly on small to mid-sized animals in the woods behind Fox Hollow.

I am careful to always bring a change of clothing and shoes. But then, the need has progressed, and I have found larger things, softer things.

It is amazing how easy women will follow a good looking guy into the woods. Even some I barely know. It’s easy to single them out and know where to go. The bars are the obvious place, but those types quickly bore me. I like to find the odd ones that visit internet café’s or libraries. When I am able to get internet, it is really easy to pick out women in chat rooms. They always leap at the chance to meet up. One look at me is more than enough to convince them. And then off we go, hand in hand to their place of resting. Wealthy women are the most exciting. They assume that I target them for money and open their pocket books. The look they give me when I open them instead is breathtaking. I never touch any of them. It makes my skin crawl thinking of kissing their diseased, eager mouths. Only Tita could get a rise out of me in that way. We are the one percent of better equipped, and more evolved species. Not like my stain of a father. He died and left six kids to fend for ourselves. And for what, just to get his next fix.

I’ll never forgive him for what he did to Fe, and she was only fourteen. To a druggy, Fe was an easy meal ticket. No one questioned a hooker’s age. In fact, they probably knew. Fe’s beaten, and half burned body was dumped from the senator’s limo behind the local Chinese buffet. I was the only witness, and no one believes a nine-year-old boy. When the senator drove past, he handed me a crisp, hundred dollar bill. I held on to it for seven years, and then stuffed it down his whore of a daughter’s throat as I plunged my knife in her left eye. No investigation was ever opened for Fe. She was born from an immigrant family. The other kids were legalized through the state and got into okay homes. One of my younger brothers even got into med school. I was too old for anyone to want me. No one wants a boy past the age of five or six─ no one, that is, except Mal. I never told Travis about him, probably never will. I don’t think too much on that anymore. At least, I try not to. But sometimes it just kind of boils up all red and I have to…fix it. That’s why I need to get out of this place, go to school, and then work on my real passion. At least then I won’t go to jail for what I do. I’ll get paid to do it. It will help me become acceptable to society. It cracks me up to think that some street kid like me is going to cut on all those suits with dick for brains.

I don’t want to think about that now though. I want to think about the silky smooth touch of Tita’s bare skin, and her beautiful toffee colored eyes behind square rims. I want to think about her hand brushing mine, as she slipped me a fifty that last night she stayed at the hotel. Through our long conversations, I gathered where she lived. I’ve been watching her ever since. She never misses a day of working out. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays she runs four miles. Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays are gym days. And Sunday she rides fifty miles on her bike. During the day, she attends school, and in the afternoon she shadows under Dr. Stein at Presbyterian Hospital. Every second Friday night, at exactly 10 p.m., she carries out a large, black duffel bag and is dressed for a night out. Her friends must meet her, because I never see anyone visit Tita’s apartment, not even her father. When she returns at 3 a.m., she is dressed in casual clothing, usually jeans and a tee-shirt. I’m curious as to where she goes on these nights, and what, if not whom, she is doing. I’ve never seen her with a man or woman. Her driving is unpredictable. She drives the wrong way down one-way streets, and never manages to get into an accident. It’s almost as if she knows someone is following her. Travis’s Camry is no match. Even though Travis has a car, he doesn’t want it. He prefers riding the bus, so I’ve been steadily paying off the car. He says I only owe two grand, and then the car is mine.

I glance down at my watch─ it was almost time for Tita to get on the treadmill. I know I’m being pathetic, but you never saw such bouncing beauties. The things I wanted to do to those tits. In heels Tita is almost as tall as me, but her bones are small and delicate. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds. I never thought about that before, I guess. But tonight, it is important.

My teeth chatter as I jump up and down. Next time, I’m borrowing Travis’s coat. He never leaves the apartment much anyway. Yellow blinking lights catch my attention, and I bolt across the parking lot toward the drink machines. I’m barely able to round the corner before the guard drives up. The brakes squeal, and from my peripheral view I see that he has stopped. I can feel him scrutinizing my every move as I dig for change. Please let me have the right pants on. I relax as my hand grasps a crinkled wad of ones and I pull it from the stash. It’s going to cut into my dinner fund for the week, but this takes precedence.

“Hey.” He says.

I freeze at his commanding rumble and turn. I pull the cowl from over my face and smile warmly. You have to disarm your opponent early, before he catches on. I saunter toward him, wearing the fake grin. I’m good at making it reach my eyes. I’ve mastered it. My voice raises an octave and I take on a casual tone. I once read an article that people find higher voiced men to be non-threatening.

“Evening officer.” I say. The guard likes this form of respect and smiles. His face and hands are weathered, no doubt from years of hard labor or service. He walks with a limp, but tries to keep it hidden through controlled steps. If I had to guess, I’d say ex-military. He looks like a real hard-ass, even when smiling.

“Haven’t seen you around. New to the building?” he asks. He’s testing me. He’ll be looking for a change in speech or tone that will give away my true intentions. This is his turf─ he’ll know the tenant list. There is no sense in lying.

“Oh, no sir, I actually live in Phase II. Just came up to see my girlfriend. She’s in the gym working out right now.” I gesture toward the glass building. “She’s the curvaceous brunette on the far right.”

The guard lets out a low whistle, as he turns back to me. “I’ve been eyeing that piece for a while now.” He admires her for a second too long and I want to rip out his throat. Then he turns back.  “I’ve never seen you with her though.” He says. I can tell I’m making him uneasy. I bother him, but he can’t seem to guess why. I let out a chuckle and scratch the back of my head. “Well, technically, she’d be upset if she saw me out here. If Daddy finds out we’re dating he’d flip a bitch.” I lean in. “I just like to watch her run, if you know what I mean.”

The guard leans over laughing and slaps his knee. “Ah, hell, is that why you were out there crouched behind the cars like some weirdo stalker?” Someone has spotted me. This is unacceptable. I burst out laughing with him and nod my head. In my haste, I’d forgotten to fully scan the area tonight. There was no room for error and now my whole evening is compromised. Sooner or later though, hard-ass was going to ask Tita about her boyfriend. Once he finds out the truth, there will be no stopping him. No, I just have to take my chances and go through with the plan. The most the person probably saw was a guy with a hoodie standing behind Tita’s car. No defining features or giveaways. This is going to work. It has to.

Shaking his head, the guard gets back into his golf cart. “I’d do the same if she were mine.” The beep from the engine sounds, and the guard starts it up. “Don’t go around scaring my tenants anymore, alright?”

I put on my best guilty face and incline my head. “No problem, won’t happen again, I promise.” I wave as he leaves and return to the soda machine. I need a plan. No doubt he will wait to see if I return to Phase II. I got off lucky. He forgot to ask what apartment I live in. I stare at the white letters that are scribbled across the red machine. Maybe they will give me an answer. The black trim is stifling over the red glow. I want it to melt away so I can get to the cool innards. But it is strong. The only way to get my prize is to wait while the coins fall in place and the can comes to me. I just need to push the right button. I smile at the blue and red can that pops out. I know what to do.

*          *          *

            I shouldn’t have gone for my ribs. I think one may be cracked. I had to keep the wound out of sight. Sergeant Guard thinks I don’t see him behind the first building in Phase II. His bulky form is easy to make out against the delicate branches of the dogwood. A stench of recently put out black and mild cigarillo permeates the air. Mal’s favorite. The red tinges my vision, but I push it down. I’m too close, I can’t lose it now. I manage to make it up the stairs and into our apartment. Travis is curled up in his usual spot on the couch with his laptop. His mop of brown hair is barely visible over the monitor. Like most eighteen year olds the computer is his life. The only difference is Travis has social anxiety disorder. I usually have to do most of his errands for him, so I know this will be hard.

“Travis, help.” I wheeze, falling to the floor.

He jumps up and runs to my side. I feel guilty for tricking the kid, but this is the only way. I’m running out of time. In thirty minutes Tita will have finished. By now she’s left the treadmill and has moved to weight lifting. I’m impressed by her leg presses. The muscles beneath her flesh must be lean and strong. It will be a real treat to see them up close. I growl as Travis picks me up and walks over to the couch. I tell him I’ve been jumped by some punks in Phase II, he buys it. In less than ten minutes he’s off to pick up some meds from one of his online buds across town. I know the bus route. It will take him two hours and forty-five minutes to return. That leaves me just enough time. I hand him the hoodie and tell him to bundle up, it’s cold outside. I smile as he pulls the hood over his face and walks out. I’ve chosen my double well, we have very similar body types and from the distance the guard would be standing, we’d look identical.

Five minutes and fifty-eight seconds later, I’m in front of the gym. I’m hoping she remembers me. It has been three weeks since she last saw me. The guard will get bored once he is convinced I am really waiting on the bus, and will leave. I pray he doesn’t confront Travis to find out why I am leaving, when I am supposed to be waiting on my girlfriend to get out of the gym. These are risks I just have to take. Tita is looking at her wrist now and moves to grab her coat. Right on time, she never disappoints. I walk over to her building and reach for my keys. I know she is right behind me as I pretend to be lost, and looking around. I hate improvising but this will have to do. I take one final look and start heading back to the path. I’m surprised to find her watching me. She hasn’t said anything, and I’m nervous she doesn’t remember. I try to walk past her, but she steps in my path.

“Jason?” her tone sounds guarded. I have to watch what I say.

I look up, feigning surprise. “Yes?”

Tita is staring me down like all those rich people do when I walk through their neighborhood. I’ve had the cops called on me twice for just walking down the street. I’m tempted to do her here, right under the stairs, but then some jack-ass walks out of his apartment to smoke. I stick my hand in my pocket and run my thumb along the blade. I know it is just a dumb thought, but I’m still irritated by his intrusion. By now, the red is making my head throb, I can’t last much longer. I need release, soon.

“What are you doing here?” Tita asks. Her eyes, normally soft and inviting, have turned to crystallized amber. This is not how I wanted things to go. I need to make her believe, it’s my last chance.

I look to the ground and cough, trying to look flustered. “I, well, just moved in. I’ve been at my parent’s this last week, so this is my first time seeing the place after we moved all of my stuff in.” I laugh, feeling like an idiot. “I think I’m a bit lost.” She doesn’t look convinced. I’m debating my next sentence. If Tita doesn’t buy anything I say, she’ll never invite me in. That’s why I nearly trip over myself when she does.

“My goodness, you poor thing. I’ve been there before.” She gestures up the stairs to her apartment. “You want to come up for a bit?” Her shoulders relax and she smiles warmly. I turn toward the building as if hesitating on her invite. Then I turn back.

“Sure.”

*          *          *

            Tita prattles on about the weather outside as she puts her coat on the wall. She offers to take Travis’s coat and I let her. I finger the chloroform cloth in my pocket. I’m safe from the guard for now, but that doesn’t worry me. What does is trying to get to Tita’s car with a hundred and twenty pound duffel bag. Her apartment is just as I pictured it; Clean, and white. Her minimalistic taste is almost unbearable, I want her now. I want to see the red across the crisp, white rug. I want to flay her honey skin on the deep walnut flooring.  But I restrain myself. Sooner or later she will have to turn her back and I will pounce. She turns on the T.V.

“Would you like any tea?” she asks. Yes, I do. Then Tita walks away. She leaves a trail of perfume. It’s flowery and fresh like the smell of linen. I slip off my shoes and stand. The stove is in the back of the u-shaped kitchen and her back is to me. My hand is a miniature earth quake as I pull the cloth from my pocket and soak it with chloroform. I need this so bad.  Just a few more feet and the red will go away. All the grunting men that stood over my naked, bent form will go away. The tiny razors and cigarillos carving into my flesh will go away. Mal will go away.

I’m behind her when she turns and smiles. Seconds later there is a sharp pinch in my neck. I drop to the floor and the world goes black.

*          *          *

            I wake in an all-white room, the brick is gray and there is plastic lining the floors. The humming and beeping of the life telling machines drone on. I cannot move. She stands before me, an angel in white. She is adorned in a blue sash that is wrapped once around her thin neck and drapes on either side of her breasts. It is tinged in various hues of red, some stains newer than others. Tita leans so close I can feel the heat radiating from her body.

“I saw you watching me.” She whispers. She rises up then pulls something from the table on my left. My eyes stretch as far as they can and I’m barely able to see the outline of a black bag. I look back to her, the knife glistens in her hand like a miniature sword. I see the same eagerness in her vision that often tinges mine.  My gaze never leaves hers as she makes the first incision below my sternum.

I hope you enjoy this, just a little short story I wrote this semester.

The rain pounds, like thousands of toy soldiers beating their drums. The wind moans off-key between the screen and my window. It is the second night of the relentless March drench. I hate this time of year. I lie in bed, unable to pry my eyes away from the evil face that lives in the ceiling. Its mouth stays in a permanent howl of agony, and its eyes are small and beady. Sometimes I swear it moves from above my bed to over the door. It is probably waiting on the perfect time to snatch and gobble me up. That’d teach them. Why Grandpa won’t just hurry and scrap the popcorn off of my ceiling, like he did for both his and Mama’s room, I’ll never know.

Mama teases that it’s because I don’t listen. Good children are supposed to be in bed after nine, Mama says. Good children mind their mamas. Most importantly, good children do not go adventuring in their best clothes and blame it on following a made-up dog. I get so mad when she says this that I could split a coconut with my mind. Just because her old eyes can’t see him, doesn’t mean that he’s not real. I don’t want to give him a name. It somehow feels like it would cheapen him. How would Mama know anyway? She’s never gone farther than twenty steps from our garden. He lives deep within the woods at the heart of the forest. There is a small clearing where he waits. When I walk to him, he turns his somber eyes to me and wags his tail. I try telling Mama about this, but she just says, “Stuff and nonsense” and then she sends me to bed hungry. I mostly like to visit him at night. My hand brushes across his downy fur and we sit in silence. I always feel so strong sitting next to him that I forget about the sickness. Mama would have a conniption fit if she knew I was prancing outside in my bare feet.

The bout of coughs started the day I saw Alice. I gave her this name because she looks so much like the girl I used to play with when I was little. She always stands outside, staring from the edge of the forest into my room. I cannot see her face, or much of her body, she keeps them covered beneath a coat. Each time I see her, she moves closer, and my will becomes weaker. The night she scratched at my window, I was bed ridden for three days. After the doctor came by, I was able to walk again, and Alice disappeared for several months− until last March.

During last year’s drench, after the third night, I heard strange thumping sounds outside of my door. I was too scared to open it, so I crawled on my belly and peered beneath the crack. Two black eyes and stringy dark hair stared blankly at me. It was Alice. I’ve never sprinted for my bed and leaped beneath the covers so fast in my life. I don’t know how she got in, but she had. I recited the Lord’s Prayer until dawn, but that didn’t work. The next night I heard more thumping, followed by swift pacing on the other side of my door. I was glad for whatever reason kept her outside of my bedroom door.

From the third night of the month until the very last day of the drench, Alice kept up the pacing and thumping last year. I was so sick that I couldn’t keep down food, let alone move from my bed. It was the most miserable two months of my life. Then, as soon as she came, Alice went away. All that remains of her existence today is a faint groove in the wood. I, of course, got blamed for it and received two nights without supper, and got a whooping. I’ve given up trying to explain Alice to Mama. It only gets me into more trouble. I hope that Alice at least has the decency of not coming back until the third night of the drench this year. And I keep wishing this, as I stare up at the howling face in the ceiling. As I hear the first thump. Alice is starting early this year. Bang, thump, scrape. Bang? This is new.

I sneak over to the window, and pull back the curtains. The drench responds, falling harder against the house. In the distance, I can barely make out the golden fur and wagging tail. He is much farther this time, but I can still feel my furry friend watching me. I motion that I’m coming out and lean down to open the window. Forget staying in this house, I’ll just keep him company until dawn. Let Alice bang, thump, and scrape her little heart out. I’m tired of getting sick. My hand touches the latch, and I nearly jump out of my skin when the high pitched voice squeaks above me. “Would hurry if I were you dearie.” I gape at the ceiling, unsure of what to do.

“Who said that? Alice?” Bang, bang, thump, scraaape is my only answer. Something taps at the metal just below the doorknob, and it sounds impatient. Tiny pointed nails waiting to−I try not to think about it. Where is Mama anyway? Can’t she hear any of this from down the hall? I know she keeps her door open at night. Then I remember we are still in the middle of the storm. The giant oak tree brushing against the roof is probably drowning out the noise. I decide to heed the voice’s warning, and I undo the latch and pull on the window, but it doesn’t budge.

“Nailed shut, I’m afraid,” the voice chirps.

Annoyed, I look up. “Well then, how on earth am I supposed to hurry?” It’s a peculiar feeling, talking to the ceiling in the middle of the night. Mama must never know. I already see some quack twice a week for the dog and Alice comments.

“Break the glass, of course,” it says.

Naturally, let me pick up my vanity chair, and we’ll smash it through the window. Mama would just love me to pieces then. Bang, bang, bang, scrape tap-pity-tap. Alice is getting more creative. I cross my arms and tap my foot. This is ridiculous. Why am I hiding from another little girl? What’s the worst she can do? Bite and scratch me? I need to stop being a ninny and open the door. I march three paces then halt. I know why I can’t open my bedroom door. Alice is anything but a normal little girl. I know if I pull open that door and face her it will be the end of me.

“Better hurry,” it taunts. I want to slap that voice from the ceiling, but I know it is right. I dash for the chair and smash it against the window. I tense at the horrible screeching outside my bedroom door. She knows I’m trying to escape. I hear her footsteps descend down to the living room. What was Alice doing?

“Now you’ve done it.” The voice sounds like it’s enjoying this a little too much.

“What have I done?” I ask.

“I didn’t say break it loudly.”

I want to strangle the ceiling, and then I realize how crazy that is. Oh well, I’ve gotten this far. “What do you mean break it quietly? There’s no such thing,” I say. The front door creaks open. Each pop and groan feels like a nail pounding shut the lid on my coffin.

“Oh, there’s always a way,” it quips. “Like a well-placed glass cutter, had you have had the sense to look around.” It sniffs matter-of-factly and clears its throat. Ignoring the insult, I glance around the room and see a silver glint in the moonlight. There, on my vanity, is the darn glass cutter. I can just scream. The screech bellows from the right of my window. Then I hear Alice begin to climb up the drainage pipe.

I don’t have time to think. I wedge the chair in the window and pull the curtains shut. Then I streak toward my bedroom door. My hand twists the doorknob when I stop. Something isn’t right. Why would it be this easy? I plunge down to the floor and peep out. I freeze at the cold, dead stare of Alice’s eyes. Her grin twists upward, a sea of black. No teeth, no tongue, just dark and nothingness. My eyes linger on the swirling soot that inhabits her insides. It is busy, flitting uniformly about as a swarm of insects would.  I jump up from the floor and back away from the door. How could she possibly be two places at once? The chair jiggles behind me, as the scraping drags behind the door. I pray that I am able to make it until morning, the doctor will be there. I don’t know why, but Alice always disappears after the doctor comes and gives me the burning medicine.
Alice has not moved from the floor, there must be something keeping her back. Thank you Lord, I pray. After several minutes, Alice’s shadow pulls away from the door. I no longer hear her footsteps but the rattling at my window has gotten louder. I take a chance and look beneath the door. Alice has gone, now is my chance to run to Mama’s room. My hand claps the knob.

“Not very bright, are we child,” the voice states. Now it’s just being rude. “And just what do you mean by that? I’ll have you know I’m top in my class at Bishop’s Middle−”

“School,” it interrupts, “has nothing to do with your predicament.” It yawns loudly before continuing, “You need to get to get outside to your friend. I thought we’d long established that much.” We most certainly had not, but I let this slide.

“Yes,” I say playing along, “but how would one do such a thing? You’ve clearly made it known that I cannot go out the door, though goodness knows why not.”

His next sentence flies out, “Goodness knows why…” he pauses, and takes a deep breath. “Listen here, you insolent child, I’m trying to save your life when all you’ve tried to do is have me removed from this ceiling.” He spurts something intelligible, and then shouts, “I’ve half a mind to up and leave.”

I stand by the door with my mouth gaping so wide I could catch a school of fish. This guy’s a total loon. How am I supposed to know what to do? It occurs to me then that the chair has stopped rattling in the window.

“Where did she−”

“Go?” the voice interjects, “She’s right where she’s always been, by your bedroom door.” I’m tired of him cutting me off. Maybe I will have Grandpa remove him in the morning.
“Well, excuse me for not knowing that,” I say crossing my arms. Then it clicks. I think back to the chair rattling in the window. Why did Alice not burst through the window when she had the chance? I turn my gaze to the ceiling at Mr. Beady Eyes. I can feel hope welling up, I pray it is not misplaced.

“Alice didn’t break into my room. Why is that?” For the first time since I looked at his face, I see his prickly mouth curl into a smile. “Why my dear,” he says, “surely you have figured out some things along the way.” His eyes shift to the chair lodged in the window.
Quiet as a church mouse, I walk over to the window and peer out. There he is not but ten feet from the house. There is no sign of Alice. Curious, I look down at the chair. It has fused perfectly with the glass. My furry friend must have done this. I smile and look up, but he has gone.

A slow scrape across the door shakes me from my thoughts. I wonder at why she hasn’t come in yet. This troubles me so much I have to know. “Why hasn’t Alice come in yet?” The ceiling’s response is dangerously close to helpful, “if you’d cared to glance at the knob, you would know.”

“The knob?” I ask. The ceiling lets out a long sigh, “Must I tell you everything?” He asks. I nod my head and inch away from the door. I try a different approach. “Please, I’m running out of time,” I say, “how do I get out of here?”

“I’m neutral.”

“I beg your pardon?” I ask.

“I’m neutral dear. It means I cannot mettle in your affairs.”

“But you just…”

“I certainly have not, I’ve only given clues. And this is getting rather dull, if you’ll excuse me.” I hear crackling as the popcorn forms into its original shape on the ceiling.
“Wait,” I yell. He shifts back into a face. “Well?” he asks.

“I need,” I trail off looking to the floor. I don’t want to say it but I know it is my only hope. “I need a clue,” I mumble at the floor. It will stay like this forever until Alice finds a way to break through. If things have escalated this far in just a year’s time, there’s no telling what she will do next. I can’t stay locked up in my room forever. What I can’t figure out is why she wants to get to me so badly.

“Ah, a clue indeed,” he says, smacking his lips together. Beady Eyes sounds as if he’s savoring a bit of candy. “If I were you,” he whispers, “I would try looking at a dead end.” Bang, thump…thump. Alice is back to her pacing.

“What does that even mean?” I ask. I know what’s coming next. “Neutral,” we both say at the same time. “Of course,” I mutter.

I jump as something large crashes into my door. Alice is becoming bolder by the second. I can’t wait any longer. The next blow would break through. Mama, where are you? I wonder. I run to the only place I can think to as the next crash splinters the door. Huddled inside my closet, I lock the door and back into the wall. A series of metal clicks sound behind me and the wall drops away. To the screech of Alice’s dismay, I fall back into the vast pit of darkness. Her disembodied head floats from the opening, and then she slowly fades into the distance.

The ceiling’s voice calls around me, sounding rather proud, “there now, I knew you would get it,” he says. About as much as I got most of your messages, I think. I tug my nightgown down and place it between my knees. I’d rather not flash the entire world, if at all possible. I begin to think the drop will never end, and then, it happens. The icy water hits me like a ton of bricks and I tumble head over heels in the freezing pool. I panic for several heartbeats, unable to orient where the surface lies. I had not taken a deep enough breath and my lungs already feel as if they are going to burst. A twinkle shines behind me and I flip my body around. I claw my way toward the light with all my might. How far had I fallen in? More than anything I wanted to hear Mama’s stern voice. I wanted to hear her calling my stories nonsense, and feel her hand brush a cool rag across my forehead. I sputter and choke, releasing the last of the air from my lungs. Where is my furry friend now? I want desperately to feel him by my side. These last few moments, I think of his somber eyes and wagging tail. The twinkle from above seems as far as it was before, and I make a last-ditch effort to reach the top. Nothing happens. There is only the icy liquid between my fingers. I fall down further into the cold. I don’t want to think it, but it creeps in to my mind like the water in to my lungs. I am alone.

I wake to rocky pebbles pressed against my cheek and water lapping at my legs. I try to stand, but I just end up hunched on all fours. Water retches from out of my lungs and then I collapse on the shore for several minutes, too tired to move. Finally I am able to catch my breath and I sit up. I blink a few times, and rub at my eyes. The cavernous room is vast. There are many hollow doors and tunnels that snake in and out of the walls. It is cold and damp. I cry into my knees and rock back and forth. How will I get back home? And if I do, will Alice be there? If only I could have made it to Mama’s room. If only the doctor had come on his usual day instead of coming tomorrow. Then Alice would have gone away for a while. I want to see my friend. I want to touch his feathery-soft fur and gaze at the stars above. There is no grass in this room, only dirt. I lie down on the shore and curl up my legs to my stomach. I’d always been told to stay where I was if I became lost. But who would ever think to look for me here? Wherever here was. I close my eyes. Maybe I should just sleep until someone gets here. No sooner do I think this when suddenly I’m surrounded by warmth.

He says nothing but I feel him there. My friend has come for me. I open my eyes and stand. My lungs, for the first time in years, feel completely whole again. His fur looks more golden than usual and he stands upright like a human. His armor plate, which he had never worn before, is as bright as the sun and heat pulses from it. I can’t suppress the need to reach out and touch the glittering surface. A gentle breeze, carrying the scent of our garden, rustles my hair. He smiles at me, and for the first time I notice the vibrant flecks of color in his eyes. Where his snout should be is replaced by golden, wrinkly smile. His paws are now smooth and fleshy. I blink and realize that they are not paws at all, but large, strong hands. The room brightens like the surface of the sun, and I have to shield my eyes from its brilliance. Reaching out, he takes my hand and we walk down a stark, white corridor. My clothes have dried. When I glance down, I see a golden sash of silk crosses over my long, flowing dress. I wonder when my nightgown has turned into such a splendid garment, but I quickly forget it. That seems so trivial now. I try to turn my head back to where I fell in the water, but his hand gently wraps under my chin.

“Best not to look back, child,” he says. I continue walking down the hall, hand in hand with my friend.

To all my American friends Hope you are spending it with family and close friends. Take care! <3

I was so excited to go to three haunted houses this year. It really was a blast! My favorite probably was the cutting edge but Reindeer Manor was also really fun. I’m sorry to report that we didn’t get to decorate our house this year for all the kiddos, but, there is always next year. I’m glad that I will be able to work more on my book after this semester and hopefully have a summer release next year. (hopefully) No news yet on a place to sign but I’m still searching. I’m hoping I’ll be able to get a place before the holidays. Cross your fingers for me!

C

I know I’ve been absent in this last month, a lot has been done! Where do I begin? Sales, thanks to many of my friends and lovely family have been on the rise. I am so humbled and excited by all the buzz I’ve been getting lately. Thank you all for the kind words. I also would like to apologize for not having a signing date readily available, unfortunately the bookstores that I were going to sign at went out of business (to my dismay) so I am going to have to sign either out of state, or drive for several miles to do this. Hard copies of books are slowly dying out, so it’s hard to talk with businesses without tons of publicity and know-how. I’ve been trying my hardest to learn the ropes, but without an agent things can get tricky. In any case, thanks for the support and I hope to one day be as inspiring to others as they are to me. I still need to post those darn grand canyon pics., haha! I swear, one of these days I will. On the other side of things, I’d like to share a short story that is both near and dear to my heart. I was in fact abused as a child and this is a little insight as to my daily life as a child. I hope you enjoy, and keep checking back for details on the up-and-coming sci-fi novel, The Forgotten. I hope to have it out by mid to early this coming spring.

Coral

Absolutely nothing had been done. I don’t know why I continue to place my faith in adults with suits. I watched from the window as the woman from child protective services walked to her car, her coral colored toes shining in crisp, white heels. Coral nail polish was mama’s favorite toe color too. I had a sneaking suspicion that there existed a secret witch’s coven dedicated to the beating of children, all of them standing in neat little rows with coral painted feet.  I hissed at the window arching my back like I’ve seen so many neighborhood cats do. It’s no wonder cats hiss, it feels good to force the scratchy breath from your lungs. Ms. Cathy’s neat little brown bun, like the last of my hope, disappeared into the green ford explorer and slowly drove away. The wheels crunching the gravel sounded like rain beating across our thin roof. She, like many adults in my life, never listened to a solitary thing I had to say. Instead they told me to ‘mind your mother now and be a good girl’. They never felt the vice-like grip on their hair as mama pulled you from it off of the floor.

“Katherine-Anne-Thomas you get out here right now.”

I sulked at mama’s high pitched shriek, she always sounded like she was broadcasting for sports without a microphone. No matter how far I stood from her. I took my time, dragging my fingers along the familiar dips and bumps on the wall. At last reaching the entrance to the living room I dropped to my knees and peered around the TV stand. Her blonde mane was perfectly groomed, each strand of hair curled to frame her heart shaped face. Her bangs had been feathered just right to hover over magazine quality blue eyes. The rich seductive curve of her lips was outlined in a fiery red and she was clothed in a silky string top the same color over black slacks. If it was one thing mama was good at, it was finding stylish clothes on a budget. She once found a pair of real leather boots miss-marked at twenty-nine dollars. Not only did she get the boots at a reduced price but also a complementary matching purse and wallet. Mama always won.

I cringed at the giggles and coos of my half-brother as he stood pointing in his bouncy chair from the kitchen doorway. Drat, I hadn’t noticed him since he was on the left and mama was on the couch to the right. “Shi-Shi” Logan squealed in full force. His sing-song voice bounded from wall to wall sealing my fate with the happy jingle, tingle of the bells on either side of him.

“Katherine, now.”

More than her usual yelling spree, it was the calm collected voice she sometimes used that scared me the most. And today was one of those days. I gulped and rose up on shaky knees. My teeth, no matter how hard I pressed them down, would not stop chattering. Rounding the corner I stared up at the fierce flushed face of my mother. I brought my gaze to the floor a millisecond too late and her hand clamped over my cheeks.

“Don’t you look at me that way, you know what you did,” she spat tightening her grip.

I of course didn’t call CPS, it was more than likely our neighbors, but there was no convincing her of that. Besides, apologizing only ignited her anger further. I wisely remained silent and locked my gaze on the pearly glow of her coral nail polish. Each toe was dug firm into the ground, straining to break free of their wooden captor. I became mesmerized by the gleam, the unending sea of peachy-red and I tried to imagine what the color would feel like wrapped around my arms. Maybe it would comfort and warm me, sprinkle cinnamon and peach kisses across my face like grandma. Grandma’s kisses were always the best, proud and solidly planted on my forehead. But grandma was dead, long dead from the cancer that spread throughout her chest and stomach. There was no sense in wishing for her now. Logan’s preoccupied giggles peppered through seconds before I felt the repeated pounding of numbing blows. He must have lost interest and began playing with his toys.

My body lay as still as a statue, not moving until I heard her slowly pad toward the baby. Cracking my eyes a tiny slit, I watched as she bent down and picked Logan up from his bouncy swing. His eyes scanned the room and then looked down at me. He made an uncertain gurgle, patting mama’s face and pointing to me. Laughing she nuzzled him to her face and walked into the kitchen. I heard him say shi-shi as mama gently lowered him into his high chair.

“Now, now” I heard mama coo, “Shi-shi is taking a nap and it’s time for your lunch. How about sweet peas for my sweetie?”

I nearly tossed my non-existent lunch as I counted the grooves in the wood. I looked as far away as my eyes could without opening further. This was a way for me to gauge time, once I was able to count them ten times it was okay to get up and go to my room. On the tenth pass I heard the key enter the front door and quickly stood up, dusting my arms and legs. Mechanically, I walked to the front door and smiled as my stepfather came in. He had dark rings under his chocolate colored eyes and his normal neat crop of black hair was tousled and unkempt. He smelled of sweat and metal, no doubt from his long night shift where he worked as an electrical engineer. I knew it was almost time for his nap before he had to turn around and go to school.

My stepdad was a good guy; he never touched me or beat me in any way. That made him pretty decent in my book. I knew that he knew about mom’s beatings but he cleverly avoided the topic. Mom once confronted him and asked him to use the belt on me, but he said it wasn’t his place and she snatched the belt away tearing it across my legs and back.
“James,” mama said, her cheeks glowing like the color of her toes. His deep laugh rumbled through his chest as mama ran and hugged him tight.

I slowly inched toward the hallway as they talked about each others day and moved from the living room to the kitchen. I was almost to my sanctuary when mama called from the kitchen. She must have finished lunch because when I returned to the living room my step-dad was flicking through channels on the TV and eating a sandwich. My stomach grumbled in protest as I met with mom in the kitchen. I looked down at the off-white tile and marveled again at the perfection of mama’s handy work. The toes seemed to get brighter as the day passed, shining with a brilliance only known to most actresses on the big screen. I wondered if I hacked them into tiny pieces if there really was any other shade beneath them. Grabbing a patch of my hair she twisted until I was down on one knee whimpering. I hated giving in, hated it so much I bit down on my tongue and fought not to scream from her yanking. I stopped crying long ago when I was seven. I was nine now and much too old to cry from such things.

“You listen good you little brat. I want you to do the dishes” she yanked harder still until I was sure my whole left side of hair would rip off. “Your father and I are going to sleep, understand?” I nodded my head vigorously, gritting my teeth through the white hot pokers in my skull.

“Your brother is also taking a nap, so I expect not so much as a clang from this kitchen. Are we clear?” She gave my hair one final tug and threw me backward into the stove. I doubled over on the floor wishing, as they slowly approached, that each reddish-pink nail on her pristine feet would break off one by one. She finally walked away and I counted to ten before getting up. I was pacing back and forth, imagining that each step created a small groove in the tile. That would get her, if I just dented the floor enough she’d trip and maybe put a chip in her flawless work. I paused as something occurred to me, why hadn’t I thought of it before? The color, the c-o-l-o-r. I drew it out in my mind, each syllable burning worse than the last. I had to rid her of them. It must have filtered into her bloodstream, polluting her mind with its filthy lies about me. A bad, bad girl− it would say. Looks too much like her dead-beat dad, it would snicker in its low raspy taunt. No, not the sweet warmth of cinnamon and peach, it had tricked me all along. It had to be fooling mama too.

Tears wet my face for the first time in two years as I pre rinsed each pan, bowl and plate, placing them into the dishwasher. It was our newest appliance, one that had eaten up most of my step-dad’s savings. I was leaning over about to place the final two bowls in the washer when one slipped from my grasp to the floor. It shattered into a thousand porcelain pieces, speckling the floor like snow. The mountainous roar sounded behind me as clammy hands flipped me around and clamped around my neck.

“You-did-that-on-purpose, you-little-bitch.” I tried in vain to speak to her. I tried to tell mama that it was the nails, the vile color she painted them from the little glass tube. But the only thing I managed was a puff of air and a squeak as I slowly lost feeling in my legs and sank to the floor. I clawed at her wrists, finally locking gazes with her tempests of blue. But somehow they looked purple now, with ribbons of red snaking through. The coral had won, they’d gotten to even her eyes. I must have looked like a stranger in our home and she was trying to protect us. Maybe I was in my room, playing with the Barbie she gave me for my fifth birthday. It was probably just a dream and I’d wake any moment to my other life. My lungs were about to burst, I could feel the coral sinking in to them through my windpipe from mama’s fingertips. From the distance I heard my step-dad yell and I was released and dropped in front of the demon toes. A smile formed on my lips, my vision darkening but still present enough to make out what was in front of me. I had finally done it; put a chip in their ranks and their color was now a warm vivid hue of red.

My vision faded before finally being lost but I continued to grin as I felt the warmth of the color gently wrapping, then weeping and rocking me to sleep.