In the Dead of the Night

There was a single light glowing above the sink in the kitchen as she slowly pushed the back door open and slipped into the house. She began tip-toeing to the front of the house. She had made it to about the middle of the room before she heard the flick of the light switch and she was blinded by the flood of lights that filled the kitchen. He sat on the stool in the corner by the refrigerator. He was wearing his fire engine pajamas and looked like to the entire world the perfect image of the perfect little boy, but she knew better. She knew that in his small blond adorable frame he contained more evil then had ever existed anywhere else on earth and she regretted the errand she had had to run this night that put her in this position. She knew that he would use this to blackmail her into something terrible. As she stood there frozen in the middle of the kitchen and looked at the adorable blond child, a vicious smile spread across his face transforming the angelic child into the monster he was. She knew the moment he decided what her punishment would be and it was going to be bad, very bad. How long was she going to have to continue this charade and how was she ever going to rid the world of his evil. She was the only one who saw and knew and one day she was going to have to end it. When she looked back at the child his smile had slipped a little and she remembered to make her face the blank mask that was her only protection. He looked her up and down and then in his sweet high infant voice said, “You are in big trouble Mommy, you should never have left the house without telling me, this is what I need you to do…..”

Punk Rock Girl

She would sit for hours making the tapes. Sorting through her own tapes to find just the right songs. Painstakingly starting and stopping and recording those songs onto the blank tape, re-taping if she cut the song off too early. It was an art form back then in the time before computers, mp3 players and music on the Internet. She had been an artist. She crafted the most beautiful and outrageous music to ever be combined in one place. If you tracked the time she worked on making those tapes it would have added up to two years, three months and five days. That was then, now with a click of the mouse, what took her hours takes ten minutes and like the one hit wonder by the Buggles says “Video killed the radio star. Video killed the radio star. In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone too far, Oh-a-aho oh, Oh-a-aho oh.”

I never want to be an adult or once there were two, now there is one.

She sits in a chair on the front porch each evening watching everyone go by. She never smiles or says hello. it was the other one who was friendly. It was the other one who would greet you as you walked by asking about your day, making you smile. They would sit there for hours gossiping and laughing and enjoying the evening together. Once there were two chairs on that porch, now there is only one.

Saint Valentine's Day Massacre

The bouquet of flowers sat on the car seat where he had left them. He had stopped at the flower market on his way to the meeting. She was going to love them, twelve dozen pale pink roses. He was pretty sure she was the one he was going to marry. When the police walked in to the building with their guns drawn, he was not afraid. When they made the seven of them line up against the wall, he was not afraid. Not until the shooting started did he realize these were no policemen.

As the men dressed in police uniforms left the warehouse, one noticed the beautiful pale pink roses sitting in the car of one of the dead men. He reached in through the window and slowly withdrew the roses. “My girl is going to love these." he said.

Corn and Moonlight

When I was a teen-ager I dreamed of getting out of there. The dreams were filled with big cities, exciting jobs and fascinating people. I saw myself there in the gleaming city, dancing, working, loving and living the life I knew I was destined for. I did not see myself staying there in that town surrounded by corn, stifled by it, drowned among it, wasted by the corn. So it shocks me each time I pull off the express way to visit my parents, how it draws me in that corn; the smell of it, the sound of it, the look of it as the moonlight bounces off the glistening ears. It sometimes creeps into my dreams the way the city did before I lived in it, luring me back to that town I swore I would leave forever.

The Plan

He stood by the grave and admired the many flowers left by fans. It was a lovely site to behold. He was still amazed all these years later the reverence people had for him and his music. The fact that even after his death his name could still bring millions and millions of dollars was at times shocking. But he was happy that his family was taken care of because he had had to leave all those years ago and he felt bad about that. He felt bad that his daughter thought he was dead, but it had to be done. His life had been spiraling out of control for so long that the only way out was death. So he had planned it, everything down to the last detail. It had worked perfectly. Everyone thought he was dead and despite the occasional " I saw Elvis story” in the Weekly World News he had lived a quite life. None of those stories ever got close to the truth. Did people really think he would still look like Elvis? After his "death" he had lost weight and dyed his hair blond and gotten plastic surgery. He looked nothing like himself. His current wife and children had no idea he was anything more then Ted Fromby from Winnetka. IL, High School History Teacher and baseball coach. He was really proud of his team; they had made the State play-offs this year. He took one last look at the grave, turned away with a chuckle and headed back toward the front gate where his family waited.

Not all dreams are sweet

She saw the future in her dreams. When she was six she dreamed of her high school graduation and when she was nine she dreamed of her college days and what she would study. The day she turned twelve she dreamed of her future career and at sixteen she dreamed of her wedding day and saw the man she would marry. Her dreams continued to show the future, so she made no plans and let her dreams carry her along. She graduated from High School, went to college and got a job just like her dreams foretold. All her dreams had come true so far and so she waited for the rest, waited for the man, the wedding the children and the life she dreamed of and while she waited she failed to take notice that her life was passing her by. She awoke upon the morning of the day she had dreamed would be her wedding day with no groom and no dress and no wedding. She had let the dreams rule her life and as some times happens not all dreams come true. She made a decision that day, the decision to no longer rely on her dreams to build her life. She would make the decisions, screw those stupid dreams, she hated her job, regretted her career path and college major and that guy she had dreamed of was no prince charming and so as the rest of her life unfolded she no longer dreamed about life but lived it.

The barn

There was a lantern on the barn as I approached from the west. My horse was tired and I needed a hot meal and a bath. The man and his woman were nice enough to provide both. I felt bad when I stole her cameo broach and his shot gun, but I had to survive. I left them tied up in a stall in the barn with some food and water. It may be a week before anyone rescues them, but they should be ok. I have grown weary of this life style but I go on. I dream of a small place of my own like the man and woman have. A small house and a head of cattle, I could graze in the mountains. A red barn, I would love to a have a freshly painted red barn with a lantern hanging from a hook. My husband would come in from milking our cow, kiss me and say that dinner smelled good. These dreams have plagued me for the last three years. I barley sleep any more for fear they will come in the night to destroy me. I can not give up now that I am so close to the end. The end will come when I kill him, the man who stole that dream of the house, barn and husband, the man who shot me and left me bleeding and for dead as I laid next to my dead husband in the rain that night three years ago. I am close to him for I can feel it in my bones. Once he is dead maybe I can sleep again.

The end: Tired and Sore

So Absurd

The whole thing was so absurd that she was not even sure that it was real and not some crazy dream she was having. So, she pinched her self hard, which was going to leave a bruise. She could not believe she was even in this situation at all. Every time she looked around she would just repeat these word----absurd, absurd, absurd. Every night she would go to sleep thinking she would wake up the next morning and everything would be back to normal. But every morning she woke up in the luxurious bed in this palace and pinch herself. She was a normal Midwest girl who some how got entangled in every girls fantasy and she was beginning to think that the absurdity of it all was that no one else seem to think it was absurd. Her parents even supported the whole absurd scheme. Her own parents, well now it seemed they were not truly her parents. Who knew when they took that crazy vacation 26 years ago and her Mom went into labor 2 months early and gave birth to what they thought was a healthy baby girl but in fact was a tiny little boy and that a nation waiting for the birth of the heir of the throne desperately wanted a prince and some patriotic nurse decided to give her country the heir they wanted not they one they actually had, me. Now 26 years later the truth is out and her I am the head of this little European kingdom no one in the Midwest had ever even heard of. It is just to absurd to even contemplate, my life has become a soap opera, so I guess I should just put on this tiara and go out to my ball and dance with the very handsome duke. Absurd!

The Book

The book was thick and black and covered with dust. Its boards were bowed and creaking when I opened it. Little did I realize at the time how opening that book would change my life forever. The dust scattered when I turned the first page and as I began to read the room around me receded. The story was beautiful and sad and I cried. When I looked up from the pages the room was bathed in the glowing light of sunset. I had read for hours and it had felt like minutes. I went downstairs and found something to eat, but my mind kept going back to that sad, beautiful story. I wanted to read it again and again. So that is what I did . I put my untouched meal aside and I picked up the book. I read for days. Not eating, not moving. It was only after they put me here that I realized what I had done. I had eaten my own hand because I could not get up from that book. I am not sure what happened to that book after the mailman found me and they brought me here. I hope it was burned to ashes but I fear that it was not. That book ruined my life, but if I could find it I know that I would read it over and over and over again.

Tall Skim Latte

She ordered the same thing every morning from the coffee shop on the corner of her block and then walked to the train to make the trek to work. Every morning the same routine over and over, but this day would be different because in the middle of her routine a strange thing happened. While waiting in line she was thinking about the article she had read the night before in Time magazine about the likely hood of a single woman over the age of 35 meeting a man and getting married, the statistics were very disheartening. According to the article a women past the age of 35 had a greater chance of being killed by gunfire then in finding love. At 37 she did not need a magazine article telling her the chances of finding a soul mate were bad, she knew that already. She was distracted from her thoughts by the man waiting in line in font of her who was acting a little oddly, she tried not to stare as he sweated profusely under his long trench coat, which was odd as well since it was already eighty degrees and then with a flourish the man stepped up to the counter and pulled a gun from his pocket aiming it at the cashier. Both she and the cashier screamed causing the gunman to lose control and turning toward her he fired his gun and the last thought running through her head was “Damn the article was right!”

To be covert

As she left the building she heard the sirens approaching. They would be here soon enough and know that she had killed that man. It was time to leave this city. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number. He answered on the first ring,
“I’m leaving.” She said.
“I saw a breaking news story about a man killed at an accounting firm in Chicago.” He replied
“I was careless, I got too settled, it won’t happen again. I will call you when I find a new place.” With that she hung up the phone and hailed a taxi. When she arrived at the train station she made her way to the bank of lockers on the lower level. She dug out the key from her bag and opened up the locker. Inside were a small leather bag and a suitcase. She opened the leather bag found the car keys buried under the stacks of cash. The car was parked at a lot on 59th street and it was her ticket out of this town. She grabbed the bag and the suitcase and made her way to the bathroom. The women’s bathroom on the lower level of the train station was where the junkies went to shoot up; it was the perfect place to change her appearance. She took a pair of scissors out of her bag and began to cut off her long blond hair. She was good with a pair of scissors and once she had found a new city she could get it cleaned up by professional. When she was finished cutting the woman in the mirror looked completely different. She looked older, although she could still pass for someone 10 years younger, she looked more professional and eerily she looked like Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. In her bag she also had a box of hair dye. She dyed her hair, turning it a medium brown. It always surprised her how much a haircut and dye could change your appearance. She gathered up all her supplies and went into one of the bathroom stalls to change into the jeans and sweater from the suitcase. Once she had changed she put the suit along with the hair dye and hair in three separate plastic bags, pulled on a leather jacket and walked out of the bathroom. As she left the train station she dumped the bag of hair dye in a trash can and turned north to walk toward her car. The car was parked three miles from the train station and along the way she could dump the last two plastic bags. When she reached the parking lot she fished the keys out of her purse and opened the trunk, throwing in her suitcase and the bag of money. She had no real plan other then to head west out of the city. She got into the car, started the engine and drove out of the lot heading toward the interstate once on the interstate she headed west toward Iowa. As she left the city limits she glanced into her rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of the skyline. She had enjoyed her time in Chicago. It had been an excellent home base with a good airport with flights everywhere. She had made a few friends and had enjoyed her cover job. She was going to miss this city. She regretted that. Regretted that she had become somewhat attached to this place. In her line of work that was something to be avoided. No attachments. The next city she would not let seep into her skin like this one had. She was determined to keep her distance. She did not like this feeling of loss and for the first time in 15 years she questioned her choice of career.

I follow

I have always been a follower. It was easier. I never had to think for myself, I could just follow someone who would think for me. It all started in kindergarten when Suzi Stanhope said, " Come on follow me to the swings." It was so easy to fall into this role. I always had lots of friends because I always agreed with what they said. People like that you know, they like when someone listens and does things just like them. It makes them feel strong. I have made a lot of people feel powerful and self confident. I thought I was happy all these years, but I was wrong. I have discovered you can only follow for so long, that finally one day it is if a cloud dispersed and you realize that maybe you have spent you whole life following people and never being true to yourself. When that happened to me I packed a bag, grabbed my car keys and left that town where all I did was follow. That was ten years ago today and I follow only my own dreams these days and while I may not be as well liked and have as many friends as when I followed, I am happier.

Our Secret Language

When we were six we created a secret language that only we understood. We would sit for hours speaking in only that language. Everyone around us would get frustrated not understanding anything we said, but we did not care, we were inseparable and no one else needed to know our secrets. As we grew the language grew with us, by the time we were eighteen the language was more complex then half the languages in the world. We still frustrated people and we still kept our secrets in a language only two people knew. As all good things do, it had to end one day. I was not expecting it, but I should have. She had fallen in the love the year before and I should have seen the writing on the wall, but I did not. It seemed as if one day she understood the language and the next she did not. That was many years ago and as those years have passed I too have forgotten most of that old language, but every so often a word will flit across my mind and I will be taken back to those glorious days where I spoke a language of two.

The Dark Place

I come from a dark place. At least that is what everyone says, my parents, my teachers, the parents of the other kids in my class. I am not exactly sure what that means but I have decided to embrace it. I have started refusing to wear anything but black because apparently people from dark places only like dark colors. Personally I would prefer to wear bright yellow and pink but since I come from a dark place, black it is. I like to wear my hair long, stringy and dyed black. I have started taking fewer baths, which is surprisingly refreshing. I refuse to eat vegetables and have started ordering my steak rare, it does not taste that good and I really miss broccoli but I guess that is the price you pay for darkness. I am now only listening to bands with sad disturbing lyrics like the Cure and the Smiths, my parents hate it. sometimes when I listen to the songs I can not help but laugh, they are ridiculous, all that angst and sadness. My writing has taken a turn toward the dark, I now almost exclusively write about vampires, while the stories are good, not to boast but I am a great writer, I would rather sometimes write a story with a happy ending, but I must live up to my image. I will admit the one thing I like about my new dark side is the eyeliner, I look really good with kohl around my eyes, honestly it is almost worth all the other stuff just to be able to have these kohl rimmed eyes. I do hope that when I graduate from High School next year and head to college I can maybe drop the whole dark thing because I am getting kind of bored of it, I should of never written that first stupid vampire story for my creative writing class because it apparently gave everyone the wrong idea about me. If only I could put on a cute summer dress and dye my hair back to blond, I bet my blond hair would look really good with kohl rimmed eyes--- hum maybe I should write a story about Marilyn Monroe, she wore eyeliner and pretty dresses and could be consider dark. I think I have solved my problem, my next story will definitely be about Marilyn Monroe.

When they come for you

"Listen up everyone, because this is important. When they come for you it,will be in broad daylight while you are sleeping. They are relentless and you must take every precaution against them. Always remember that when you are at your weakest is when they will try to get you, the cowards. Really the best thing to do is find a very secure location for the daylight hours, hire guards, do what ever it takes to make them loyal to you and never, never let your guard down." These words were drilled into my brain on that first night and I followed them to the tee. I found a house in the hills, I found guards who would die for me and I lived a quiet life for several years, but I guess I became lazy because most people I ran into were OK with me so I let down my guard. That was a mistake because here I am on the wrong end of a stake and I can see in this guys eyes that this is it he will kill me. I guess i should say all the things you should say when you are going to die, I have had a good life, I can die happy, etc, etc. But honestly I am not ready to die. I have a lot of living to do still. I have only really gotten into the grove of this vampire thing and now I am going to die. Damn Humans and their fears.

The Lost

That is what they called themselves, this rag-tag group of survivors. They felt lost and were actually often geographically lost. After the wars that ended the world they few who had survived in the city gathered together and started heading south. They had no maps and no compass, but they knew the sun still rose in the east and set in the west so they knew that they were headed in the right direction, that was until the dust and smoke from the burning of the world engulfed them, on those days they would wonder sometimes for hours in the wrong direction never knowing until the sky had cleared enough for them to see the sunrise. In the year that they had been walking they had seen terrible, terrible things. Things that stained their memories for ever. They travelled during the day for it was safer and found hiding places at night. They met few other survivors learning very quickly to avoid them. But every once in a while they would stumble across another who would join their group and tell stories of horror and hope, the hope of a place that had food, rules, clean water and a community that was thriving. So they continued their journey despite everything, each of them holding close to a small spark of hope that one day they would be found.

The Trust

She had inherited the money when she was five, but it had been held in trust for her until she was 25. Twenty years she spent in poverty never knowing that she was the one that had inherited her grandfather's estate. A grandfather she had never meet, a grandfather who had judged her mother unworthy and disowned her like she was nothing, a grandfather who had accumulated so much money that many believed him to be the richest man in the world, a grandfather who had left all to her perhaps out of guilt for his treatment of her mother. The trust was run by a small group of trustees, headed by her uncle. The uncle who had become her guardian on her mother's death, the uncle who had not disowned his only sister like his brothers had. the uncle that she loved and trusted and who had claimed they had nothing, the uncle who was swiftly going through her money like it grew on trees. When the lawyer knocked on her door and gave her the will and trust documents she started laughing, laughing at the injustice of it all, laughing at the audacity of her uncle, laughing at the regret of her grandfather, laughing at the lack at money that had forced her to turn down the acceptance to Harvard, laughing at her lot in life. When she stopped laughing she sat down and cried.

Cheering is a Sport, Dammit!

He had made it to the pinnacle of his career. He was the President of the most powerful country in the world. He commanded one of the strongest armies ever to exsist. He had it all. Or so it seemed, but underneath it all he was a simple man. He liked hanging out with his friends and being on his ranch. When he looked in the mirror he did not recognize the old man who looked back. God, this job was way more stressful then anyone told him it would be. He really just wished he could go back to that time in his life when he had been the happiest. Cheering! Cheering! Cheering!

The Art of War

The goose bumps rose up on her arms as she aimed her bowed and let loose the arrow. It flew swiftly and hit the pile of brush set up on the opposite peak. The brush burst into flame signally the warriors below that the advancing army was headed their way. She slung her bow over her shoulder and made her way, as fast as she could, down the mountain side. She wanted to be there with her regiment when they went into battle. This would be the fight of their lives. Everything they held true and dear was at stake. She joined her regiment just as they were preparing to head to the front lines. She refilled her arrow pouch adjusted her sword and bid farewell to her younger sister who would be staying behind to tend to the wounded. Her commander yelled the advance and she and the 100 other women in her regiment set off. As they approached the battle field she could smell the sickening stench of blood and knew that there was a chance she would not survive this battle. She prepared herself and as they reached the battle field she saw the chaos and did not hesitate, she rushed in with bow and arrow felling two of the enemy before they even knew what happened. When she ran out of arrows she withdrew her sword form its scabbard and plunged toward the fray. To her left and right were the women she had trained with from the time of her sixth year. As she fought on she would catch occasional glimpses of the red hair woman leading the regiment to the left of hers. The woman fought with such brilliance it was if she were a goddess of war sent to rescue them from this battle. But in the end she was merely a mortal and an arrow from the enemy pierced the red haired warrior's chest and she fell. When she saw the red haired warrior fall she wanted to scream in pain and lie down and cry, but the battle was not over and she had to finish this for she was an Amazon Warrior and if she was lucky there would be time after they won this battle to mourn her mother’s death.

The Long Black Veil

He was hanged over ten years ago but I can still remember the feel of his hands on my skin. His eyes would shine a brilliant blue brimming with love as we lay tangled in the sheets of my bed. He loved me with all his heart and that love for me killed him. He was with me when the man was killed but because he loved me he told no one and because I was weak, I stayed silent and watched as they hanged him in the town square. He was a good man. I wish I could have been a better woman, so I put on my veil and walk the hills where he is buried, it is the least I can do. I may not have loved him in life, but I can love him in death.



Long Black Veil

Ten years ago on a cool dark night
There was someone killed 'neath the town hall light
There were few at the scene and they all did agree
That the man who ran looked a lot like me

The judge said ``Son, what is your alibi?
If you were somewhere else then you won't have to die''
I spoke not a word although it meant my life
I had been in the arms of my best friend's wife

She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave where the night winds wail
Nobody knows, no, and nobody sees
Nobody knows but me

The sky froze high and eternity neared
She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
But sometimes at night when the cold wind moans
In a long black veil she cries over my bones

By Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin

Organic Material

The rocks were carefully searched for organic remains but none were found. That is when we decided there was no life on the planet. To our shock and dismay we were wrong. When we landed on the planet and started our mining project we really did think the planet was desolute. It was only later when they attacked that we realized our mistake. We were looking for organic materials not robotic. That had been our mistake. We had been nieve. I leave this message as warning for others to not make the same mistake we had. If we had left them alone we would not be in this situation now. They are tough task masters and working for them is hell, but at least I am still alive, unlike most of my fellow humans who pershied in the war when they destoryed us with thier superior power. They are indestructiable. Do not let your knowledge of organisms blind you.

Happy Birthday Brother O Mine!!!!

The Tradition

No one knew when the tradition had started. It seemed to most that it had just always been. When her name was drawn that year she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. This was her last year in the drawing and she was certain it was not going to happen to her. Each of the last three years she had prepared herself for her name to be called, but this year she was not ready. Not ready to hear her name called by Thomas the newly appointed record keeper and her best friend. He smiled sadly at her because he alone knew she was not ready for this. He alone knew she had not prepared for it. She had destroyed all of the previous years' carefully prepared plans. She had been a fool. With dread she walked up the stairs to the stage, held her hands up and thanked the kingdom for this privilege, the privilege to live in the castle, wear silks and satins, to eat enormous amounts of food and pretty much do anything she wanted for an entire year as the Queen. She felt sick to her stomach.

Which Jane Austen Heroine are you?

Take the Quiz here!

The Stranger

She had sung in the saloon for two years now, it was common knowledge that she could be had after the show for a few coins. she had not chosen this life but there were not many options for a women like her. Her voice drew them in and thoughts of her unclothed body kept them in the chairs. She made a tidy profit for she had the voice of an angel in the body of a whore. She hoped that very soon she would have enough saved to escape this life and buy a small farm and live out her days there. It was a small dream but it was all hers and nothing would ever take the dream away, until he walked in to the saloon. He was not handsome by any stretch of the imagination but she looked into his eyes as she sang on the stage and she knew her dream was over. After she finished he paid his coins and followed her up to her room. He stopped her as she began to undress and said,

" I have been looking for you for two years now. Yours parents think you are dead and your son cries himself to sleep every night. Why did you leave us?"

She just stared at him, so he grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake.

" You are my wife and I love you and want you to come home, don't you have anything to say." he asked

She looked at this strange man and reached behind her for the fireplace poker, this stranger was obviously crazy.

"There you go"

The Johnny Cash song came on the juke box in the corner of the bar. She smiled when she heard it. It had been so many years ago that it was ,at times hard for her to believe that it had ever happened. That she had ever been that kind of women. But it was real and it was the truth, in her younger years it had been her style to break hearts and tell lies. She had been a beauty and even as a small child everyone who met her told her mother that she was going to break a lot of hearts. She had lived up to everyone’s expectations and she had had fun doing it. Now she was your typical grandmother of ten. Her oldest grandchild was getting married in the spring, that girl had definitely not broken any hearts. Sometimes she worried about her and how boring she seemed to be, it just seemed wasteful to spend all that beauty on one man. Oh well, what could a grandmother do. As the music played on she let her mind slid back in time to that hot summer long ago when she met that young musician and broke his heart. She smiled as her body swayed to the music….. “You’re gonna break another heart you’re gonna tell another lie…..”

The Cranberry Bog

Her name was Dot and she had spent her whole life on the bog. She loved that bog and those cranberries. She now gave tours to ignorant tourist who had no idea the beauty of the bog. Every once in a while there would be one person in a tour group who gave Dot a slight glimmer of hope. They would ask all the right questions and would listen intently to her description of the process of harvesting the berries. This happened so rarely that when that person appeared every three years or so it filled her with the hope that maybe mankind was not as bad as she really thought, that just maybe there was a kindred soul. Invariably this hope would build over the next hour of the tour and as always it would be dashed and smashed liked a ship against a rocky coast. More often then not she would see that hope die as each of these “ kindred souls” would prove they were not what she thought by letting their curiosity get the best of them and making the very fatal mistake of stepping out onto her bog. She was sure getting tired of burying all those bodies, but at least she had a lot of bog and after all it was really good fertilizer for the cranberries.

A History Lesson

She travelled through time like she was just going to the corner grocery. It was easy. She had been able to do it since she was about four. That first time it had happened quite by accident. She had been toddling around her room playing dress up when all of the sudden she was no longer in her room, one moment she was walking toward her bed and the next she had somehow slipped through an open seam in the fabric of time and was wandering around a dark London street perilously close to where Jack the Ripper was about to strike his second victim, she was of course not aware of any of this because she was only four after all, but as she got older and the time travel more frequent she learned facts about history that she could use in her travels. She learned to love all aspects of the history of the world but her favorite time in history was 1948, the year her father was two. She would often go to that time and sit in the park across from his childhood home and watch the idyllic, serene family scenes that played out for her like a movie. Her childhood had not been like a movie, after her parents divorced she had seldom seen her father and as he slowly slipped from her life her mother dug a tench and fortifications and tried to control every aspect of her childhood. Travelling between times was her only refuge and as the years went by she returned home less and less so that by the time she was thirty her own time had forgotten she even existed. On her last visit to her own time she discovered that although history can not be altered the future is uncertain and so it goes that in 1974 a girl was born but in 2008 the women did not exist for she had spent too much time in the past.

57 Seconds is not long

I could survive for 57 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor

The Wedding

Sometimes I dream that it never happened. That the huge wedding with all the flowers, ten bridesmaids and the whitest, most beautiful dress I had ever owned. After waking from those dreams I would sit in the giant bed covered in silk and keep my eyes closed for a minute savoring the dream, savoring the idea that the wedding had never occured, that I was now not sitting in this luxurious bed in the biggest house I had ever seen or was ever likely to see again. That instead I was sitting in a narrow bed in a small farm house on the edge of civilization. On those days after the dream I feel listless and anxious as if I am waiting for my real life to start. I fear that it will never start, that I will not ever experience joy again. The fears are very real becasue I knew when I chose him that I was making a mistake but I did it any way. I thought that beautiful clothes, fancy houses and servants would be enough. I was wrong. I should have chosen better. I should have chosen the farm with rough sheets, hard work, little money and the only man who not only made me laugh but alos made my heart leap everytime he walked into a room. I should have chosen the man not the wedding.

Kafe

Every day for two years she drank coffee. Never before in her life had she drank so much coffee. She had always been a tea drinker. Hot tea every morning. But for those two years it was coffee. Coffee in the morning, coffee in the afternoon, coffee after dinner. It sometimes seemed the countries entire culture was based on coffee drinking. She met her friends for coffee, she met co-workers for coffee, she took her students for coffee( although they would occasionally try to sneak in a beer instead), she drank coffee after every meal she ate out. And because she was not used to nursing one very small turkish coffee for two hours and since she unlike many of her local friends could afford more she would drink three to their one. So needless to say she became addicted to coffee, addicted to sitting in cafes for hours drinking coffee and talking, addicted to the pleasure of no time constraints, no worries and nowhere to hurry to. Eight years later she still drinks coffee every morning and although she no longer has the luxury of those long leisurely afternoons in the cafe, every time she tastes that warm sweet coffee, she remembers that place, its people and their coffee.

Somewhere

Somewhere out there is the man I am looking for. It may take years to find him but I will find him one day. I am preparing for our first meeting every day. I have developed the skills I will need to catch him. I have become a different women knowing that the one I used to be would never find him. I have practiced every day for the last two years so that I know when I find him, he will be mine. My hope is that once I find him my life will be complete, this gnawing emptiness will be gone. I will be whole again. It took me years to realize what I needed to do but now that I have a plan, I know that I will find him and when I do I will kill him with all the vengeance that has been bottled up inside me since the day he killed my parents and younger sister. Somewhere out there is the man who destroyed my family and I will find him.

Leave No Trace

It happened so fast that when it was over they were both shocked. The body laid on the carpet in the middle of the living room. Phil started to freak out repeating over and over again,
"Oh no!"
Thomas had to slap him several times to calm him down.
" Look, this is bad and we have to remain calm to decide what we need to do!" Thomas said
" I can not go to jail, I will not do well in jail!" Phil shrieked
" Don't worry I know someone who knows someone who can help us out." Thomas said
Thomas went to the phone dialed and waited. Phil watched in both anguish and hope. After Thomas hung up the phone he said,
" Don't worry it will all go away."

Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Thomas answered and standing on the door step were five of the youngest, clean cut, decent looking boy scouts you had ever seen. Thomas said,
" Thank you so much for coming it is great to meet you guys, I am Thomas and this is Phil."
The oldest of the scouts stepped forward and said,
" We have never met and we were not here, now sit quietly on the sofa while we clean up this mess." the scout then began to shout out orders to his patrol, " Lay out the tarp, get the rope, make sure the knots are secure, ready the bleach."
In twenty minutes the scouts had securely wrapped the body and cleaned up any traces of blood, they hoisted the body up and prepared to leave. The Patrol leader looked at Thomas and Phil and repeated his warning,
" We have never met and we were never here!"
As the scouts carried the body out of the apartment Thomas and Phil could faintly hear them singing:
Softly falls the light of day as our campfire fades away,
Silently each scout must ask, have I done my daily task,
Have I kept my honor bright, can I guiltless sleep this night,
Have I done and have I dared everything to be prepared.
Phil and Thomas never saw those scouts again and to this day 10 years later that body has never been found. Thomas sometimes wonders how they made it disappear.

A group of scouts sits around a campfire with their Scout master, the Scout master is finishing his second bowl of Chili, he turns to the Patrol Leader and says,
" Kenny I don't know how you do it, but this chili is amazing, won't you tell me your secret ingredient?"

My secret Exsitence

For years and years and years now people have been searching for the answer to that one burning question. Am I real? Do I exist? The answer is yes. I am real, I exist. I live up here in Alaska where no one will ever find me. It is a pretty good existence. The wife and I have recently redecorated the rec. room. She made these really lovely flowered curtains. The kids are all doing well. They have lots of friends at school and Thomas even has a part in the school musical. He is not the greatest singer but he does a good job. We are canning vegetables for the long winter ahead and we have recently been able to pick up The Disney Channel on the satellite dish. The kids have been enjoying High School Musical. All in all things have been good. We caught the news of those yahoos in Georgia. It just really burns my butt that these crazies continue to make up these hoaxes. I tell you if I thought for a minute you humans would not kill me, my family and our community and experiment on our cold dead bodies, I would come forward and end these hoaxes and all the myths. But since I am pretty sure you would kill us, I think I will just ignore this latest news and keep my head down and enjoy our little families quite life.

The Observer

She watched him from the apartment across the alley. She had cameras, microphones, everything you would need to observe his activities. This was her fifth assignment and it was the longest she had been on. During the training phase before you were ever allowed to watch you were taught to separate yourself from the subject, to never begin to think of the subject as anything but the subject. She was afraid she was failing. it had started innocently enough during her third week of watching. He seemed to look directly at her from his window and smile. She know there was no way he had seen her or known she was watching but still she felt as if they were connected through that one smile. As time went by she immersed herself in his activities and now she realized she was goner. She had gotten too involved, too concerned, too connected, maybe even fallen in love a little bit. She was going to have to ask for a reassignment. It would be hard ,but she could do it, she could leave this all behind and move on to another subject. Besides he would be dead soon anyway. I mean after all she had been watching him now for 80 years so that would make him well into his nineties, humans did not live much longer then that. She sighed when she thought back over all of her subjects and realized that her very first observation subject had now been dead for over three centuries. She shook her head and reminded herself that she had chosen to drink the serum and take the oath and pick up the Observer Mantle, she had a job to do and one 98 year old guy would not break her resolve. The observers must observe or chaos would reign.

When they asked

When they asked me if I knew I told them no. But I was lying and they never guessed. I never figured I could be such a good actress, but I was. When they asked I told them I did not know and I got away with it. All of it. I never figured it would be so easy but it was, in the past I had always answered questions truthfully so I never knew the power of not answering, it was liberating. That was ten years ago and I have not looked back once. I have become such a good liar that I am sometimes not even sure what is a lie and what is not. And to think it all started with the simple question, " Lily, sweetie, do you know who drew on the wall with red crayon?"

The Death March

The stones were arranged in such a way that I was sure I could never climb up them. My legs already felt like jelly but he was relentless. Forcing me on even when I wanted to stop. He was a demon from hell and this I was sure was my final day on earth. I would never make it to the top of this stupid mountain. But my resistance was futile because the demon forced me to climb higher and higher, above the trees, every time I was sure we were almost there I would look up and see the peak looming above me at a far greater distance. I would die before we ever made it to the top. But the demon flung his head back with glee and laughed his maniacal laugh and I become resolved. I would make it to the top of this godforsaken mountain even as I knew it would kill me. The view from the top was that much sweeter when I finally pulled my destroyed body to the peak. I had done and the view was spectacular, but as I looked around waiting for the demon to join me at the top all I could think about was that now I had to go back down and I was sure it would kill me.

Do I have to like them?

It really started when I was 12. That is when we moved here, to this place that I hate. My Mom would always answer each of my complaints with " Give it time, you will like it." I gave it time. 29 years in fact and I still hate it. I hate the way they laugh, the way they talk, the way they think that they are smarter then everyone else. I hate everything about them. But what I really hate the most is the way the smell. It is the worst smell I have ever smelled. It is like over cooked hot dogs left out in the sun for too long. I thought I would get used to it but I never have. I do not like them and I do not like it here. I tried, I really did, but I am not like my sister. She is happy here. She even married one of them and has a child. She is starting to smell like them. My Mom and Dad won't come with me, they want to stay here and be close to there grandchild, plus they say they like it here. But as soon as the ship arrives next month, the first time in 29 years, I will be on it. I am going home to where everyone smells like a fresh sweet flower. It will be sad to leave my family. But I am done here. I tried to like them, but I realize now , I do not have to. I mean because really Earth Stinks! I mean that literally, it really really stinks here and I have been holding my breath for 29 years.

When they came

When they came to the house. I thought things would change. I thought with the young people I would have more to do. I would be able to scare the heck out of them with a slamming door or a rattling in the attic. But I was wrong. They were boring and never got scared of anything. The giant clown I invaded and made dance at midnight in the middle of the six years old room did not even get one shriek. In fact the six year old giggled. Giggled! What kid is not scared of clowns? Clowns are scary! So I stepped it up a notch. I rearranged all the furniture in the living room. The Mom was grateful. She thought it looked better. When I levitated the fourteen year old three feet above her bed, she actually asked if she could do that again. Who are these people? I am done. I tried my hardest to scare the bejesus out of this family and all I get is giggles and happiness. They are not normal. I can not live this way so I am packing my bags and heading on over to the house down the street, they look like a family that will run at the first creak.

My Oldest friend

I meet her 10 years ago. We both lived in the same city in the same country, expatriates in a land of confusion, misunderstandings, language barriers and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. I drank so much coffee the two years we lived in that city that even now the smell of coffee makes my mouth water and my eyes mist for the times we spent sitting and talking in one coffee house or another. We were both there to live extraordinary lives we thought, but instead lived quite mundane and predictable day to day lives. The highlight for me was the coffee and her company. I am not sure I could have lived those two years without her. She was a rock. She would joke that surely I would prefer to have a young person there instead of her, I would always say no and I meant it. I was the lucky one. We seldom speak now as we live thousands of miles apart but for those two years she was not only my "oldest" friend but my dearest. The 30 years that divide our ages means nothing because friends are the greatest possession you can have and she was like a diamond.

Dancing in the Dark

She danced in the middle of the dance floor flailing her arms and legs as if she was trying to dislodge a multitude of bugs from her body. The disco ball whirled around creating a blinding light as it bounced off of her sequined shirt, I worried that she would hurt someone with her flailing arms. Then as suddenly as she had started she stopped and glanced up at the disco ball as the music and other dancers swirled around her. That is when I noticed her eyes. They were both a cloudy white color and I wondered if she could see. As she made her way off the dance floor she brushed my arm as she passed and leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Everything is better in the dark.”

The Guide

She had found the small book in the very back corner of her grandmother's closet when she was fourteen. As she read the book from cover to cover she was both shocked and titillated by it. Her Grandmother was the kind of women who always wore a suit and hat when she went to church or out to dinner. She was very proper and very well spoken and very intelligent. College educated at a time when few women were, she was the epitome of class and culture. The girl had always been a little intimated by her picture perfect grandmother, so as she clutched the book to her chest she smiled a little smile of appreciation and greater knowledge. This book made her Grandmother more real to her, more human. From that day forward the girl saw her grandmother in a different light. She saw her not just as the loving, cultured Grandmother she was now, but also as the young women she had been. A women full of secret passions and needs. Through out the years the girl would pull out the small book and remember the grand mother she had loved so much, but it was not until years later when the girl herself was a grandmother that she discovered the slit in the back binding of the book and pulled out a letter from the publisher of the book:

Dear Mrs. Donaldson,

Thank you so much for your submission of " A Young Women's Guide to Passionate Lovemaking". We think it will be a huge success and look forward to any future manuscripts you may have. We at True Romance believe that all things are possible. A check is enclosed for you fees.

Yours,
Sylvia Saturn
Senior Editor, True Romance Publications

Late at Night

As I lie awake late at night, listening for the beating of wings, I try to close my eyes and over and over I say to myself, " I will not go this night." But I always go. I can not resist his lure. I want to say no, but I crave the danger and the excitement, so I climb down the trellis by my window and into the night we race. I know that when I am older I will regret these nights. At this exact moment I do not care. All I care about is him and how the darkness and the sweet smell of him make me feel. My mother and father have no idea what I do at night. They think I am snug in my bed dreaming those adolescent dreams all girls should be dreaming. They would be disappointed, not angry, but disappointed in me and perhaps that is why even for a just a fleeting moment, I consider not going each night and then I hear his sweet voice and I am done for, I can not resit him, oh my dearest Bram.......

As I read the words my dear sister had written the night she disappeared I knew that something bad had befallen her and my dream that she had slipped away in the night to run away with her lover is dead for now I know his name and I know that he still resides here in our little town and that she is most likely dead like my dream. He was always an unusal lad and despite his fame and success I have never liked him and that lurid book he wrote... Well I always suspected it was not completley fiction. My dear sister Lucy if only I had known I could have stopped you.

His Curve Ball

He always told me that he would be famous one day. I am not sure I really believed him. But he was right. He is famous. His memoir has been the number one best seller on the New York Times list for over two years now. He can be seen on all the talk shows, in all the tabloids and at all the best parties. They have begun to film the story of his life. When I left him all those years ago I never expected to become the villain of his story. I never thought my name would become a synonym for evil. I heard a couple of young women on the train the other day refer to one of their acquaintances as an " Alice Winters". It was not a compliment. I knew when I left him that I had hurt him. I never expected the venom that spilled from his pen. When I heard of his success I was happy for him, then I read the memoir. I remember our story differently. If I had not lived this story with him, I too would hate Alice Winters. The character he draws is terrible. I try to see it from his point of veiw, but I can not. I may be the villain of his story, but I am the heroine of mine.

I Quit

" I Quit, I quit, I quit!" these words repeated through her head as she walked to work. Enough was enough, she was tired of all the crap and this time she was really going to do it. No putting off, she would find another job. This job was not her life and she was going to quit. Really, today was the day. As she walked on she thought of all the horrible things that had happened to her over the last few years, the bad treatment by her bosses, the laughs, the jeers, she was done, no more. As she entered the fairgrounds she saw her boss and she marched over to him and bravely said,
" I quit!"

He laughed and said " Oh come on Mary you know that you are not going to quit."

" Yes, I am." she said.

"Fine, fine so you quit, lets see what your sister has to say about that. So Elisa are you quiting too?"

Mary turned to her twin sister who just looked back at her with a sad look in her eye and said, " No Mr. Smith I am not quitting, Mary and I have no place else to go."

And with that, Mary's attempt to break free was over. Elisa tried to console her as they headed toward the Midway and their booth in the Freak Show.

The Future of our Planet

She stood on the deck of the ship looking out upon the vast emptiness, no stars, no moons, no planet existed. She remembered when her planet had been vibrant, lush and green. Now there was nothing. When the scientist had first begun speaking about the effects of pollution and over population no one had believed them. Everyone had laughed and by the time they stopped laughing and began to believe it was too late. In the last twenty years of the planet they had built ships to evacuate. It had not been enough time. There were not enough ships and many people would be left behind on the dead planet. On the day the ships left the planet she said her final good-byes to her parents and siblings. That had been ten years ago, ten years of living on these ships. Ten years of looking for another home and then in the last month the scientist had discovered a planet that looked like it could sustain them. It was lush and green like there old home. Unfortunately it was populated with creatures who were slowly killing it. The High Council had decide it would be necessary to rid the planet of these creatures. Her people would be better care takers, for they understood the fragility of ecosystems. She looked forward to seeing this third planet from the sun.

Tired and Sore

She stood over his prone form with her colt revolver drawn and ready to shoot again. It had taken her months to track him down, months of ceaseless riding, months of dirt, months of hate, and now that she had finally filled him with lead she felt empty, as if all of her anger had been fired from her body like the bullets from her gun. The first time she had seen him had been that rainy night three years ago when he and his gang had ridden in while the moon was obscured by the clouds, killing her husband, shooting her pregnant belly and leaving her to bleed in the rain as she listened to their laughter as they rode away. She had survived but the child had not, so when her sister had arrived to take her back east she did not resist at first, but then she found her husbands old trunk of clothes left over from his days as a gunslinger and at the bottom was the buttery soft white leather jacket, when she put it on she knew what she had to do. She practiced every day for three months, honing the skills she had begrudgingly learned when she first moved west to marry her husband and after three months she knew that when she found him she would beat him shot for shot. She found him in a whore house in Abilene and at noon the next day she had eased the knawing, burning anger in her heart.

It rings and rings and rings but no one is home

The telephone rang and rang and rang. I slammed down the receiver and cursed at the heavens. Where the hell was she? she had said she would call at 10:30 and that was four hours ago. This was not good. Not good at all. If she did not get here soon every thing would be over. The plans we made would be finished. My mind turned to the the plans we had made. We were going to take the cash and travel the world. We would buy sari's and spices in India and see the Taj Majal. We would climb to base camp in Nepal and drink butter tea in Kathmandu. We would walk the entire length of the Great Wall. We would eat puffer fish in Japan and bath in mineral springs. We would take the Trans Siberian railroad and make jokes with babushkas. We would see the Blue Mosque in Turkey and swim in the Black Sea on the coast of Bulgaria. We would lie on the ground in Transylvania and pretend to have been over come by the charisma of Dracula. We would drink Champagne in France and eat chocolate in Belgium..... The list went on and on and only as the phone rang did I realize another hour had passed. I answered the phone and it was my mother.

" Turn on the TV!" she said.

I turned on the TV and there she was, I dropped the telephone as she was handed the giant check for 350 million dollars with out me.

Composed

She stood in the doorway of the grand ballroom looking for all the world like the most composed women there. She held her head high, her hair was perfectly coiffed, her make-up expertly applied and her dress immaculate. Every one who looked at her envied her composure. She had always looked like this, had always been able to appear as if she had it all together, every minute of every day. But if you had looked deeper on this night you would have seen the slight sheen to her eyes that belied that composure. You would have seen a small speck of blood on her perfect shoes. You would have seen the tightness of her face. If you had looked closer you would have seen that the composure was a mask. A mask she had used well these last twelve years. Twelve years in which she had stalked, caught and tonight killed the perfect husband. Who on his death left her 20 million dollars. Twelve years of composure would soon slip away to reveal the real women she was, but first she had to keep herself composed for one last time and appear like she was the women she claimed to be at this fundraising gala she had organized. Then when her dead husband's body was found in the tragic car accident and once the funeral was over she could take her money and disappear. She could leave behind this boring, composed facade and live the life she was meant to live. Freedom at last.

Six Senteces Volume 1

The new Six Sentences book came out today and is available on Amazon. I have three stories in the collection. It should we fantastic. Rob McEvily who created the website Six Sentences is super cool and if you get the chance you should support the site and buy the book, plus you would also get to read my three stories and one of them is all about a robot of course! I will also have two stories up on the website, one on May 6th and the other May 8th( this one is about Dolly Parton.

Without Fear

Wasn’t it FDR that said “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself?” She was pretty sure that despite his bout with polio and a World War he knew nothing about real fear. He did not know what it was like to be a five year old powerless little girl who watched her father beat her mother every night. He did not know what it was like to be a twelve year old powerless girl roaming the streets at night looking for a way to buy some food because she had no home. He did not know what it was like to be an eighteen year old powerless girl whose only options for survival had been selling her body to anyone who would pay. He did not know what it was like to be a 25 year old powerless woman whose only answer was to leave the baby at the fire station because at least it would be safe there. He did not know what it was like to be poor, abused and powerless all your life and the only dream you had ever had was a home, family and decent job. She figured that if she had the same advantages that FDR had perhaps she too could have been fearless, but as it was, fear was the only thing that kept her alive.

She did not get it...........

Any of it, ever. She could not understand why after all these years it was happening again. The bright lights, the flashes of panic. Couldn't the just leave them alone. Did they have to do this? He told her, she should stopping trying to figure it and just accept it. That she would never understand their reasons. "But don't they understand you love it here and want to stay." "I don't know" he said. "Don't worry they will be gone soon." She just shook her head and sighed. He was right they would be gone soon and then they could get back to their lives and it wasn't like they visited all the time. Once every 10 years or so and for the most part they were good visits. It was really just when they would harp on him to move back home. How could they not understand that she could never live there. She could not raise her kids there. Hopefully one day her in-laws would figure out that the Earth was their home now.

The Experiment

It was four o clock in the morning when they began the experiment. They sat side by side on the lab table as the doctors wired them up. She knew that if it did not work this time she was done. She had grown tired of the constant test and questions. She could she thought go on living this way the rest of her life. It really was not as bad as most people would think. She had over the course of the last six months gotten used to it. She had never really thought that what she would miss most was nail polish. She could not explain why this one stupid little thing made her tear up every time she thought of never being able to paint her nails again, bright sparkly pink, iridescent purple, deep dark red. If the experiment did not work, those days were over. She felt the first jolt of electricity run through her body and then everything went black. When she woke up it was afternoon and she was groggy. Slowly she remembered the experiment, she looked down at her body. She screamed at what she saw. A doctor rushed into the room and asked what was wrong, all she could do was shake her head and laugh and cry. She was back, back in the body she had been born with, back in her self. Thank God the experiment had worked; she had been getting tired of standing up to pee.

She slept through her Life

She could clearly in vivid detail remember the day she meet him. She could describe exactly how he looked and what he said. She remembered the dress she was wearing; it was the green merino wool that brought out the red in her hair. He had been so very handsome with his dark hair, blue eyes and Irish brogue. He was from Detroit come to Chicago to work in the slaughter houses. She was working the reception desk when he checked into the hotel. Her Hotel, owned with her three sisters and brother. They had worked so hard to achieve this and she was very proud of it. But in that moment she first saw him she knew she would give it all up to have him. When they married she was happy. Happy to move to Detroit, happy to leave behind the hotel, Chicago and her family. It was only later she would regret it. After she no longer loved him, after two children, after his drinking destroyed him, after she could no longer remember why she had ever loved him. It was funny ,really, how she remembered the minutest detail about the day they meet but could remember nothing after, not the birth of their children, not the anger, not the violence, not even the day the police knocked on their door to tell her he was dead. She buried him in a cemetery in Detroit, took her children and went home. Could she have guessed that without her memories he would be lost? Lost to the children he had loved in his own way, lost to the grand children that would follow, lost to the great grandson who drove by the cemetery where he was buried every day on his way to work, never knowing that in that graveyard was a piece of him.

A dark haired blue eyed Irishman hangs on my wall. He is handsome. With him is a lovely red haired woman who, looks at him with love. They must have been very happy.

Mixed Nuts

They sat in a circle in her office every Thursday at 8pm. They would discuss their many problems and she would pretend to listen. When they all left at 9pm she would exhale with relief. By 9:15 every Thursday she would be at the bar on the corner of Chandler Street, a drink in her hand and friends by her side. This Thursday was no different. She ordered a drink at the bar and smiled as her friend Dan pushed the bowl of nuts toward her.

Walden Pond

23 July 1845

She had refused him and he was crushed. He had imagined their life together. Him writing wonderful transcendental treatises and her taking care of him, washing his clothes, cooking his food, cleaning the cabin. It would have been perfect. She claimed she cared for him but that her father would never let them marry; he was beginning to suspect this was a lie. Last evening in the Pub he heard from a mutual friend that she had accepted the proposal of another man. It had only been one month since his own proposal. Was she fickle? Were her affections easily swayed? He was in fact sure it must be something in her character for he was a fine catch. He was very fashionable just look at his very cool and stylish neck beard. He was very smart, just look at his great writings and pondering. He was very well connected was not he, with his many fellow transcendentalist? It must be her. I mean what women would not want to live with him in a small shack on the edge of Walden Pond? It was going to be lovely. Oh well, her loss, who needed women anyway? He should get back to his writing.

Elvis has left the Building

He stood by the grave and admired the many flowers left by fans. It was a lovely site to behold. He was still amazed all these years later the reverence people had for him and his music. The fact that even after his death his name could still bring millions and millions of dollars was at times shocking. But he was happy that his family was taken care of because he had had to leave all those years ago and he felt bad about that. He felt bad that his daughter thought he was dead, but it had to be done. His life had been spiraling out of control for so long that the only way out was death. So he had planned it, everything down to the last detail. It had worked perfectly. Everyone thought he was dead and despite the occasional " I saw Elvis story” in the Weekly World News he had lived a quite life. None of those stories ever got close to the truth. Did people really think he would still look like Elvis? After his "death" he had lost weight and dyed his hair blond and gotten plastic surgery. He looked nothing like himself. His current wife and children had no idea he was anything more then Ted Fromby from Winnetka. IL, High School History Teacher and baseball coach. He was really proud of his team; they had made the State play-offs this year. He took one last look at the grave, turned away with a chuckle and headed back toward the front gate where his family waited.

Miscellaneous Monsters

When she had joined with them last spring she had never realized how powerful she would feel. For so long she had lived in the shadows, hidden by her family and of her own accord. Then one night a year ago she had been on one of her late night walks through the city. She avoided the daylight and as the town slept she could wonder the streets without fear of being seen. But on this particular night she stumbled across an amazing vision, at first she thought it was her eyes playing tricks but it was not. There in the light of a street lamp she saw a thug attack a woman and then before she could act from the darkness came this band of misfits who stopped the attacker and helped the victim. They hid their collective identity's behind masks and capes, but she could see that like her they were different. For the first time in her 16 years she knew she was not alone. There were others like her. Others who hid in the darkness, but used their strength for good. She had found not only comrades, but a calling. She followed them back to their hideout that night and begged them to let her join them. They finally relented and let her join the team. She still lived in the shadows of the night but now she had friends and respect and a grateful city. For alone she was just one monster but together they were superheros!

The Day She Discovered Her Superpower

July 4th 1984 started like all the other 4th of Julys she had experienced in her 14 years. Flags were proudly displayed on every lawn, dogs barked in yards and kids played on the sidewalks. They were heading to the parade that morning and then going over to the O’Malley’s for a bar-b-que and swim party. The parade was fun and she got a huge bag of candy. At 14 she was just on the verge of being too old for parades and bags of candy but for this one last summer she was still a kid that was until she discovered her power that afternoon at the pool party. It all started innocently enough. She realized as she was changing in the bathroom at the O’Malley’s that she had forgotten her t-shirt that she always wore over her swimsuit. Her mother who had always thought it strange she would wear a t-shirt to swim in told her to get changed and forget about the t-shirt. So that is what she did and when she walked out of the bathroom that day it was the first time that anyone in the last three years would see her without a bag shirt and they were surprised. The body in the swimsuit was that of a woman. At 14 she was still embarrassed by her shape and had tried, successfully since developing to hide it all behind large shirts. But in her swimsuit she was exposed and embarrassed, but the embarrassment went away quickly when Tommy O’Malley asked her to join his team for water volleyball. Tommy was the eldest O’Malley boy and at 17 with his beach blond looks he was popular with the girls and he had never in the 8 years she had known him ever given her the slightest acknowledgement, but today was different. She was different and she quickly realized the power she had been hiding behind that t-shirt. Over the next several years she would use that power without thought, she became very popular with the boys and liked the attention she got when she wore a low cut top. As the years passed and she got older and wiser she realized that the true power of her weapons was in knowing when to use them and when to conceal them.

New and Improved

She was not so sure that she liked the new and improved Lorali. As she looked at her new face in the mirror she felt slightly sick. Is this who she was now. This pert nosed full lipped beauty queen that looked back from the mirror. When she had first removed the bandages she felt giddy with anticipation but seeing the face was a whole different matter. She looked nothing like the old Lorali. Could she live with this new face. Would she become a different person with this new and improved face. She was scared for the first time since the surgery was suggested. Scared that she had made a mistake, scared that she would change, scared that no one would recognize her ever again. Her doctor entered the room and gently lead her back to the bed. In soothing words he told her not to worry that it would take a little time to get used to the new her. She fell into that dreamless sleep that only medication can bring.

The Doctor walked back to the observation room where his colleuges waited. " I am worried," he started " her heart rate skyrocketed when she saw her face, what if it can not hold out when she finally sees what we have done to the rest of her? What good will a cyborg be if her heart explodes just from the shock of being a cyborg."

Ordering Pizza

She was hungry and he was going to be late he said but that he had a way better excuse then the last time. Way Better! So she waited and when he got that there it was a better excuse, he had brought stuff to make dinner, Way better because she was hungry. But by the time they got around to making dinner it was already eight o clock and she was super hungry and secretly thought to herself maybe they should just order a pizza. As they cooked the dinner and her stomach would growl she would think to herself I wish we had just ordered a pizza. Then everything started to go wrong and the chicken burned then the rice boiled over and it was time to face the truth, they should have just ordered pizza. So she called the pizza place on the corner and ordered a pizza. As she sat and stared at the pizza all she could think about was how she really did not even like pizza!

Good Times

Now and then I sit and stare out of the window wondering how I got to this place in my life. Once i had been young and carefree; willing to do almost anything for a good time. But things have changed now and I am calmer and more set in my ways. Things I once did now appall me. I lived hard and fast and have the scars and body art to prove it. When your young you think the whole world is your oyster to use a cliched phrase. I really thought I would live that kind of life forever. I was stupid. Now I know that the things we do catch up with us and we will have regrets. But sometimes despite everything I remember myself then and feel a little wistful. Wistful for the beauty, the youth the innocence I had. Now as a sit and stare out of this barred window in this maximum security prison with all the other murders I know that beauty, youth and innocence do not last for ever and if I had been smarter I would have used those things wiser instead of wasting them a good time.

The Dance

On the edge of the dance floor stood the girl. She was small for her age and covered from head to toe in unrelenting black. Her classmates would have been surprised to learn that she loved to dance for they had never seen her dance at a single dance over the last four years. She had come to every dance but she always stood on the sidelines, alone. At this ,their Prom and final dance of High School, she came alone and stood on the side of the dance floor in her black dress. Not a single peek of skin was revealed by her dress. Most of her classmates could not remember if they had ever seen the girl's skin other then her hands and face for it seemed she was never without a long sleeve turtle neck and long pants. But none of her classmates ever really paid attention to the girl in black. There were ,at every High School, those kids everyone considered odd and she was one of them at their school. So when the clock struck midnight and she vanished from her spot no one seemed to notice. If they had been paying attention they would have seen the air next to her shimmer for a second and her quickly slip through the shimmer. If someone had noticed her disappearance and followed her through the shimmer they would have believed that the punch was spiked and what they were seeing was all in their imagination. For through that shimmer was another dance floor identical to theirs, except instead of the frolicking young students from Peyton High School the dance floor was full of monsters, demons, witches and vampires. And there on the dance floor was the girl in black, no longer in black but free of the constraints of the human world she removed her long dress to reveal a shimmering silver strapless dress. Her tattooed arms waving to the music she danced with her friends and practiced her magic. Reveling in the freedom to be herself.

When she returned home that night and her parents asked how the dance was she would replay as always, " It was fun." And her parents would be happy that the daughter they loved but who seemed so odd and weird to them at least made the effort to be normal every once in awhile.

The Walk

I saw a movie once at the National Holocaust Museum in Washington DC. It was at the end of the tour I took. We all filed into the small theater and the film started. Survivors told their stories. By the end I wept. A women shared her story in flashes. A man shared his in flashes. It was summer and she was going to school when her father made her change from her sandals to her winter boots. She thought he was crazy but he seemed so determined she did what he said. The man joined the US Army and went to fight in WWII. The day the woman wore her winter boots in the middle of the summer was the day her family was rounded up and sent to a concentration camp. She spent two years in that camp wearing her winter boots. Near the end of the war she was forced with thousand of others who had miraculously survived to march from one camp to the next in the middle of the winter. If she had not been wearing those boots she would have died. Her father was already dead. The man helped the US Army push into Germany. He had seen terrible things over the last few years but nothing prepared him for what was to come. When the German soldiers abandoned the camp where she was they were free but so many did not have the strength to leave. They were living skeletons. She and several other women went out side the gates to get water. There they were approached by US Soldiers who had come to liberate them. When he approached the group of women he was shocked. They were like skeletons with grey hair but none of them were older then twenty. He asked if he could help them, he called them ladies. When the US soldier called them ladies she wept. It was the first time in years anyone had ever referred to them as ladies. She fell in love with him just a little bit. That love would grow and be returned. They would marry and have children and one day would make a film that would be played in the National Holocaust Museum.

Left then right

First she turned left on Main street walked a few blocks and turned right into the alley. She dropped the bag of cash in the red dumpster and walked back out heading back the way she had come. It was all the money she had in the world but it was worth it to get him back. Who ever had done this had known her weakness. She was both angry and sad that someone must either hate her or was so desperate for money they would do this evil thing. 53,429 dollars. That was how much they wanted. It was exactly what she had in her savings account. She had a sneaking suspicion that the person who was doing this knew here and knew her pretty well. She walked back to her apartment on pins and needles. They said they would call once they had retrieved the money with the location to pick him up. She waited half the night for the call but it never came. She was devastated. She had done everything they asked but still they had not given him back. She cried that night for him. The the next morning through the haze of her tears she heard a faint barking. She jumped up. The barking seemed to be coming from the entry way of her apartment building. She threw open the door and there he was jumping with joy, wagging his little tail. Her baby was home.

The Pile

It lay in piles about the room, tall piles, small piles, wide piles, and very green piles. He came to the room often just to look at it. All that money just laying around. They had no use for money anymore but they kept it here stored in a subbasement of the Cultural History Museum. As a guard at the museum he had keys to everything and on his breaks he would often come down here to see the money. They had never had money during his life time and it was not until he had started working at the museum had he ever seen it. He could on a certain level understand its draw. It was so lovely to look at. They had not need of money now. Everything was was kept on little chips embedded in the back of the neck. When he got paid they ran a scanner across his neck, when he bought food they ran a scanner across his neck, and when he bought a dirty magazine they scanned his neck. It was easier that way. But when he looked at those piles of money he sometimes wished for the old days. One of his co-workers would make fun of him always telling him statistics about crime and money and germs and money. He knew it was not healthy but he loved the look of it. He imagined that spending it had felt good. To actually have something tangible as proof of days work must have been nice. So it was not a surprise to his co-workers when he was discovered that day, naked and laughing, rolling around in the piles of money.

The Hospital Morgue

It was cold, really cold in here she thought. She threw off the blanket and tried to sit up. She rammed her head against the ceiling. Was she dreaming? She sat up again scrunching down to avoid hitting her head. The ceiling was maybe two feet from the bed. She felt around in the darkness and only felt the cold sides of this room she was in or better yet this box she was in. What the heck was happening. She started to shake and then screamed as loud as she could. Nothing, no one! Her neck throbbed as if it had been torn open. She tried to figure a way out of this cold box but she could not find a latch on what appeared to be a door at the end of the long box. Then a thought struck her. Was she in a coffin? Was she buried alive? She screamed again. Nothing! Oh my God, Oh My God she thought I have been buried alive. Who would do this? How did they do it? She did not remember much from the party the night before. All she remembered was dancing and drinking and people dressed in crazy costumes. She had spent weeks deciding the perfect costume for the Halloween party. She had found the delicate white silk dress at a thrift store and then splattered it with fake blood. She had painstakingly painted on the bite marks for her costume. She had gotten so many compliments on her Vampire's Victims costume. Then the very good looking guy dressed as Dracula had found her. She was sure it was true love, they had spent the entire evening together. But then it all went hazy and she could not remember the rest of the evening and now she was buried alive in this steel box. She began to scream and kick and cry and then light at the end of the tunnel. She was slowly pulled out of the steel box. She blinked at the bright light. Looking around she saw that she was in a hospital morgue. She sat up touched her neck and realized that the bite marks were not the result of her make-up. He was standing with his hand held out for her. She put her hand in his and stood up.

" Ah my little victim, the night is ours." Dracula said

The Queens Law

The Queen stood on the small balcony over looking the parade area. She was pleased, the preparations for tomorrows celebration were almost complete and every thing looked wonderful. She turned and walked back into the palace with a satisfied smile on her face. She decide to retire to her rooms for the evening and prepare herself for the next days celebration. She slept that night secure in herself and the laws she had set forth for this land. She was ,to her mind, a wonderful leader and tomorrows celebration would reinforce all the good that had happened since she had come to power.
The next morning she dressed with care in her brilliant blue sparkly frock and proceeded to the same balcony on which she had observed the preparations the day before. The parade ground was crowded with her subjects and a loud cheer went up when she stepped out on the balcony. This was it, the culmination of everything she had just spent the last year doing. A celebration of her first year as Queen. When she had passed her first decree she was uncertain how her people would take it but they had accepted it without reserve and once that decree had been put into action and all the humans eliminated it was easier to impose her rule on her subjects.
She stepped forward to the railing of the balcony raised her hand for silence and a hush fell over the crowd. " Friends, Robots and countrymen lend me your audio sensors......"

Dream Job

What do you do for a living he asked? She looked at him seriously and said, " I sell world Peace." he laughed thinking she was joking, " No really what do you do?" It was the same every time, they always laughed, no one ever took her seriously. But what she said was the truth, although admittedly she did say it to be cute and funny. It invariably worked, people laughed and thought she was charming and clever. She would then explain she was a fundraiser for an organization that was working toward the ultimate goal of world peace by eradicating poverty, etc, etc. They would nod their head and say the same thing, " Who doesn't want world peace." So she used the line often and the result was always the same, but she believed most people really did not get it, that the idea of real World Peace was so foreign to them that they could never understand that when she said it she really meant it. Sometimes at night she would fall asleep thinking about all the things that needed to be done at work and just like any job there were little annoyances she had to take care off and as she fell asleep sometimes these would be in her head but as she dreamed on those nights it was never about the annoyances but about a world full of peace and happiness for everyone, she knew it was a cliche but when she awoke on those mornings after such dreams she felt energized and would smile into her cereal bowl in the morning thinking about how best to sell her product.

Sorry, No Scribble

The teacher had written this on his first piece of art that fateful day in first grade. When he read it his little mind rebelled. Who was she to judge that his scribble was not art. So from that day forward he refused to draw anything but scribbles. They were beautiful in there simplicity. Each time his drawings would come back with comments about his scribbling when he was asked to draw a house or his family. He did not care his teacher was a philistine. In High School his scribblings got darker and richer with color, but all the while he continued to fail every art class he took. But he cared not for their F's and continued to scribble his heart out. Perhaps no one would ever see what he saw in those beautiful colorful scribbles. In college he continued with his art. Having given up hope that anyone would recognize the true beauty of his work he was surprised to be asked to exhibit his art in the annual College Art Show. When he won the first prize he was even more Surprised. 15 Years later he was still surprised of his success. His Art sold for millions and was displayed in every major Art Museum in the world. That first Art Teacher had even sent him a note after his first major exhibit. " I was wrong, scribble all you want!"