The messenger

He came for me that night. I knew it was my time, but I was still not prepared for his arrival. The message was clear. I packed my baggage and followed him out the door. He smiled a sad smile and I took one last look at the house I had lived in for the last forty years. It was lovely with the rising sun glinting off its windows. I had been happy there and had lived a good life. I turned back to death nodded my head and reached for the hand he held out to me.

The Opal Ring

Her Mother wore it on special occasions. It burned as if lite from a fire with in. Under the candle light it sparkled so brightly that she would have to shield her eyes as she peeked around the corner into the dining room, on those nights her parents had one of their dinner parties. She wanted that ring so badly. When her parents were away she would sneak into their room and open the jewelry box on the dresser and try it on. She imagined herself older, dressed in a gown wearing that ring.

She sold it to the pawn shop when she was so desperate that it was either the ring or herself. When she went back for it years later it was gone. The pawnshop had no record of who had purchased it so there was no tracking it down. Every where she went after that she would look for the ring, every hand she shook, every glass of wine she passed to another, every sparkle that gleamed on another’s hand, she would look. Over the years she saw some very beautiful rings, but none that would ever compare to that opal ring of her mother’s.

A Bump in the Night

When the war started I did not join. I wanted no part of it. I keep myself hidden and off the radar, staying in the shadows of the night, but unfortunately all of that ended last night when I heard a loud thump above me in the house. Someone had come into my domain. I did not like this war that was going on and I wanted not part of it but I drew the line at my house and sanctuary being invaded. I grabbed the gun I always had at the ready and crept up the stairs to the floor above slowly. At the end of the hallway I could see a small sliver of light under the door at the end. That is where they were. I crept silently down the hall to the door and slowly creaked it open with my gun ready to fire and what the heck do you think I saw. Two small adorable children sitting on the floor eating chocolate. They looked at me with their big eyes and held out the candy bar. I put down the gun and joined them on the floor. On this one night perhaps the war could be put to rest at least for a while. I took the chocolate and had a taste. It was so good. I had not had chocolate for years. We sat silently in that circle. The humans and the zombie enjoying a small respite from the blood and gore that had torn the world apart. The children rose their feet gave me a small salute and left through the window. I smiled to myself, because I knew that if I ever meet those two out in the street one of us would die.

The invitation

The invitation came two weeks before the end of the world. She held it in her hands and wept. Wept for everything that was and everything that could have been. She sent her regrets and waited. Waited for the explosion that would be the end of the world. Her mother called and begged her to reconsider. Her sister called, her aunt called. They had all accepted the invitation, but she refused to change her mind. She refused to go. This is where she belonged. So on that day two weeks later when the giant comet hit the earth and blew it into a million little pieces she was still there, sitting in her apartment as the world exploded. If she had accepted that invitation she would have been floating with the rest of her family on a giant spaceship shaped like a hot dog watching from a porthole as the world died.

Fairy Tale Hair

It hung down her back in lovely curls. It was her crowning glory. She often felt like a story book princess with that hair. But on this particular day as she and her family were herded into the camp and segregated by sex she did not feel anywhere close to a princess. As the camp guard shaved off the beautiful hair she refused to cry. Over the next few years she would rub her shorn scalp and smile. The hair was gone but she had survived.

The Monarch

She put her glasses on adjusted her suit and walked into the office building. To a casual observer she looked like every other young woman who was entering the busy office building on this Tuesday morning. In her dark suit and glasses she looked like your typical young executive who was climbing the ladder to the top hoping not to hit the glass ceiling. But if you were more then a casual observer, perhaps someone who also knew how to conceal your real identity, you might observe that the color of her hair was just a tad off, or that the glasses she wore were simple glass, or that the suit she wore covered the body of a skilled warrior. But these things were only apparent to another who worked in her same field and had employed similar tactics to conceal his identity. He got up from where he was sitting and adjusting his own suit and walked toward the building. Riding up in the elevator with his weapon concealed beneath the newspaper he held he regretted that it had been so easy to find out her every day identity. He had hoped that it would be harder to find her and still harder to kill her but it looked like this was going to be the easiest job he had ever had. He was very disappointed. He got off the elevator and headed toward the end of the hall where he knew her office was located. He smiled to himself as he looked around the luxurious office building. He could not believe that someone so skilled and adept would hide her secret identity behind the image of a frumpy accountant. What another disappointment. He expected something sexy not an accountant. He slowed as he got closer to her door. There was a sliver of a window running down the side of the door. He peered in and saw her sitting at her desk tapping away at the key board of her computer. This was too easy he thought as he twisted the knob of the office door and burst into the room. He barely felt the slight jolt as the bullet pierced his chest and blood bloomed on the front of his white shirt. She stood over him as he slide to the ground. “ Did you really think it would be that easy” she asked. “ I am really disappointed.” She said. “I was really looking forward to a challenge, and I am a little angry that I am now going to have to find a new identity to conceal my secret one, I really liked being an Accountant!” She went to her desk picked up her bag and walked back toward him. He felt hot and weak at the same time and he knew he would soon be dead. She kneeled down beside him and placed a monarch butterfly on his chest. Then she stepped over him and as she walked down the hallway he could hear the clicking of her heels on the hard wood floor, it was the last sound he would ever hear. When the police arrived to find his prone body the lead detective muttered, “I wonder what this guy did to piss off the Monarch?”

They Travel Together

She met him in a bar in Kansas City. He needed a ride and she could use the company. So they travelled through Kansas and Colorado and on into Utah together. It was a silent trip and she liked that. They conversed only when necessary about gas, restrooms and food.They stopped at a gas station just outside Bluff, Utah. She waited for an hour but he never came back to the car. He was gone. He had left just as quietly as he had entered. As the years rolled by she would sometimes wonder about that fellow traveler, who was he, where did he go, that sort of thing. When she died at 85 after a long and happy life in California where she had escaped to, an old man showed up at her funeral that no one knew. He walked up to the casket, knelled, spoke a few words to the deceased and then left. After he left if you had been a keen observer you may have noticed the small photo, that the man had carried for 60 years, tucked into the folds of the caskets satin lining. It was a photo of a beautiful young woman and written on the back were instructions from the man's boss, " Kill this Bitch, no one leaves me before I am done with them."

The Book

I read it for the first time when I was 12. It changed everything. It opened my eyes and made me realize that the world was not the place I had thought. She kept it hidden in a secret comparmtent in the bottom drawrer of her dresser. When I found it, I knew that I should not read it, but I could not resist. It shattered me into a million pieces. Over the years I would sneak it out and read it over and over. I am sure she never knew for if she had she would have seen that I looked at her differently. She would have seen it in my eyes. She would have seen that I no longer looked at her as just "Mom". On that day when I was 12 and read all her secrets, she became more to me, she became flesh and blood, an actual woman. It changed everything.

The Fluency of Corn

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.

"When Pigs Fly"

I saw a pig fly today. I was walking down the path I always take past Farmer Pendleton's farm and I kid you not, a pig with wings flew right by me. Then crashing through the brush I see Timmy Thompson chasing the flying pig. He screeched when he saw me, stopping and panting for breath.

" Hullo, Miz Simmons, " Timmy wheezed, " Bessy and I were just practicing for the costume contest this week-end at the festival, she got a little irritated with the wings and ran off, you did not happen to see which way she went did you?"

I pointed down the path and Timmy took off at a run. I turned back heading north on the path shaking my head, Bessy was not the first pig I had seen fly and I suspected she would not be the last while living in this little frontier town called Hell, which held an ice festival each year called 'Hell Frozen Over', complete with a flying pig costume contest. At least living in Hell was never dull.

A Clear Message?

The message was clear, "Meet me at the corner of Fifth and Sheridan at 2 pm, tell no one." She stood on the corner of Fifth and Sheridan and waited. It was now 2:30 and still he was not here. She had begun to fidget and check her watch every 30 seconds at 2:15. Where the heck was he and why had he sent that ridiculous note. At three she left, cursing his name, the day she met him and her own stupid hormones that had got her tangled up with him. Really in the year she had known him they had fought more then they got along. She was a fool for even responding to his note. It had been almost a month since she last saw him. She was wasting her time. He was never going to change.

He stood in the shadows of the building across the street from the corner of Fifth and Sheridan where he had told her to meet him. He watched as she kept checking her watch and started fidgeting. He knew by 2:30 she would be cursing the day she ever met him. She was so beautiful standing on that corner waiting for him. They could have been really good together, but he was destined for other things. When he had attended the CIA recruitment event at college he never expected his life to turn out this way. He took one last look at her as she checked her watch as he turned away, slipping into the shadows of the alley knowing he would never see her again.

The toughest Job you will ever Love

Ten years ago I boarded a night train leaving from Silistra, Bulgaria heading for Sofia, Bulgaria. I cried the whole 12 hour train ride I think. Cried for a city I have not been back to visit. Cried for the people I loved in that city. Cried for a dream achieved and finished. When I arrived on that very same train two years before I never imagined that I would become so attached, so changed, so loved. I was living the dream of many young Americans who hear the words of JFK, " Ask not what you country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." As a Peace Corps volunteer I was speaking a different language, living in a different culture and changing who I was. I learned that the world was an unjust place and that I was privileged. I learned that sometimes the littlest thing could bring a smile to your face. I learned what true friendship was and I learned that love can make the world brighter. Ten years ago I left my home and came home and that has made all the difference.

New Leaf

She promised herself this year she would turn over a new leaf. It was her New Year's resolution. But 2 minutes and 13 seconds into 2010 she was up to her same old tricks and a man was dead in the gutter because of her. She had not meant to do it, but he had grabbed her from behind and really she had no choice, no one grabbed her from behind. She went absolutely ballistic, pummeling the man with a strength and vengeance that none of her colleagues at the library would ever believe she was capable of, she was a librarian in children's books after all, she spent her days surrounded by children and picture books, but underneath her tweed skirt and sweater set beat the heart of a warrior. All of the witnesses agreed that the women who killed this man was at least six feet tall and stunningly beautiful, they were all sure. They disagreed on her hair color, some said vibrant red, others glistening black, all were sure she was wearing a leather skirt and thigh high boots. You see witnesses tend to see only what they want, so when the mild mannered mousy haired, five foot two librarian in the tweed skirt walked away from the scene of the crime shaking her head and muttering about a new leaf, no one paid attention.

Being Weird

She had skinned her knee again. It seemed that she always had a skinned knee, bruised elbow, scratched leg, or stubbed toe. She was klutzy and had never felt comfortable in her skin, ever, not for 12 years. Her parents said she would grow into her body and that everyone sometimes felt like they did not belong in their own skin. But she seriously believed that this feeling of hers was different then that. She really thought she did not belong in the body she now occupied. She could not describe it to anyone and had never tried for fear they would laugh at her. She got that enough and did not need anything else to make people think she was a freak. On the morning of her thirteenth birthday with a skinned knee she sat down for breakfast with her parents. They were acting weird but she did not dwell on it. All she could think about was what was going to happen at school and how she had to get up in front of her whole class and read her poem. She hated speaking in front of her class. So when her Mom cleared her throat and said she need to talk to her about something important, she was not really focusing on what she was saying. All she really noticed was the moving of her Mom’s lips and her nervous hand gestures. That was until her Mom slowly reached up to her hair line and pulled off her face. She gasped and watched in horror as her Dad also reached up and pulled off his face. Underneath was the most beautiful iridescent blue skin she had ever seen. She truly listened then and sat and took it all in, absorbing everything. Then she stood up and went slowly up to her room. What she learned was going to take some time to sort out. But first she had to see if it was true. She went to the mirror on her closet door and lifted up her hair. She had never really paid attention to the scar that ran along her hairline. Her parents had told her she had minor surgery when she was a baby, but apparently that was not true. Apparently what her parents meant when they said she had minor surgery was that they had created a human skin to cover her real skin so that she could live as a human. So she lifted her hair again and pulled her skin down and their beneath the human skin was the blue iridescent skin. It was lovely. She was lovely. Her eyes when seen with the human skin appeared plain and brown but with this blue skin they glowed a bright amber color. She was still adjusting to this revelation when her older brother burst through the door of her room. He started talking and everything gushed out about how their parents had told him on his thirteenth birthday and how it had taken him a while to adjust. She sank to the floor and just listened. Listened to his words flow over her. She started thinking about all her scrapes and bruises and how she had never felt as if she fit into this body and now she knew why. It was not her skin. Her skin was the iridescent blue that all her kind had in common. They had settled on earth three generations before; putting on their human costumes to blend in. Their planet had died over a hundred years ago and although most of her kind had settled on earth there were others who had settled on different planets in different solar systems. That evening as she looked out her window at all the stars shining brightly in the sky, a slow smile spread across her face. She fell asleep that night feeling comfortable for the first time in 13 years as the moon glistened on her bright blue skin.

Adventure of a lifetime

The instructions said to simply add water. So she filled the small glass jar with water and waited. She checked on it every few hours the first two days, then as the days became weeks she checked every few days. As the weeks became months she checked every few weeks and as those months added up and became years she simply forgot about the small glass jar and went on with her life. She grew up and went to high school, then college. She got a job she liked but did not love. She meet a man she liked but did not love. She liked the life she had carved for herself but she did not love it. She never complained and was grateful for a good steady life. But she did dream of far flung adventures with dashing men and fabulous clothes and exotic places. She dreamed of becoming a spy and seeking out all the worlds secrets She dreamed of being a doctor who traverses the Rainforest looking for its secret cures. She dreamed of speaking every language known to man. She held her dreams close to her and told no one of her desires. Until that day when she was reminded of the instructions she had followed years ago, "Just add water." The police came to her door that day asking questions, then the FBI showed up asking questions, then the CIA and Scotland Yard showed up asking more questions. She did not have the answers to their questions. She was confused. They took her away and put her in a small room by herself. They came again and asked the questions again, but this time she knew the answers, she even could answer in several languages. She did not know how she could do this but she could and slowly as they kept asking questions and she kept answering, she began to not just like her life but love it. What transpired after all the questions is a mystery because she left through a side door and no one has seen her since. Her parents keep mementos of her around the house to remind them that she did exist. One of the mementos her mother cherishes is the small glass jar that had once been filled with water by a little girl formulating dreams of the future, on the instruction tag it said, fill with water and all your dreams will come true.

Saturday Hawthorn

I can see things that others can not. I have know this from the time of my birth. I know that sounds unusual but it is true and I am unusual. There are stories told around the dinner table and to children as they go to bed. Stories about things that only come out at night. Stories about things that will take your soul with no remorse. Stories told by grandmothers with thick eastern European accents. Stories about a certain kind of person who can see these things while others can not. These stories frighten me for I know they are true. I was born on a Saturday to parents who are descendants of a dhapir. You are not from eastern Europe? You have not heard of this dhapir? Not many, in our thoroughly modern country have. My great great grandfather was the son of a drakus, a topyak,or do you prefer the word vampire. You were not aware that the vampire could have children, it is true, they can live among humans and have children with human women. When these children are born they have special powers to see those things that the rest can not, they have none of the bad traits of the vampire, but all the power. It is these dhapir that hunt the things that only come out at night. I am a descendant of two dampir and I hunt those who stalk the night. I am doubly blessed you see as I was born on a Saturday. In my ancestoral homeland it is often said those born on a Saturday can also see what is invisible. As you can imagine it is very difficult to live a normal teen-age life with boys, dates, school and friends. It is hard to explain why I have a backpack full of stakes made from the hawthorn tree and sharpened to point. It is hard to explain that I know Mr. Ganger ,the chemistry teacher, is really a demon and that tonight I will hunt him down and kill him. It is hard to explain that my sandwich is made with lamb meat killed by wolves because it keeps me strong. Oh well, no one ever said being sixteen was easy. Ah, look at the time, if you will excuse me now, it is time to go kill Mr. Ganger.

Born Under a Bad Moon

My grandmother always said I was born under a bad moon. Every time she visited me she would give me some sort of trinket to ward off the evil she said surrounded me. It shamed me but I did not have the strength to tell her I liked the evil. I liked the feel of it as it wrapped itself around me and made my heart pound with desire for all the things I knew were bad. The boys, the clothes, the drinks. My face would burn with shame every time I saw her and she clicked her tongue at me, but I never once stopped enjoying that feeling of bad. I never once thought about the pain I brought my family. I only ever thought of myself and now years later the shame of what I did still causes my face to flame and my hands to tremble.

The Junk

Every time she visited the house she made a beeline for the attic. It was full of the most beautiful junk you had every seen. She would play for hour upon hour up in that attic. Dressing up in old gowns long forgotten by time, playing with toys that had seen better decades, imaging a world of the past that only she could see. As she grew up the junk became less interesting being replaced by boys and make-up and shoes, lots and lots of shoes. It was not until later when the junk was gone ,the house that held it sold and the grandmother who had kept it long dead, that she remembered those long afternoons and longed for the junks return. She became a keen flea market and garage sell shopper going from place to place slowly find items that reminded her of the junk in that attic and slowly but surely as each new piece was acquired she had more junk then even that old attic had held and as she watched her own grandchild head right for the attic she knew that one day all this junk would be sold off piece by piece as history would invariably repeat itself, for the she would die and the little girl in the attic would grow up and discard this junk for boys, make-up and probably even shoes because she was her grandmothers, granddaughter after all.

Who now? Where now? When now?

She stood on the sidewalk outside her apartment and watched herself leave through the front door and head down the street. She followed herself down the street heading for the train. As she followed she took a closer look at herself. She was wearing the charcoal grey suit with the turquoise blouse, she knew that inside the large black tote bag were the dark grey pumps she always wore with that suit. She saw herself slow down to grab a paper on the corner like she did every morning of every day. Once they reached the train station and she started to ascend to the platform she stopped and watched herself reach the top. There was still time to make it before the train left the station. She hesitated as she watched herself get on the train and that is when she knew. She was not getting on that train. She had other things to do. So she took one last look at herself, smiled and headed in the other direction. Free of herself for the first time in years.

The first Kiss

When I spent Halloween in Transylvania I knew that it was going to be amazing. I decided that my costume had to be that of a vampire's victim. It was brilliant, everyone at the party thought it was the best costume ever for this location, the heart of vampire lore. The next morning I awoke groggy and disoriented, shuffling to the bathroom, I blamed the drinking from the night before, although I did not think I had over indulged. My head was pounding and when I looked into the mirror I was shocked to see that I appeared so white that I looked dead. As I pulled back my hair to wash my face, I saw the vibrant red bite marks on my neck that I had drawn on with a lip pencil. They were not even smeared and looked even redder then the night before. I reached up to rub them off and was horrified to feel the indents. These were not drawn on, these were real, what the hell happened last night at that party. As realization slowly slipped into my mind I heard my boyfriend open the bathroom door. All thoughts fled from my mind except for one, how good his blood smelled and I hoped he would not mind if I had a little taste.