The Singing Bones

She felt cold, gritty asphalt under her cheek and moved her head slightly to look around. She must have passed out. She was lying amongst bones, gleaming white in the moonlight. Some skeletons still had clinging tattered pieces of hair and skin. The odor wasn’t bad; faintly sweet and spicy. She wondered if it was safe to stand. Who brought her here? She stood up, and the first thing she noticed was she only had two legs. She lurched precariously, but caught herself before she tumbled. What happened to my legs? Her legs were hairless and she had human arms and hands instead of her forelegs. She touched her face and marveled at how flat and small it was. She felt she was missing huge chunks of herself, and she looked around warily for the missing pieces. How insignificant she felt. She touched her forehead and cried out. Her horn was gone! She looked more closely at the bones and recognized them; the large skulls and horns, familiar shapes of ribcages and legs. She narrowed her eyes and saw families running together on green waving prairie grass. The bones were humming, and she recognized the song. These were her ancestors. She felt so weak and frail. She had no weapon or clothes. She opened her mouth to whinny and only a soft sigh escaped her throat and was lost in the wind. She didn’t know if she could make anything work. Was she in the future or the past?

There was an acidic chemical scent in the wind, but everything was faint and muted to her senses. It was either nightfall or the sun had finally died, for all was darkness and shadows. Only a horned moon glowed faint light and was cold comfort. A red machine on wheels screeched to a halt outside the gate near her. It was then she realized two things: she was trapped, and she was helpless. Surrounding her were tall black iron bars with one rusty chained gate. She was imprisoned with only the unicorns’ bones for company. She scooped up a nearby pearlescent horn and instantly felt ten times bigger, stronger. Meanwhile, the red machine opened up and a man darted quickly towards the gate. He deftly snapped the chain with a shining tool, and pushed. The gate didn’t budge. She moved away from the man and the gate, stepping high over the bones, and trying not to stumble. She clutched the horn in her hands, and turned back towards the man. He was muttering something, and pushed again. This time the gate gave way. He leapt gracefully over the bones like a dancer, and she marveled how one could move so beautifully in such an ugly body. She raised the horn uncertainly and closed her eyes. Is this a dream?

No, and we must move quickly. We don’t have much time.

She opened her eyes wide in shock. He was covering her with a long white cloak, and had already moved her out of the gate and into the red machine.

It’s called a 'car.'

She gasped and sucked in too much air and started coughing. Her coughing soon became strange hitchings and wails she couldn’t seem to control and salty water poured from her eyes.

Calm down, he soothed. You are going to hurt yourself.

He never once uttered a sound, she ‘heard’ him in her mind. Sound or talking wasn’t necessary here it seemed.

We are….different, he said hesitantly. Not all can communicate as we are doing. I will explain everything.

But why am I here? She thought painfully.

He quickly glanced at her as he maneuvered the car down winding black paths with tall flat mountains on either side. Don’t you know?! He moved his face nearer, and touched her head. Red was on his fingertips. You must have hit your head, are you in pain?

This whole body is in pain. Yours isn’t?

He smiled and shook his head. You are from Before, and this world needs you to set some things right. He touched her horn spot, and she felt a tingle. The horn she held gave a high trill. These two men will try to kill you.

In her mind's eye, she saw an old man in a worn coat with mud or blood surrounding his mouth, she saw only the dark shadow of the other.

He shrugged. We can never get a good look at that one..But we think he will try a bomb or some sort of explosive device. The future is fuzzy, you know.

Is this the future then?

No, he laughed. This is always Now.

Unicorn Girl by Lilykoi-Designs

Heavy Drops of Rain

The afternoon was aqueous and stifling. A heavy humidity. A heavy waiting. She wrote the words down carefully, slowly on an old college-ruled notebook leftover from classes. An abstract butterfly graced the cover, and the subjects of her classes had been written, then marked out and written three times. She was frugal. She worked on preparing breakfast-though it was mid-afternoon. Breakfast, for her, was always the first meal of the day no matter the time. She may have cereal or scrambled eggs in the middle of the night. Her thoughts were traveling in hypersonic speed.

She was developing a repugnance for the world. Everything an irritant, a bother, a mindless chore. Each day a dark wave crashing into her again and again and again. Each day the same, the same, the same. She heard that hell is repetition, and she believes it. She felt like screaming. The pressure building up like a slow cooker. The constant ebb and flow of the cicada drone outside was grating on her nerves.

Looking through the slanted slits of her window blinds, she saw the wind moving the trees. As she watched, the breeze picked up and the trees waved and danced for her. Nothing moved her. She smelled the waffles cooking, with the necessary touch of cinnamon she loved. She noticed the waffles turned out better if she left the room; left them alone to do their thing. She rubbed the tears from her eyes with two fingers, then took the bottom of her black t-shirt to wipe her eyes and nose just beginning to run. Sometimes pain and sadness remain no matter what you do. She watched her cream-colored cat begin to bathe itself. She knew if she touched her or extended her hand, the cat would begin to purr. She let the tears run down her face, and got up to take out the waffles. As she took the second batch of waffles from the machine, she heard the first heavy drops of rain hit the tin roof above her patio. The drops brightened her up considerably. With rain, the insects would stop the constant mindless droning. Rain would cool the heat of the day, soothe her mind. Unfortunately the rain stopped with no promise of more to come. The mercy of the rain hadn’t dried alone.

Dirty Deeds

The two boys had talked about starting a business for weeks. They’d sit in Mark’s tree house in his backyard and swat mosquitoes in the summer evening making their plans. Selling lemonade was discarded as was selling cookies, mowing lawns and babysitting. Neither one liked lemonade or knew how to bake. The hard work of mowing lawns in the summer heat did not appeal to either one of them. And both were too young to be babysitters. Both boys were 12. Mark was the leader, since he was born 5 months earlier then Alex. Two days ago, the boys were lying in the clubhouse amidst comic books, and candy wrappers discussing the future and the mysterious ways of making money. The new Robot Monkey 3 was coming out for their Elect-astic gaming systems, and birthdays and holidays were too far off for any serious gift giving. The game was $54.99, and both boys decided they just had to have it, or would be the laughingstocks of their entire 6th grade. They had talked to a few kids over the summer when meeting at the city pool, and everyone was talking about it and saying how they would be the first to buy. The boys needed to come up with something fast. Wafts of rock and roll drifted up from Mark’s Dad’s garage as he worked on his mustang. Fragments of AC/DC drifted up to the boys.
“Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap….” Mark sat up and looked at Alex. Both boys’ eyes widened and smiled. It was perfect.

Two days later, everything was ready. They had their sign made and brought out a little card table. Mark’s dad told them they better not mess it up, and they told him not to worry. After they set up, promptly at 8am, in the cool delicious morning. Both boys were smiling and wide awake. They lost some of their resolve though when cars slowed to read their sign, and most drivers laughed and shook their heads. Some people looked confused and looked at the boys warily. Most people seemed to think it was a big joke, and drove off laughing. The boys were discouraged. Their sign simply read: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap. They thought it was genius, and even had matching blue collared shirts and blue hats, like mechanics. They felt very optimistic and professional. They set up their sign, and organized their price sheets-which consisted of their services and prices neatly printed in pencil by Alex on sheets of notebook paper. Alex didn’t want to use pencil, and he frowned at how weak their price sheets looked-but Mark insisted pencil was necessary in case they needed to change their prices on the fly. Alex wanted to run home and get a pen to at least print the services darker and bolder, but by then, they received their first customer.

Their first customer arrived, and Alex was annoyed at not being able to bold their services in ink. He was further annoyed when he saw it who it was. James, a creepy kid from the next block was riding his bike and stopped when he saw the boys. He read the sign, and smiled at the kids encouragingly.

“Cool idea,” he said. “What’s that?

“That’s our price list.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure!”

James was 14; one of the ‘Big Kids’, and though creepy, one to be admired and respected-always. Mark did all the talking, and Alex tried to smile and nod most professionally. James laughed at some of the deeds, and he pointed at #4 and said, “I like this one. Ha ha”

“Okay,” Mark said business-like. “That will be $5. Just tell us who you want to scare...”

“No,” James cut in, “I didn’t say I want that one, I just said ‘I like it.’ You see, I have a little sister that I want to get rid of.”

Alex gulped, “Scare her?”

“No,” James said impatiently, “get RID of, see?”

The boys looked at each other, and Alex whispered to Mark. Kill? And Mark nodded. Mark smiled at James, and winked at Alex.

“Now aren’t you glad you brought your pencil? Now let’s talk prices.”

Pinkerton

I discovered the story among the old yellowed pages of newsprint I was using to wrap up my remaining dishes and mugs; ‘Homeless Man Saves Flamingo.’ The faded photo was of a man in his seventies with an old Stetson tilted on his head, and the unmistakable head of a flamingo resting on his shoulder. The caption simply read: Charles and Pinkerton. I remembered the story. Three years ago, a local homeless man came across a flamingo which had both its legs amputated at the knee joints. The man, Charles Toskovich, adopted the bird and named him Pinkerton. The story kept me glued to the pages, and for a short while I was able to forget the upcoming move back to my parents, the selling of my house, and my recent divorce. Charles and Pinkerton were local celebrities in southern Florida two years ago. I remembered they would appear on local talk shows and news reports. Everyone was so tickled at the idea of a homeless man having a pet legless flamingo. Several of the townspeople had even chipped in and hired an engineer to design a sort of harness with crutches attached for the bird. No one thought it would work, but it did. Pinkerton was fitted with two or three different harness crutches before the design was perfected. I remember laughing and struggling to keep from spitting out my coffee as Pinkerton ran across the sound stage on a local TV morning show. Everyone laughed, but never in a mean way. Pinkerton had a way of filling everyone he met with wonder and joy.

Could those two still be around? Though Bonita Springs was only a short drive from Naples, I never visited. The city of Bonita Springs was pristine and picture perfect. The houses like plastic Barbie dream homes. I thought the town probably invented Charles Toskovich and Pinkerton the Legless Flamingo to give it some flavor. Since Bonita Springs was on the way to my parents’ home in Fort Myers, I decided this time to stop and see what I could see in Bonita Springs.

I was dreading the move like learning I was going to have to live with a debilitating disease the rest of my life, and decided to take the drive nice and slow. “This is only temporary like everything else,” I told myself. An hour into my drive, and too soon for comfort I saw the Bonita Springs City Limit sign in the distance. This soon passed and I was at a corner Mobil station to fuel up and ask for directions. I kept it simple.

“Charles and Pinkerton?”

The greasy middle-age man manning the register and pumps nodded towards the gulf.

“Pinkerton passed a little over a year ago, and Charles, if you find him, will either be at the beach near where he first found him or at Stan’s Shoe Repair Shop.” At my confused look, he continued. “They let him sleep in the back of the shop sometimes when the weather gets bad.”

My resolve diminished. I wanted to see the legless bird move like the wind on his crutches. But I missed it, like I feel I miss everything in life. I contemplated just forgetting about Charles and Pinkerton, but I came this far. Besides, I was homeless too. I decided to try the beach as the first place to look. Luckily it was also my last. Charles was there, still wearing his signature Stetson tilted at an angle. He was holding Pinkerton’s crutches on his lap and was bringing a small flask to his lips. I suspected the flask had been empty for some time. His movements seemed automatic and dreamlike as he stared into the ocean. Upon closer inspection Charles looked closer to eighty or ninety and had dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t acknowledge my presence until I spoke.

“If I woulda planned a little better, I woulda brought you something to drink.” I said pointing at the flask.

Charles quickly glanced at me and just as quickly away. “I gave up drinking when I found Pinkerton,” he said.

“Tell me what happened?”

Charles shrugged and seemed to hug himself. He opened his mouth then closed it. “He just flew away.”

“The man at the Exxon said he died.”

“No!” Charles shouted and his cheeks turned red. “No one knows that for sure! Pinkerton just left, and I’m hoping someday he’ll be back.”

“How long has it been?”

“Fourteen months and eleven days.”

“Well, maybe he finally got back on his migration path. You know flamingoes…”

But he cut in. “No! Pinkerton was different. He was my friend.” His chin trembled, and he brought the empty flask to his lips again.

I wanted to tell him there was no sense in waiting for something that may or may not come. Pinkerton probably was dead. Without his crutches, how did he stand to feed? But I had no right to dash the hopes of another. Charles was jingling something on the harness of the crutches. A little pocket?

“What’s that?”

“Oh! These crutches are fancy!” Charles chortled. “They have belts, pockets, bells and whistles!” He laughed loudly for a good two minutes. But he showed me what was inside.The pocket was filled with dimes all bright and shiny, some dating from the 1890s.

“Wow! Some of these are really rare! Where did you find these?”

Charles gave me a smug look. “These aren’t mine. These are Pinkerton’s. He found these. He loves dimes!”

I shook my head. “That’s ridiculous, even if I believed Pinkerton liked dimes, how on earth did he find so many and some so valuable?”

Charles gave me a long pondering look, before turning to gaze out into the ocean once more. He said, “The same way we find any treasure; through luck and perseverance.”

I settled more comfortably on the sand dune, locked my hands behind my head and waited for Pinkerton to come home.

Darkness Depart

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning.”

“I don’t know where the beginning is!”

“How did this all happen?”

“I’m very naïve…”

Here, he put his pen down and looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

“Just the facts, ma’am.”

“I met him over the internet. He was very charming, and seemed to have a lot in common with me.”

“His name?”

“Henry Thomas...but I found out later that wasn’t his name. Nothing was as it seemed.” Here, she laughed shakily and shivered.

The officer looked up at her and the blue and red siren lights washed his face over and over as the strobe turned around and around. Red,Blue. Red, Blue. It was hypnotizing.

“Ma’am?”

She blinked and looked around. The blood, the feathers strewn everywhere. She hugged the blanket the medic gave her to her body and shivered again.

“I don’t think he was human,” she whispered.

“Ma’am please speak louder. Here!” He motioned a man in a white coat over and then whispered in his ear. The man nodded and turned back to the ambulance to get something.

Everything was in slow motion; she felt woozy and sat down hard upon the parking lot.

*

He had wanted to meet her in a darkened parking lot at the old abandoned theater. All her warning bells rang off, but he had said he was nervous around people. He was very shy. She had talked to him on the phone for hours and hours for almost three months before she agreed to meet him, and she had come armed with mace, her cell phone, and a knife. But she felt she was being foolish. She felt she knew him well. His voice was so soothing and sexy. His words seemed so full of love and truth. And she was so very lonely. Everything happened so fast...


The man in the white coat came back and handed her a small pill, and water in a Dixie cup. She took it without thinking what it was. The officer and the man whispered again, and she heard “in shock” and “bring in for observation.” She was too exhausted to care.

The officer flipped through his notebook. “Genevieve?”

She waved a hand. “Jenny. Please... everyone calls me Jenny.”

“Ms. Jenny it says that when you called 9-1-1 you reported you attacked a demon, a monster that escaped?”

She nodded. “Demon or angel. But I think it was a demon. He had horns.”

**

She had walked to the car he had described to her over the phone. It was this old sky-blue Dodge Charger. She saw a huddled shape inside and paused a safe distance away.

“Henry?” She called out, a little annoyed at how scared she sounded. She cleared her throat and called out louder: “Henry?!”

“I am here.”

And his voice! She nearly swooned. His soothing, beautiful voice was like music to her ears. That sounds so cliché but it was. It sounded so much purer and melodic than over the phone. She recognized his voice. All her worries erased. She stepped closer and saw he was deformed, as he seemed to have a large hump on his back, and he was keeping his body and face twisted away from her.

“Oh, Henry!” She breathed softly. “It’s okay,” she assured. “ I don’t care what you look like. Please let me see your face.”

“You really don’t care?” His voice rang with hope, and her heart melted.

“Oh, honey of course not. I love you. Please, let me see you.”

He turned then, and the rest was a blur. She saw horns, and her eyes widened. Horns that were huge and curling like on a bighorn sheep. She didn’t realize she was screaming until he was saying: “No,” and “Please stop!” And HE WAS STEPPING OUT OF THE CAR!

She couldn’t seem to stop screaming, and without thinking she pulled out her knife. Then she saw the wings; Huge, black wings that seemed to cover the sky. She fell to the ground and blacked out. She doesn’t remember attacking Henry, but she must have as there was blood all around; Blood and feathers, and not a scratch on her. He had left the car behind, so he must have flown away.

She looked at the sky then, and told the officer. “He must have flown away.”

A different officer came back with a wallet from the car. “The car is registered to a Billy Rodriguez, is this the..er..man you saw ma’am?”

She glanced at the I.D but knew without looking it couldn’t be him. There are no pictures of him. She shook her head. She looked at each of them then. “I know you think I am crazy, but look at these feathers! Look at the blood!”

Officer number two who had gone to his patrol car to speak to dispatch and who was the officer that checked the car for I.D, now ran excitedly from his patrol car to officer number one. He whispered in his ear, and officer number one pulled out the handcuffs. “Ms. Jenny I’m afraid I’m going to have to bring you down to the station, Billy Rodriguez has been found dead.”

Jenny shook her head. “But of course he has. Darkness cometh and darkness depart.”

“What was that?”

“Something my Grandmother used to say: ‘Darkness cometh and darkness depart.’ She danced with demons too.”

Paint Me With Laughter

Lost time is never found again~Benjamin Franklin

“What a sweet little boy,” I said to the tow headed child with big blue eyes. I was visiting my friend Shannon for the first time in years, and was immediately drawn to her son Caleb. He reached out his little arms and I scooped him up.

“How old is he?” I asked hugging him close.

“Two...no three. He’s just turned three…Ha ha.Things have been hectic around here. I’m lucky I can remember to eat!”

“Oh, he’s beautiful!”

Suddenly the child pushed himself up in my arms and buried his face in my hair. He rubbed his mouth back and forth quickly on the top of my head.

“Uh…What’s he doing?” I asked, a bit nervously.

Oh, he’s feeling your ‘happy.’ That is what he calls it. He does that with just about everyone. Kinda weird huh?

“No…it’s sweet!” Very weird. “Glad I washed my hair! “

Caleb stopped rubbing his face in my hair and looked at me. His look was very solemn, and he spoke clearly.

“Your happy is broken.”

The effect his words had on me was unexpected. I immediately put him down and walked away, arms across my chest.

“Lynette? You okay?”

“He said my happy was broken.” And then I started to cry.

Oh, Hon, what’s wrong? He’s three…what does he know?

It’s true though.” I said and took a deep breath. “Something is wrong with me. I feel broken somehow. Lost. Lonely. I feel displaced here. I can’t seem to feel anything anymore, or let anyone in.”

“Well, hon your divorce…it’s only been a year, or not even?”

“It will be a year in February. I have not heard his voice or seen his face in over a year. I don’t know how to let go. I don’t know how to get past the pain and start healing.” I buried my face in my hands and cried.

“I feel…” I said when I could catch my breath again. “I feel there is this pain in my heart, this dark ache that will never heal. Sometimes I feel I am just waiting to die.” I laughed a little shakily. ”Perhaps this wasn’t the best time for a visit.”

“No, No...” my friend was holding me I realized, and that I had wet her blouse with my tears. “We love you. We are glad you came. You can come to us for anything.”

‘Us,’ referred to her and her husband Chris. We had all been friends since college, some 15 years past. Chris was at work, and Shannon stayed home and took care of Caleb. Caleb was now tugging at his mother’s jeans. Shannon bent down, “What honey?” Caleb waved her closer whispering. Shannon sighed and leaned closer, and Caleb cupped his little hand to her ear and whispered-all the while looking at me. I smiled at him and dried my tears. I walked to the window, and looked out. The apartment was on the second floor above a daycare. The window overlooked the playground and I could see the children playing. I could hear their laughter. If only I could feel it!

I then felt a gentle pull on my hand and looked down. It was Caleb. He beamed up at me, his pale blue eyes shining.

“He wants you to go outside with him. To play.” Shannon smiled apologetically, and shrugged. A silent: It’s up to you. “He said something about you needing to be ‘painted with laughter.’ “

I smiled. Painted with laughter? I wonder if he knows I am an artist? “That sounds like exactly what I need! Lead the way Caleb!”

Once outside, Caleb led me to the center of the playing children. Curiously, the children paid neither of us any mind. Perhaps they were used to Caleb and his strange ways.

The children played around us, running and laughing, and I wished I had my camera. The playground was lit in full sun, and the children were all dressed how we should all be dressed-in fun colors and prints and designs. Caleb tilted his head back and closed his eyes. I did the same.

The sun shown through my lids, so I saw downy pink. I heard the children laughing and screaming in delight over their games. I felt the warmth of the sun, and then I felt it. Like butterfly kisses, there were these tiny bursts of energy along my skin causing goose-flesh to break out. I felt like I was being tickled.

I felt warmth, and joy and love surrounding me. I heard Caleb start to giggle then laugh, and I felt the overwhelming urge to do the same. We held hands and laughed together. The laughter painted me inside and out, and I realized there is so much beauty and joy in the world. It was time to let the darkness go.

I wonder what my happy looks like now.

The Doll

Mildred didn’t want to get out of bed. The morning was freezing, and she could see frost on her windows. The weak morning light filtered in with a depressing blue glow she shut her eyes tightly against. She counted the months and days in her head. It was one year, one month and 16 days since her husband had passed away. Tears welled in her eyes. Oh, Evan. I miss you so. She opened her eyes a slit, and glanced at his side of the bed. Nope, still gone. She only sees him in dreams now, and she contemplates trying this. But no. She flings back the covers suddenly, violently-but then she lies back down.

No, No, it’s time to get up. I must see the sunrise.

It became a habit for her, maybe an obsession. She had to see the sunrise each morning. The golden sun rising and lighting the sky from deep purple, to pinks, oranges, gold and pale blue. This was one thing she could count on, and she didn’t want to miss it. She sat up slowly and put on the green fuzzy slippers Evan had bought her years ago. The slippers were fading, and the holes had been stitched with care by her. She knew she would have to let them go soon, but not today. She put on her pink robe, the one she had found at the Salvation Army for 50 cents that was too short in the sleeves. But she loved it. It was perfect for her-the too short sleeves- as she often accidentally dipped her sleeves in her tea or soup or dishwater. She had her morning tea with honey and lemon and thought of her Grandmother and all the people that have passed from her life. She couldn’t wait to see them again.

The sky was lightening, so she hurriedly put on her walking shoes and coat and set out. The morning was chilly, but not as cold as she thought. She blew her breath and could just see it. It was tolerable. She glanced to the East; the sun was barely peaking over the rooftops in the distance. She could hear the morning traffic as she began to walk the familiar route along her neighborhood. Stanly the neighbor’s terrier eagerly accompanied her for a few houses down, then turned and trotted back glancing at her once and giving her a huff. He sensed her mood she imagined, plus she forgot his treat. Silly little dog.

Everyone’s city ordained garbage can was out on the curb with the metal bar facing the street for easier access for the robotic arm on the new expensive garbage trucks her city was now using. She tried to make a mental note to remember to set her garbage out when she got back, but let the thought fade. Now that she was alone, it seemed to take forever for her to fill that giant trash can the city gave to each household. On trash days, she would sometimes find furniture, clothes or toys laid out on top for those that drive by looking for free goodies. She sometimes felt sad for these unwanted objects being thrown away. There is so much waste in the world.

The clouds were turning pink now with golden-orange lining and she sighed. She felt at peace. The sky was so beautiful she stared up at it for several steps and almost tripped. She looked down and saw a doll in her path. She picked it up. Her immediate reaction was:
Wow, she’s beautiful!

The doll was made of porcelain, and had dark brown ringlets framing her face. Her eyes seemed so lifelike, they shined. Must be glass, she thought. She looked to the nearest house. It was the Ramirez’s pink stucco house nearby, and she walked up the walkway and rang the door. Doris Ramirez answered the door and gave Mildred a smile, but then saw the doll. Her eyes widened and she made a shooing gesture with her hands. Mildred held the doll up, and began,” I found this on the sidewalk...” but Doris had started to close the door speaking in Spanish. Mildred knew very little Spanish but she understood: “No! No! Tírelo! Tírelo!” Throw it out!

It was obvious to Mildred Mrs. Ramirez didn’t want the doll. In fact, Mrs. Ramirez seemed terrified of the doll. Mildred thought she had even heard her say: El Diablo. The Devil? Mildred looked down at the precious doll and decided to take her home.

Once back in her kitchen, she set the doll down at the table and gave her a good look. The doll was an antique but in immaculate condition. Not a hair misplaced or a scratch on her fine pinkish skin. The doll was in perfect condition even though it had been in the elements who knew how long, and it was curious to find her warm-not cold at all. Mildred made a cup of tea and mused about the doll. All her nieces had grown up, and she herself only had a son that was grown and moved away. No grandchildren yet. She had always wanted a daughter, had even dreamed of her little face for so many years; A face that closely resembled the doll’s. She decided then and there to keep the doll for herself, and thought of a name for her. Bonnie? Pearl? Rose? Rose. Rose fit perfectly as the doll had rosy cheeks and her little taffeta and lace dress was a pinkish–rose hue with white lace fringe. She is like the morning sunrise! Mildred thought. The doll’s mouth was partly opened as if she might speak at any moment.

“What dear? Oh yes! What fun we will have together!”

Mildred laughed then dropped her tea cup. The shattering of the cup jarred her back to reality.

The Death of Mr. Faerie

What is that?! Sandra woke up on Sunday morning to find her cat had killed and dragged in another dead animal.
What in the world… She bent down to get a closer look at the mangled and winged body, and her eyes widened.
“George! Get in Here! Oh, my God!” She saw the face, and then saw the little shoes.
“George!”
Her husband rushed into the room, his face half-lathered in shaving cream.
“What?” What?! Where’s the fire?” He looked down at the body. “Benny got another one, huh? Ugh. What a mess!”
Sandra looked up at him. “No, honey. Look!” She pointed at the little face, at the shoes.
“Why that’s a strange looking bird! Or is it some sort of insect? Looks like a moth or butterfly with those wings.”
“Honey, it has a human face! It’s wearing clothes!”
“I don’t have my glasses on dear, but what you are saying is impossible. Calm down, let me throw it in the trash.”
“Just look!”
“Oh jeez.” George gave a big sigh. “Let me go get my glasses.”

He went back into the bathroom, and Sandra gave the creature another look and then glanced at her cat. Benny ignored her and was cleaning his bloodied paws. She felt she would be sick.
“You think I should call the police?” She said softly, mostly to herself.
George came back into the room now adorned with glasses and with the shaving cream gone. ”Hmm?”
“Oh, nothing…just look please. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
George looked, and then looked again. He turned pale and then took a deep breath. “It looks like its neck was broken,” he said softly. “And one of his, I mean its legs was torn off. He stood up suddenly and said. “I’m throwing this in the trash.”
Sandra was on the other side of the room holding her arms folded across her body.
‘But George, WHAT IS IT?!”
“It doesn’t matter what it was,” He stressed ‘was’. “It is dead now.”
“Do you think we should call the police?” Or the news, she almost added. But who wants the attention?
“Honey, if we call the police with the story that our cat dragged in some tiny little winged man, they will only call the men in the white coats. Or worse, they will take us seriously and call in scientists to investigate or the media.” Here he shivered. “No, it is best we destroy all evidence, and forget all this.”

Sandra looked at their cat. He was an orange half-feral tabby and looked a lot like that cat Morris from those old cat food commercials, except her cat was leaner and more solidly built-like a tank. She had found him in a nearby park. He was thin, but looked happy enough rolling around in the grass. She got it in her mind to rescue him though and brought him home. And he has proven to be the most unusual animal. He loved the rain and rolling in mud. He often would guard her while she slept. And though he has dragged in some unusual critters before, this absolutely took the cake. She didn’t know she even had crawfish in her yard, until he dragged one in with its pincers removed. She had thought he had brought in some alien or baby Cthulhu and the old ones had arrived. Sandra was highly imaginative. She could have blamed her imagination on Mr. Faerie-as she was now calling the strange creature-but her husband had seen it too. She suddenly felt very tired, and wanted to go lie down.
“You do what needs to be done dear.” She said to her husband, and then went into their bedroom to hopefully go back to sleep and pretend the whole matter was some strange nightmare.

George looked down at the little body. It was only the size of a sparrow, but had the wings of a butterfly. The wings were very long and thin and iridescent. He thought they were merely white, but at a different angle shone in a multitude of hues like a rainbow. The creatures face was like a human's, but twisted in such a tortured expression it was hard to make out the features. The hair was blond and cut short. The clothes were all bloodied and appeared to be made from plants. The neck was broken and the head hung limply when he lifted the creature from the carpet. There was a blood stain below him.
“Oh, damn,” he said softly and began to cry a little. “What is this?”

Sandra couldn’t fall back asleep. She thought of her cat instead of the creature. She once entertained the idea that her cat was some strange agent that protected her family from ghouls and beasties and things that go bump in the night. He had a strange, wise ancient look in his eyes. He never meowed. And she lost count of how many animals he has brought in-many unusual-that she couldn’t name. She still is not sure if that was a crawfish that time or not, or that strange lizard that one time, like a mini Komodo dragon. Plus, she has the most unusual dreams when he is around. He speaks to her in dreams, but she never can remember what message he is trying to convey. And when she would wake, he would be right there staring at her with knowing eyes.

Suddenly, she sat up in bed with a jolt. What if there are others? My goodness, how many of those things are out there?! She got out of bed, and rushed to find her husband. She found him outside just closing the lid on their garbage can outside. “George! George, what if there are more! What if they come looking for their friend?” She looked for Benny, and found him at the back sliding doors. He was staring outside, looking at something in the sky. Oh, I hope he is watching birds, she thought.

Angele & the Hunter

*

Angele ran into the night exalting in her new found animal strength. She felt alive and free for the first time in her life. Her spirit soared as she bounded over fallen logs and rocks as she ran further into the woods. She heard a wolf’s howl in the distance, and without thinking she gave an answering cry.

A deep lingering worry stopped her. There was something she needed to remember. At the far reaches of her mind fleeting thoughts of the human women she loved dearly; her family and the kind worried face of the hunter who pursued her then tried to help her. She felt uneasy and undecided of what she should do. Her thoughts were all muzzy and she couldn’t focus. She had a gnawing hunger and an urge to run and howl. She felt her muscles quiver yearning to be stretched and strained beyond endurance.

Suddenly, a black, very large, very shaggy wolf bounded out of the copse of tall trees in front of her and gave a loud bark in her direction. She cowered a bit, and edged sideways. The wolf perked up his ears and circled her slowly but not menacingly and she stood up curious. He seemed friendly or more curious then dangerous. They sniffed noses, and the other panted at her. He tilted his head back and howled then ran a few steps looking back at her. He hesitated.

Does he want me to join him?

Angele laughed but what came out were strange high pitched barks. She bounded after the great black wolf all thoughts of her mother and sisters and the kind hunter swept away.

**

When the white wolf that was really a young woman who became a wolf bounded away, Daniel Greystone could not move for the span of 10 minutes. He was able to move when he realized night had fallen and he heard wolves howling in the distance.

“Werewolves,” he whispered.

Werewolves!

He never in his life expected such a thing, or believed in such creatures. His Great Aunt from Romany told of such stories but he thought her addled and ignorant. He realized also he was shaking. He had about 2 miles to walk to his cottage. He was torn about notifying the nearby villages and gathering a hunting party or going after the she-wolf alone. She had seemed so confused and frightened. She was lost, he was sure of it.

Perhaps she doesn’t know what she is.

Also, her beauty had struck him. In human form she had long blond hair to her waist. The color was so light as to be almost white and it glowed with a luminescence. Her youth and slenderness struck him. She looked to be only 16 or 17 years of age and she seemed defenseless out here…well, that was before she changed into the howling beast he originally was pursuing.

He felt she would not hurt him. There was a gentleness to her-even in wolf form. He decided to return to his cottage and ponder his decision. He knew he was only bidding his time though. He had decided what to do within his heart as soon as he had seen her. He knew he was going to go after her alone. He knew he was going to try to help her. He only wanted to give his mind the chance to talk him out of it. He paused on his hurried walk back to the cottage and looked back into the black forest trees silhouetted against the purple evening sky.

What an amazing world!

He pondered shaking his head.

Amazing!

In the Deep

Maggie dozed while waiting for Thomas to return with his mother. Thomas was her only hope. He had found her lost and stranded on the rocky beach. Maggie did not know how she got there, or what had happened to her legs. Thomas had said his mother could understand the writing Maggie had scratched out in the sand. She had tried writing to him, when she discovered she had no voice.

Maggie thought of the young man; of his crystal blue eyes and blond hair tousled by the wind. If she hadn’t been in such a dire predicament…and she drifted off dreaming of his eyes and caresses. Warm caresses turned cold and she woke to find water almost to her chest. She was slipping into a shallow pool. In only a few minutes, the pool became much deeper with the incoming tide. She struggled to crawl out with her arms. Her tail slapped the water frantically. She gasped in a breath of air when she slipped and plunged fully into the ocean.



She gave a silent scream as salt water rushed into her lungs. The effect was immediate. Her throat closed off and she felt tingling warmth along her neck just below her ears. Water rushed in then out the sides of her neck. She could breathe! She felt a gentle motion below her ears and the pleasant sensation of water rushing in and out. She calmed down. Even though she could not remember who she was or how she came to be here, all fear of the water faded away.

She swam easily, rejoicing in the feel of water flowing over her body. Her muscles, her tail, every part of her body knew what to do. She did somersaults in the waves. Water flowed through her hair, causing her scalp to tingle. The water was cold, but delicious. She felt electrified. She swam far out into the depths, away from the rocky beach and poked her head above water looking back to where she had come.

She felt uneasy. While the ocean called to her, and she wanted to explore its depths, something held her back. She yearned to feed on the creatures of the deep and she reveled in her newfound beauty. Her flowing hair, and the water rushing through and caressing each strand, was thrilling. She only wanted to swim and savor the feeling. Still, she felt a tugging at her heart, and turned back.

She saw lanterns along the beach as Thomas and his mother searched for her. She longed to go to them. She was sure they were trying to help. She swam in close and caught the boy’s eyes. Maggie saw that his eyes were filled with concern and he waved his arms at her. His mother had also seen her, but she cried out, and dropped her lantern. The woman fell to her knees. Thomas didn’t notice, and he dashed forward into the surf calling out to Maggie.



Maggie turned and looked out at the endless ocean. In the moonlight it was beautiful with shining wavelets, like diamonds. She turned back to Thomas. His shouts, calling for her, created confusion in her heart. She looked back and forth, torn between sea and shore. At last she turned away. The ocean was calling to her, and its voice sang to her heart.

At the Fire: Tenbul & Lara

At the fire with Tenbul, Lara realized she was hungry again-but not for blood, for the stew the little man was preparing over the fire. The savory aromas of mutton and the herbs that Tenbul sprinkled into the concoction caused her stomach to rumble. She felt almost human. Tenbul, sensing something was different, glanced at her. And then his eyes widened and he dropped the spoon he was using into the small kettle and rushed to where she was at.

“You have color in your cheeks!” He exclaimed. He touched her cheek, and she closed his eyes. He smelled of herbs and the dust from the desert.

“Your cheek is warm!” He exclaimed again. “Maybe the curse wore off…” Here, he trailed off. He furrowed his brow, and shook his head answering his question.

“No, Raven is very strong. This is a trick somehow. “

“But I am hungry, I feel sore and tired. I feel like me again!” Lara laughed then. Maybe there was hope after all.

“May I have some of that stew?”

Tenbul backed away from her then, and sat back down to attend to the stew. He eyed her warily and a little sadly.

“I don’t think it is as simple as that. Maybe you won’t be a vampire at all times of the day or night. Maybe the queen allowed for a brief respite, or maybe there is a hole in the spell somehow.”

Lara wanted to argue, but she was too weary from the excitement of the day and she fell asleep before she could try any of his delicious smelling stew.

When Lara awoke, she found she was chained again-with thicker chains that she could not break. She wasn’t frightened this time, and assumed she had turned vampire again. She smelled blood and looked to see if Tenbul had left her a snack. What she saw caused her cold, still heart to freeze even more. She saw Tenbul sprawled nearby with a wound on his neck. He wasn’t moving.

“Oh no.” She whispered. “Oh no oh no oh no.” She tried to reach him but couldn’t.

How did he chain me then?

Lara put her face in her hands and wailed. She could not reach him to help. He must have crawled away after she attacked him-to get away from her. Lara felt that with extreme effort and concentration she could break even these chains on her-but she only slumped to the cavern floor. She stared at the hurt and maybe dead man. A part of her wanted to finish him off and see if any more delicious blood could be found in him. She could taste his blood in her mouth. Part of her felt disgusted and repelled at the thought.

Lara wailed again.

You will pay for this, you bitch. I will kill you.

The Meeting of the Queens

“How did you get in here?!”
Raven fumed and stood up from her throne, tossing back her black robes that glittered coldly of jewels.
“Never mind that.” Isabelle Loveling said. “Where are my daughters?”
Queen Raven gave a smug smile and sat back down, leaning back with a contented sigh.
Queen Loveling waited, but only silence from the Dark Queen. Then she noticed something glittering on the stone floor-something familiar. In one graceful motion, Isabelle scooped it up. It was one of her daughter’s rings, her daughter Magritte. She moved quickly to the seated queen and held the ring up.
“This is Magritte’s ring. Where is my daughter?”

Isabelle was calm, but her eyes were an ocean storm and darkening as the seconds passed.
Raven sat up, and looked a bit nervous. She glanced at her chamber door. How did she get in here? And where are my guards?
As if reading her mind, Loveling stated:
“They are indisposed at the moment. It is just you and I.”
Raven stood up and shouted:
“I can kill you in an instant! You and your sniveling daughters!”
Loveling moved closer still and looked her straight in the eyes.
“You can try,” she whispered. “But you will fail.”

“You won’t leave this castle alive!” Raven screamed.
“GUARDS!”
But Loveling had already fled to the beautiful stained glass window that depicted Raven as a young girl sniffing flowers. A window that always filled Isabelle Loveling with sadness-as it showed Raven was once innocent and pure of heart.
Raven waved both hands in the air and screamed again.
“GUARDS!!!”
The castle shimmered. Loveling’s sleeping spell was lifted. She knew she must leave quickly if she was going to leave at all. She tapped the glass with Magritte’s ring, and the window shattered. In the next instant, Loveling transformed into a great white egret and flew out the window.

“Noooo!”
Raven shouted behind her, and pointed at the departing Queen. Little Flames darted from her finger and towards the bird, but an unseen force at the window bounced the sparks back at Raven. She had to duck her head to keep from being incinerated.
“Archers!” she shouted, but knew it was futile.
The bird was already out of range, and disappearing quickly in the darkening twilight.
“My Queen!”
A guard finally entered her chamber door and hesitated at her fury. Raven stormed about her room.
“She can not find them in time. She won’t!” She mumbled to herself.
“My Queen?”
The guard seemed ready to flee at her anger. She noticed him then, and the one cowering behind.
“You are all fools!” She screamed.
She pointed, and incinerated both to ash. She did not feel any better.

Angele

Angele was running and she didn’t know why. She felt soft dewy grass against her belly and for a moment she was confused.
Why am I on the ground and where am I?
She next heard a shot at such close proximity she yelped and veered to the right. A bullet had struck a tree to her left, mere inches from her head, and bark flew and struck her nose. She was being pursued by someone who wanted her dead!
I must find a place to hide-to think.
Her thoughts were a whirlwind. She remembered lovely ladies and one dark and cruel.
Her family…someone wanting to harm her family?

And now she was running lost and in danger. Angele saw a clump of bushes near a stream and darted inside a crawlspace. The sky was dark as twilight set in, and night was falling fast. The small crawl space she had found was pitch dark already and she crawled in as far as she could, then edged herself around to face the path she had come on-hoping to see her pursuer. Angele heard the crunch of heavy boots trotting quickly through the forest. She shivered with fright and the sharp branches scratched her skin. She tried to keep still, but was too frightened.

Oh where am I?!
She looked down at herself then.
And why am I naked?!
She remembered.
That witch!
She hissed in a breath.
Queen Raven!
She tried to find a more comfortable position, as the crawlspace seemed to suddenly shrink. The hunter was upon her then, and she saw his boots. He paused at the clump of bushes she was hiding within, and Angele held her breath.

“What the…?!” A man’s gruff voice exclaimed.
And Angele found herself yanked out of the bushes by the hair. She screamed and tried to cover herself as best she could.
“Woman? What in the heavens are you doing here? And in such a state!? There is a wolf about!”
And he looked wildly around as if a wolf was about to attack. He had seen a white wolf appear from nowhere, and was frightened it would harm his livestock. He had barely given chase when he found the girl.

A wolf?
She looked around quickly as well. She was deeply frightened of wolves, any dog really, as she had been attacked by a dear pet once when she had tried to play with its pups. Angele had a tiny scar on her lip to remind her of that frightening day.
“I..I..” She shook her head,and her blond hair covered her face. She was too distraught and frightened to speak.
The man had already covered her with his wooly coat, and was leading her out of the forest. He had noticed her hair right away, as it was so pale as to be almost white. He almost mistook her for the wolf if not for the long strands peeping out from the bushes.
“You must be lost, and you look starved.”
She walked slowly with him, and then stopped. She turned to him, to ask where she was, but then she was on the floor again. She shook the coat off her body and let the forest wind blow through her fur.
This is glorious!
She tilted back her head and let out a long howl then bounded into the woods looking for dinner. The man wouldn’t hurt her. He smelled delicious, but he smelled like a friend.
When she had transformed, the hunter could only stand-staring down at her, his mouth agape. Before he knew it, she was gone.
Angele ran swiftly and surely feeling her strong body move at its whim.
I am a wolf!
She laughed silently and let her tongue loll out. Freedom was beautiful, and she had never felt so free, or so very alive.

Magritte

Maggie heard the sounds of the ocean. She kept her eyes closed, but she heard the rush and flow of waves and felt sandy rocks beneath her. I must be dreaming, she thought. I must have fainted from fright on the Queen’s chamber floor. She slowly opened her eyes and saw she was in fact on rocks in a little inlet of water near a great ocean. Half of her was submerged in the small pool. She couldn’t swim, but the water was very shallow and didn’t cause her much concern. Her circumstances were cause of concern though. She struggled to stand and with shock realized her legs were gone. Wha?! She looked down to where her legs had been and saw a huge fish tail instead. She might have admired this tail at another time or on a fish as it was quite lovely. The same shade of fiery red as her hair, but seemed to shimmer in a thousand different colors in the sunlight with a long flowing soft fin at the end.

When she struggled to stand she bent the tail the wrong way, and a shooting pain went up her spine. Maggie cried silently and flopped back down. I am a mermaid! What a cruel, cruel joke of that witch Queen! Magritte Loveling could not swim. She was in fact terrified of any large bodies of water ever since she had seen a dear friend of hers drown as a child. For a bit it was a struggle for her mother to even give her a bath! Maggie was not scared of the water as she once was, but she never learned to swim-and avoided oceans, lakes and rivers as much as possible. She examined herself as best she could for any other alterations.

Her face felt the same from what she could tell by touch and what she saw in the water reflections. Her hair was no longer bound, and hung flowing and free and waved in the sea breeze. She was naked she realized with embarrassment-or mostly. She had some sort of shell top that barely covered her breasts. The top was made from large clam shells in a pinkish and gold hue. Maggie slammed her fist against the rocks and tried to wail, but no sounds issued from her throat. What am I going to do? This is ridiculous! She was scared and shocked but also angry. Of her three sisters she was the one known for her temper, and goofy sense of humor. Oh, how she wished she could find something to laugh at now!

She looked around and saw the sun was setting and would be dark soon. She wanted to find shelter and get away from the ocean as she noticed the tide was coming in. She did not want to drown and die without ever seeing her sisters and mother or knowing what became of them. A nearby mountain was several yards away and might provide some shelter. She was going to attempt a wriggling crawl towards it when she heard singing nearby. The breezes carried snatches of song to her, and she scanned the shoreline hoping to see someone. There! In the distance she saw a slender figure walking towards her. She could barely make out a boy or young man really carrying a long pole and skipping along the shoreline. He did not see her, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t as she was half hidden in the little pool of water behind some rocks. She waved her arms wildly and tried to shout, but seemed to have lost her voice. I am only frightened, she thought. Calm down! She opened her mouth to yell at him again, but nothing would come out. He was passing her! She struggled to crawl out of the pool and into a better position for him to see her, and she watched him intently willing him to turn his head. If he would only turn his head! The young man tripped then and in catching himself, he turned his head and finally saw her. He gave a little half wave to her and ran over to assist her. She sank back down with relief. But when he realized she wasn’t human his steps slowed and he kept a fair distance to her, staring at her-his mouth hanging wide. “Oh, it’s not all that bad”, she wanted to say, but no words would come out. She shook her head wildly, angrily instead and he backed away even further. Calm down Mags! Calm down, she coached herself. You are scaring the boy. He may be your only help!

She calmed down and waved a hand at him to beckon him closer. He stared and shook his own head. She pleaded with him with her hands and eyes. Dear lord, what do my eyes look like? She wondered, Fishy eyes? He stepped a little closer. She pointed to herself and shook her head. She waved her arms all around her, pointed to herself and shook her head again. Curious, the boy stepped closer, and Maggie realized he was about her age and quite handsome. He had blond unruly hair that danced in the wind and his skin was tan as a bronze shield. Whoa. She thought. If she couldn’t talk she’d be speechless anyway. He was looking into her face then, and seemed to like what he saw as he gave her a shy smile.
“Please don’t kill me” he said then, “I’ve heard stories of your kind. But you seem in a bit of a predicament. If you behave, I’ll help you back into the ocean.”
“No!” She tried to scream, and she shook her head at him.
He must have seen the genuine terror in her eyes though, as he immediately held his hands up, and said gently “Okay, Okay. What is it you need?”
Maggie thought a moment, then held up a finger. Ah ha! She then scratched into a patch of sand: Im Maggie Im human.
The boy knelt to see what she had written, then immediately stood up. “I’m a sorry…er..miss…I can’t read figures like that. But wait!” He jumped up and beamed a huge smile at her. “My mum can! Be right back!”
And before Maggie could raise a hand to protest, the boy ran off leaping over rocks and puddles of water. He runs like the wind, she thought. She put her head wearily upon her arms and flopped her tail in the small pool. She could hear the ocean itching closer and closer, the waves getting louder and louder. She closed her eyes and prayed the boy and his mother would return soon.

The Meeting of Tenbul: Excerpt from Twilight Existence

After a flash of light and rushing noise that sounded like an ocean inside her head, Lara found herself on hard rocky ground that she stumbled and fell on. Ouch! She landed hard upon the rocks and scraped her hands and knees trying to catch her fall. The first thing she noticed, besides her strange surroundings, was that she was in excruciating pain. She felt as if she was on fire. She screamed and jumped up wildly. She looked at herself expecting flames to be leaping up all over her. She did see wispy smoke streams rising but didn’t appear to be aflame. In the next moment, she realized that when the sun touched her flesh, her skin would instantly turn red then start to blister and smoke. She covered herself as best she could with her simple dress and thin cloak and looked around quickly for shelter. She had found herself in this strange new place for less then 10 seconds, but she determined this most certainly was Hell. Lara made the mistake of looking up into the sky for she instantly went blind. She stumbled to her knees in fear and shock and let out a thin tortured wail. I am going to die here, she thought, if I’m not dead already.

A shadow fell over her then-she knew as the pain lessened. She hoped it was a cloud or that night had fallen. Maybe I can survive this, she thought. She felt something heavy and soft thrown atop her, and startled she struggled to her feet-but only stumbled and fell again. My God, she cried. Please help me. No tears sprung from her eyes in her anguish and curious at this, she stopped struggling. It was then she realized that someone was speaking to her.

“Please stop moving little one.” A low calm voice said to her. “You are badly hurt. I’m trying to help you.” It was a man’s voice, but the gentleness of it calmed her and she rested against the stone ground under the soft musty blanket he had thrown on her. For a moment all was peaceful and dark and warm. She promptly passed out.

Lara awoke to find herself in a little cave. She felt heavy and with despair realized she was heavily chained. She felt some comfort though as she was bandaged with a cooling ointment covering the burned spots on her skin. Her mood improved considerably also, for she found she could see again. She felt strong and alert, and even though she was heavily chained, she stood up easily and found the chains to be as light as feathers. , Why, they aren't heavy at all! She thought, I wonder why I thought so? She could easily pull them from the cave walls she was chained to and walk around, but she didn’t want to upset her rescuer if his weak attempt at binding her was destroyed. She decided to sit back down and wait to see what would happen next.

She could see she was in a small chamber of the cave that only occupied herself and three cold stone walls that looked out into a larger chamber. She could see a small fire burning cheerfully in the next chamber but nothing else. A small beetle was crawling on the uneven stone floor and without thinking, she grabbed it and popped it into her mouth. She crunched into it once, and realizing what she did, spit it out with a little cry of disgust. Why would I do that?! She realized she was extremely hungry and thirsty and hoped the man who rescued her would come back soon. Her ears pricked up as she heard a distant shuffle and listened intently for the source. It was the little man, and he was approximately a half mile from the cave, laboring as if he was carrying something. As soon as Lara determined this, her eyes widened-as she had never had such good hearing before and was amazed at this new ability. She listening carefully and aside from the crackling of the little fire, she heard a tiny trickling of water nearby and the scurrying of many beetles elsewhere in the cave. She stood up again, and again was undecided about breaking her chains. She was very hungry, and even though the man was nearby, she didn’t think she could wait. She growled with hunger, and instantly stopped herself and sat back down. 'What is wrong with me?!' She put her head in her hands, and tried to calm herself down. Deep breathes Lara. Deep breaths. She picked her head immediately when she realized she hadn’t been breathing. Listening carefully, she didn’t even hear her heart. She closed her mouth and nose, but found she didn’t need to breathe. I am dead! She thought and then: Calm down you silly fool, if you were dead you wouldn’t be so hungry. She had a lot of questions for the little man who rescued her, and with extreme effort and concentration, she kept herself calm for his return.

Concentrating so hard on not ripping off her chains and running in search of food and drink, she almost didn’t notice the man. She felt his presence and looked up to see a little man of about 5 ft tall and heavily cloaked in what looked like three or four different robes of different colors. He was bearded, and carrying a bucket. He was looking in at her from the outer chamber and she was surprised to see he seemed afraid of her. She opened her mouth to ask who he was and why he would chain her and the extreme loudness of her voice frightened her into silence. She meant to talk normally but it was as if a thousand banshees poured from her throat. The little man cringed and ducked his head as if she had thrown her shoe at him. He then approached her slowly, and in his low calming voice said. “I’m surprised you didn’t break those chains.” She decided to try whispering, and she said: “I think I can, but I thought that would be terribly rude.” Then, “THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME!” She couldn’t help blurting out. The man stumbled to his knees, holding his hands to his ears. The bucket he was holding fell and toppled over. What flowed out steadily was something so sweet smelling and warm, that before Lara could think, she pulled off one chain in her attempt to grab it, and drank from it liberally. Then when that was all gone she crawled upon the cave floor lapping at any that had spilled. “Oh this is so delicious” she whispered shivering from the pleasure of it. “What is this?!”

The little man stood up and backed away from her. “That is blood child! My word, don’t you realize you are a vampire?!”

Lara instantly stopped and was still. Blood? But, she became ill at the mere thought or sight of blood. And she was drinking… She felt cold suddenly and before she could think another thought, had passed out again.

When she woke again, she found herself no longer chained and now covered in the heavy musty blanket again near the cheerful fire. The little man was there as well crouching as if to run, and it looked like he had some sort of weapon in his hand. “Please” she whispered, waving a hand at him. “Don’t be afraid. I think…” She choked on her words, and cried without tears again “I think I am more frightened then you are. And right now, I desperately need a friend.” She shook in a shaky breath she didn’t need to take, and said quietly controlling her booming voice much better. “My name is Lara Loveling, and I think Queen Raven has damned me to hell.”

At the name Raven, the little man cocked his head and stroked his beard absentmindedly. “Raven?!” She’s still alive? But she must be over 300 years old!”

Lara shrugged and shook her head. She didn’t know how old the evil witch queen was, nor care. She only wanted to be with her sisters and mother again, and have this strange affliction removed. The little man looked at her then with some interest, and stood up and brushed the dust off his dirty robes. Then to Lara’s embarrassment, he bowed as deeply as his small frame would allow. “Pleased to meet you Princess Lara, I am The Tenbul, the seer and magician, and will be of service to you in any way I can.” Lara couldn’t help but smile at the strange little man, and felt hopeful he could help her find her way back to herself as well as her dear family.