Brad Wilk
Max had better places to be than the parking lot at the Rainbow motel like home asleep, dribbling on his pillow. Mary, his twenty year old fiancée, was supposed to be part of the solution he thought, a warm body by his side, a wiz in the kitchen and as promised by Dr. Jack the best lover around. The woman was supposed to be loyal and not some flakey broad vanishing in the middle of the night. That wasn’t the deal, he screamed to himself; cheeks twitching in rage, eyes blood shot to hell. No freaking way! Not by a long shot.
Nearly tilting his red CRX on its side he screeched to a stop, almost clipping the bumper of a Ford Explorer parked to his right. Running on adrenaline, oblivious to his movements he yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed a tattered book bag from the back seat and pulled out a non registered .38. While curling a tooth pick above his lip, chewed and splintered he squinted at the chambers thinking how much heavier the gun seemed to be since he held it last then flipped off the safety. That’s a first, he thought, shaking his head, never did that before. Then, taking a deep breath, he shoved the cold steel into the waist of his weathered jeans behind his favorite silver belt buckle, a little handy down from good ol’ pop engraved with a bucking stallion.
Stepping out of the car, Max straightened up, slammed the door and pressed a little button on the side of a bulky, computer like watch strapped to his wrist. After a long, high pitched tone the watch flashed three times like a Morse code beacon and finally went silent and dark. Thank God for this Global Positioning feature, he thought, it’s a real life saver.
Strutting across the lot, looking side to side Max felt incredibly uneasy. Everything was way too still, he thought, to damn peaceful. He felt as if he were walking on a sheet of thin ice that would crack any moment and suck him down. Who would know? Who would care?
Like an orchestra tuning up he heard the mating calls of cicadas and wondered if maybe he should’ve stayed home, waited till morning and been more patient. Hell, he figured, when I hear those bastards singing again I’ll be forty then fifty-seven and then I’ll probably be dead. Will Mary be there in the end? Will she be by my side?
Then, emerging from the dingy hotel he noticed two young blonds, sexy as hell in tight, black mini skirts. As they walked past with their high heels clicking on the black top one nearly brushed his shoulder. He could smell her alluring perfume, sweet and fruity and felt a little twitch in his crotch, a sudden rise in his shaft. Looking back the girl gave Max a good look over, head to toe and batted her massacre thick eye lashes. He’s a keeper she told her friend, biting her polished pinky nail; love to see what he’s packing.
Max’s cheeks coiled from the smell of cat piss when he entered the hotel lobby. Of all the damn odors, he thought, that’s the worst, even nastier then those Arab or Indian delis. On the side of the front desk he saw a silver looking bell which he slammed his palm over. It sent out a short ping. Behind the desk he saw black and blue beads covering a doorway that he figured led to a shabby little apartment; one of those white trash holes complete with rabbit ears on the Television, candy wrappers everywhere and a shit load of beer cans crushed and empty scattered about the floor.
That’s where that damn stench is coming from he thought. Damn slob probably goes days wearing the same ripped underwear. Well, he reasoned, pinching his ear lobe, I’ve done that too.
Intently, Max leaned over the desk, eyes glued to the doorway, desperate for someone, anyone to emerge. He had to know where Mary was. He had to know now. “Is anyone there?” he yelled, slamming the bell like some fire button on Space Invaders. “A little help out here please. Hello, anybody in there? Hello.”
Rattling the beads, a hairy hand holding a cigarette finally sprang out. Soon after, a sloppy, unshaven man in his late thirties followed. Strands of black, greasy hair were combed forward on his ramped forehead like some ancient Roman’s. His faded, blue robe was covered in white cat dander with a rolled up Racing Form about to fall out of the side pocket. In a passing flash the man’s three chins reminded Max of steps leading down to his basement, a little home within his home that he desperately wanted to return to but not without his Mary.
From behind his ear the man pulled out a pen, opened a ledger that spanned the length of the short front desk and cleared his throat.
“Are you looking to stay the night?” he asked, rubbing his bristled chin, refusing to look up. He took Max’s silence as a ‘no’.
“Well, we have hourly rates too, if that’s what you’re looking for.” He pulled off a drag, blowing it to the side than met Max’s eyes. “So what’s it going to be pal. You want a room or not?”
His breath was some deadly combo of coffee, cigarettes and spam. Leaning in, taking the rancid odor head on Max yanked out a wallet sized photo from his back pocket and flashed it before the man’s blood shot eyes.
“Pretty girl” the man said, pursing his thin, chapped lips. He looked a little to long for Max’s liking. “She with you?”
“Yea, she’s with me” barked Max, pulling the photo away, slipping it back into his pocket “Have you seen her?”
The man’s eyes twinkled as he gently tapped the ledger and searched the water stained ceiling. Covering his mouth with a fisted hand he forced out a weak cough, a little hint that nothing in the Rainbow Motel came for free - Especially information.
The man’s face suddenly turned a chalky pale and his eyes bulged as Max yanked him by the furry collar of his robe. He could see the fire in Max’s eyes, the desperation. He hated eyes like that. Eyes like that meant trouble Ð Dead trouble.
With all the characters coming and going at the Rainbow Motel he figured he knew who the suckers were but with Max he guessed fast ball and got a sharp, breaking curve right down the heart of the plate.
His lips quivered. “O.KÉ.O.KÉI’ll tell you where she is. Just let go of me.” Now freed from Max’s grip the man stepped back and finger combed his thin black hair in an attempt to restore whatever dignity he had left. “Jesus. You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve told you man. Just calm down. Chill out. O.K?”
Max had enough of the guy’s antics. He was steaming inside and about to explode in a fit of rage if he didn’t get the answer he wanted. “Which room pal? I want to know now.” He pulled up his t-shirt, flashing the polished handle of his Smith and Wesson. “And I want the keys too.”
Nailed to a sheet rocked wall hung a wooden box by the side of the desk. With an eye on Max and the other on the box the man snatched room key 702 with a trembling hand.
“Here you go man. Just don’t do anything stupid. I’m trying to run a respectable hotel here you know.”
Max grabbed the keys. “Yes I’m sure you are pal. This place is five stars all the way”, he said with a pressed grin then headed towards the screen door and yanked it open.
Outside, Max made his way across a weathered green carpet that lined the front of the Rainbow hotel. What a scumbag he thought. Guys don’t get any shadier than that.
Firmly gripping the handle of his .38 he kept an eye on the descending room numbers; 720, 718, 716. He could hear his heart pounding in his head like a snare drum, making it almost impossible for him to think straight. His adrenaline was pumping fast now. His pace was quick, determined and tense. An urge to piss came over him but he held it back. What was going on in those rooms? He wondered. Were people fucking? Were they sleeping? So many secrets behind those doors. If only those walls could talk he thought. God only knows what they’d say about my Mary.
At room 702 he came to an abrupt stop then took a long breath, attempting to calm himself for what he was about to see. Maybe she was just sleeping he reasoned. Or maybe this was some sort of surprise, a little sex party to break up the routine. Wouldn’t that be great? Stay optimistic he told himself. Keep the faith. Mary never cheated before so why should she now?
Feeling as if he were jumping off a ten foot diving board Max finally inserted the key and in one fluid motion turned the lock and threw open the door. After all, doors were meant to be opened. Right? Sure they were. Opened and closed.
Suddenly, Max’s stomach felt as if it were struck with a wicked case of food poisoning. It churned from what he saw. The urge to vomit crawled up his throat. A horrid tasting vile seeped into his mouth. Bending over he grabbed his stomach and in small convulsions began to dry heave, spitting what he could onto the ash stained carpet of room 702.
Kneeling on the queen sized bed Dr. Jack threw a smile down at Max as he pumped Mary from behind in slow, undisturbed thrusts. His hands, firmly gripped around her narrow waist bought her close as he buried every inch of himself inside. Oblivious to Max’s presence Mary moaned uncontrollably while she pushed the head board for leverage. She begged for more, pleading in loud cries for the good doctor to go faster, to give everything he had.
“Max, so nice of you to join us” said Dr. Jack, staring at him with a victory grin. A physical specimen, Dr. Jack had a grey pony tail that bald man would kill for. With every thrust into Mary it bounced off the small of his sweaty back. At sixty years old the handsome doctor was in better shape then men half his age; stronger, healthier, ten times more alive. When women remarked on his striking similarity to Sean Connery he would often say, “On the contrary my dear, the man looks like me”
Dr. Jack spanked Mary’s tight behind. “You like this?” he asked, “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes Doctor Yes. Please don’t stop.”
Cocking the trigger, Max trained his .38 on the doctor’s head. Uncontrollably, the gun shook in his trembling hand. From a crouched position by the door he tried to steady himself for a clear shot but his nerves were too jacked up.
One lousy pull of the trigger, he thought and this guy is history, completely out of your life. Do it, he told himself. Do it now!
Dr. Jack let out a barbaric growl, pulled Mary towards him and finished deep inside her. Purple veins exploding from his tanned forehead, the doctor exhaled an exaggerated sigh then pulled his slacks off the worn, grey carpet and casually slid them on. Completely ignoring Max, showing no concern for the gun trained on his back, Dr. Jack methodically moved towards the television, grabbed his white, silk shirt off the top of it and slowly put his arms through the sleeves. It was time to go. There was work to be done. Dr. Jack had pressing business.
“Max” he said, snapping his cuff links on, admiring himself in the mirror, “I thought we had a deal?”
Not getting a response Dr. Jack moved towards the bed where he admired Mary’s Barbie doll body entwined in a tan blanket and crumpled white sheet. Completely satisfied and utterly exhausted she was in a deep sleep sprawled across the bed like a falling sky diver. Dr. Jack soaked up every curve of her body, every inch of her delicious skin. Of all the ones, he thought, Mary was his favorite. You just can’t beat that feeling of tweaking that first one he figured, no matter how hard you try. It’s never the same.
Dr. Jack slid into his checkered Brooks Brothers sports coat and from the inside pocket pulled out a thin, metallic device covered in flat white buttons. Pointing it at Mary he lowered his thumb on the base of the controller causing a yellow light to flash at the tip. Suddenly, Mary began to violently thrash her arms and legs beneath the sheets as if she were experiencing the worst possible nightmare. Cold sweat ran down her forehead. Her arms and legs were completely stiff as she tried somehow to push them away from her body.
Dr. Jack pressed another button and in a jerk reflex, as if he were pulling strings on a puppet Mary sat straight up. She looked like a school girl begging to answer a question; back arched, firm breasts pointed towards the ceiling. She appeared so innocent, so na•ve, thought Max.
Pull the trigger, pull it now! This has to stop.
“Move away from her”, yelled Max, rising from his crouch, leveling the gun on the doctors head “Leave her alone”
De-activating the controller Dr. Jack calmly slipped it back in his coat pocket. Then, suddenly Mary collapsed to the bed as if she were dropped from a roof. Every ounce of energy was drained from her body. Her skin was a ghostly white and her swollen eyes, shut tight from the stress looked like prunes. It seemed as if she had taken a shower as her soaked blond hair fanned across the bed and dangled off the side.
Dr. Jack gathered his sliver Rolex and car keys off the night table. “Well, I think its time I get going” He acted like the gun was a toy, a harmless prop Max would never use.
Now standing before Max, Dr. Jack raised his manicured hand and with the magical touch of a snake charmer lowered the barrel of the gun. Max couldn’t resist. There was nothing he could do. He knew Dr. Jack had the upper hand. Without him Mary would be lost forever. All her memories would be erased, completely wiped out. My God, Max thought, she wouldn’t even know my name. Five years together and it would all be gone.
Standing by the opened door, adjusting the collar of his jacket Dr. Jack surveyed the drab hotel room “Well Max. I’ll be expecting your payment.” Defeated, Max’s hand went limp allowing the gun to fall to the floor. “And if I don’t receive the money by Friday”, added the doctor, “Mary will loose all memory Max. To her you will be a stranger. A pervert looking for a quick one”
Heading out the door Dr. Jack swiveled his head back and met Max’s eyes. “But have no fear my friend. When she awakes she’ll have no idea what happened here tonight. She’ll awake in a dazed state completely confused.” The doctor pursed his lips. “But if you miss your payment Max the deals off. I have a back load of customers that would love to lease Mary out. Rich customers too. Don’t disappoint me Max. Have the money in my hands by Friday.”
The good doctor climbed into a red 66’ Mustang and lowered his toned arm out the window. He loved these little visits. They were a wonderful perk to his job. Sometimes, he thought, it was necessary to take his woman on test drives and it seemed Mary was running on all cylinders.
Dr. Jack’s Mustang roared to life. The powerful V-8 sounded like a rumbling Sherman tank as he lowered his foot on the accelerator. Shifting, he reversed from his spot, threw the gear in drive and merged with the speeding traffic of the Interstate. The August wind blasting his face, Dr. Jack sparked a cigar feeling superbly pleased by his sexual performance with Mary. Sixty years old, he thought and still hopping like a rabbit.
Now, two hours later, at approximately 5 am Dr Jack turned off his blasting radio and merged onto Kennedy Boulevard, a long strip of road cutting through Jersey City. Cruising in first gear past Bodegas, liquor stores and boarded up store fronts he finally rolled to a stop and surveyed the selection of high heeled girls huddled on the corner.
That blond, he thought, still young and pretty. She’s perfect. Well not quite yet. Give me a week in the lab. Maybe two and then she’ll be ready. A lobotomy took some time. Tweaking was an art.
Karen R. Porter
Simple glass
used to be sand
turned fluid,
fashioned
into a comely shape
by fire and hands.
How many grains
make up a glass?
Does it remember
its lifeless life
before this change?
Was it smashed by
relentless waves
on a beach where
quartz transmutes?
Did it tear down
a mountain’s back,
sloughed off as mud
after a flood?
Does it know
it once reigned
inside the earth,
hard and safe?
And how long
after the shatter
til it goes home
agains transformed?
by Eric S. Brown
IncubusVane@aol.com
Deric and Sym sat under the shade of the apple tree in the backyard of Deric’s home. The summer afternoon was almost unbearably hot. Sym’s tattered Michael Jordan T-shirt was soaked with sweat and his skin glistened in the sunlight. He looked longingly at his bicycle parked a few feet away. Deric leaned against the tree’s trunk tossing an apple from hand to hand. A pile of comic books rested on the grass beside him.
“Is it really that fun?” Deric asked nodding towards the bike. Sym was five years older than Deric and fit in much better with the other boys in the neighborhood. His skin was tan from hours spent shooting hoops at the park and a sharp contrast to Deric’s almost deathly pale flesh.
“I could teach you,” Sym offered third time. In his way, he felt sorry for the younger boy. Deric rarely came outside his parent’s rich three floored home. He spent his time alone with books and could count all his friends on a single hand of fingers with room to spare.
“No thanks,” Deric said, picking up a comic book. “Have you read this one yet?” He offered the comic to Sym who waved it aside without looking at the cover.
“It’s great,” Deric pressed, “Revenger Robot gets stranded on Venus and has to survive until a rescue ship arrives. He. . .”
“Deric,” Sym interrupted, nudging the boy roughly with his elbow. “Look!”
Down below their perch on the hilltop, Deric’s neighbor, Amy, had come outside with her older sister, Maxine. Both were clad in very revealing bathing suits and looked ready to soak up some rays.
Deric was a bit put off that Sym could find such a scene interesting enough to postpone a conversation about his books. He sat the comic down and watched Sym watch Amy.
“You like her don’t you?” Deric asked.
“What?” Sym laughed nervously, “You’re losing it, Deric.”
Deric grinned but kept silent. Sym noticed his friend knows gaze. “Okay. So maybe I do. One day you’ll understand. I’m surprised you don’t already, you’re what about thirteen now?”
Deric disregarded the question. “So why don’t we go down and talk to her?” the younger boy suggested. “Maybe she’ll even play war with us again.”
Sym burst into laughter. “You don’t ask a girl like Amy to play war not when you’re my age anyhow. You know, she just played last time to be nice to you.”
“She seemed to have a good time. She killed you even more than I usually do. She was rather good at it.”
“Whatever,” Sym shrugged, his eyes still glued to the fawn eyed girl of his dreams.
Deric jumped up from where he sat, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Amy! Amy, do you want to come up for a while?”
Sym’s composure shattered like glass. He mopped at the sweat on his face in vain, trying to hide behind the tree as realized just how bad he must look. “What are you doing?” he hissed at Deric.
“You can thank me later,” Deric whispered back, a devilish grin stretching across his lips.
“Yeah, I’ll be right up!” Amy screamed excitedly. She snatched up her towel and darted into her house, leaving Maxine alone in the sun staring unhappily at the boys.
“Don’t you get my baby sister into trouble,” Maxine shouted at Deric. The look in her eyes as she said it spoke volumes. Even the adults thought Deric was strange.
“Oh, my God,” Sym muttered over and over to himself, “She’s coming.”
“Relax,” Deric said squatting beside his friend, “She’s only human.”
Sym didn’t seem to believe him.
In minutes, the trio had gathered in Deric’s room. The air-conditioning was pleasantly cool and Deric’s mom brought them iced tea, while they talked. Amy definitely wanted to play again and tonight’s game would be unlike any other. Amy and Deric talked about where to play as Sym nodded wildly with a blank look on his face whenever asked a question. The pair came up with a plan to of sneaking into Morning Star Forrest which touched Rhodes Cove Drive on its eastern side. None of their parents would approve but only Deric, being younger, needed help getting around that. He and Amy worked on contriving an appropiate excuse to get him away from home for the night.
Sym felt incredibly stupid listening to the two of them. Sometimes, they used big words he’d never heard before in his life as if they were just part of the normal conversation. He had known Deric was like that because the boy read all the time and did little else; however, this was a side of Amy he had never seen before. He was suddenly a bit jealous of his little “loser” friend.
As they left Deric obtained his parent’s permission to sleep over at Sym’s, and tagged along in their wake with a heavy backpack he couldn’t quite manage to carry properly in his arms.
As night fell, the trio entered the Forrest. When they were far enough inside to avoid being seen from the road, Deric collapsed on a rotted stump and began to rummage through his backpack. He produced a small tin and opened its lid. It contained a black gooish substance which appeared to be shoe polish but stunk horribly like spoiled meat. He thrust the tin at Sym and Amy. “Here, put this on. It’s nighttime camouflage.”
Amy staying in the spirit of the game grabbed the tin and smeared the stuff onto her face. When she was done, she offered the tin to Sym.
“No way,” he said catching a whiff of its odor.
“Come on, Sym. Don’t be a chicken,” Deric taunted.
Sym glared at the boy with a hatred as sharp as a razor. He took the tin and began smearing the crap onto his skin. He shoved the tin at Deric. “Your turn, genius,” he demanded.
“I don’t think so,” Deric giggled.
“Why not?” Amy asked as Sym exploded. “You little jerk! You got us to put this shit on. You’re going to, too!”
“You’ll have to catch me first,” Deric laughed, darting deeper into the Forrest, backpack and toy guns forgotten.
Amy and Sym chased after him. Sym’s taller, lanky legs covered a lot of ground with each stride but it seemed as if the forest itself was on Deric’s side. The boy disappeared into the growing darkness.
Sym stopped, panting, Amy at his side. “The little bastard’s too quick,” Sym gasped.
“Watch your language!” Amy snapped, “I’ll bet you were like that too when you were his age. He’s just playing.”
“I was never like that,” Sym raged and instantly regretted it. The way Amy’s lip trembled tore at his heart. He could see the tears forming in her eyes.
“It’s just a game to him, Sym. He didn’t mean any harm.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Sym offered in way of an apology. “Amy, I. . .”
Before Sym finish his sentence a sound howl pierced the night, inhuman and hungry. Somewhere in the trees, they heard a giggling voice. “He’s coming for you now. Nobody’s better than he is Amy. You’ll never beat him.”
Amy glanced at Sym, who appeared just as frightened and confused as she felt.
“What does he mean, Sym?” Amy asked.
To their right, tree limbs snapped and the forest moved as something rushed towards them. “Run!” Sym screamed, and they did as fast as they could go. For a moment, the sound gained on them, and then suddenly the forest fell silent. Amy and Sym scanned the trees for a sign of their pursuer but saw nothing.
“My lord, Sym! What the hell was that?” Amy shrieked.
“I don’t know. . .” Sym stammered, “I don’t . . . “
Amy watched as realization dawned on Sym’s face. “It can’t be,” Sym whispered in disbelief.
Once, almost a year ago, Sym and Deric had played war in this very forest. They gotten separated and Deric hadn’t been found until the next day. It put the whole community in an uproar and was the reason why parents were so keen on not letting their children of any age wander into these woods. When Deric had been found, he had been in coma. He lay in a hospital bed for three weeks while Sym sat at his side guilt stricken before Deric pulled out of it. He’d never told anyone about what had happened in the trees. No one except Sym. Sym hadn’t believed him then but he sure as hell was beginning to now.
“What? What is it?” Amy pleaded.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Sym answered. “We’ve got to make it back to the road as fast as we can.”
“Was it a bear?” Amy begged desperate for an answer.
“No!” Sym bellowed. “Run for the road!”
He started to run but then realized he had no idea which way was which. Amy laughed a nervous laugh. “You tell me where it’s at and I’ll be happy to.”
Deric swaggered out from the trees, his pale skin shining almost as brightly as his smile in the starlight. “He’s found you,” the boy giggled. A large creature over eight feet tall with muscle so powerful they bulged through its brown fur burst from the trees. It moved with the grace of an animal, loping towards Sym. Its yellow teeth gleamed. Sym snatched up a nearby branch swinging wildly at the creature. The thick branch struck the thing’s head dead on snapping in two from the force of the blow but it didn’t slow the creature at all. The thing knocked Sym to the ground, raking him with its claws. Blood flew as the creature tore his flesh in a mad frenzy.
Amy wailed helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Deric walked towards her ignoring the monster gnawing on Sym’s exposed bones.
“He would have found you even without the scent, Amy. He’s that good.”
Amy fell to her knees, her face in her hands.
“Nobody beats me at war, Amy. Nobody, because I have him.”
The demon-thing turned its eyes on Amy as Sym’s blood trickled down its chin through its matted fur.
“It’s my dad, Amy. My real dad,” Deric informed her, “and he’s still hungry.”
Amy managed to stumble to her feet. She turned to run but her world went black. The last thing she saw was a massive paw swinging at her face. Soon, the night was silent except for Deric’s happy laughter.
BIO
Eric S. Brown is the author of the paperbacks Dying Days, Space Stations and Graveyards, and Portals of Terror as well as the chapbooks Flashes of Death, Zombies the War Stories, Bad Mojo, Still Dead, and Dark Karma and the e-books Blood Rain and Poisoned Graves.Ê His short fiction has been published well over two hundred times in a wide array of markets from places like The Book of Dark Wisdom to Nocturnal Ooze magazine to Cyberpulp Books.Ê He is 29 years old and lives in NC with his wife Shanna.
Karen R. Porter
and here you are my disoriented angel
languidly spilled on the sofa cushions
contemplating the fungus
running riot on your fingernails
before those hands scrape
across the soft meat of your face
let me remind you of pat and how
fungus sprouted on his lips
after he played with his toes
when he was stoned
Roger D. Coleman
Point of view, a common term in writing-the story told in first person, third person, omniscient and many others. Let’s see the famous balcony scene, not from the omniscient P.O.V, but from Romeo’s, and then Juliet’s first person P.O.V.-followed by a gender confused couple.
Scene I, Verona, Balcony
Zounds, I need be brief. Juliette’s got such a short memory span.
But soft, what nettlesome nurse through yonder balcony breaks at most inopportune moment.
No levity now, chicks like it when men are. . . what’s the word. . . SENSITIVE.
“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou? Romeo?”
What an opening for me, a stroke of gadzooks. The ditsy dame knows I’m down here in the wet grass.
If I scramble up this grapevine. . . watch it- don’t want to stain my codpiece, (puff), (puff), damn thorns.
Remember~ exude sincerity. . . good place to deny I’m a Montague, if I’m to get that ripe cherry between the sheets.
An opening for vowing undying love on yonder stars. . . make that clouds—heart-shaped. . . no, no, the MOON. That silvers the treetops
Don’t lose her now. . . press the flesh.
Do the bird thing or glove on hand simile.
How about, loves labor longingly lost (alliteration too much for a balcony scene?)
Finish with couplet.
Don’t forget. . . SMILE.
Scene I (again, different point of view)
There’s that dolt down in the garden. . . got to hook him before he loses interest.
“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou? Romeo?”
He heard me. He’s looking up.
Reel him in. Try not to look aloof. . . or too eager
Maybe he’ll swear true love by the moon. . . a plot point.
Time to spring a couplet: “My bounty is as boundless as the sea; the more I give my pounding heart to thee.”
He’s falling for it. Give him the old fake ‘sincerity’ look.
Got him! Lean over the balcony, show him the cleavage.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow. Good night till it be morrow.”
Scene I (again)
I’ll act like I want her.
She knows I’m gay. I know she’s lesbian.
If we wed we’d make a great pair.
I could spend my time at “Ye Olde Homophilic Pub.”
She could consort with her ladies in waiting.
An attractive pair, doing our own thing. . . be accepted by the uptight homophobes. . . even the church.
Forsooth, God works in mysterious ways.
Fredrick Zydek
I was here
in two pieces.
Half of me
was naked.
The rest
fermented
like old wine.
I ate
two thin slices
of date bread
and left
unashamed.
Sharon M. White
The full moon held her gaze, held all of her really--still, quiet, unblinking-waiting--for what she didn’t know. The wind whipped up and blasted her trom every side, cold and unforgiving, scourging, searching and then died with a disorienting quickness. Hair flopped in disarray, clothes softly thumping back against her skin. Still she was riveted in place by the moon. Her connection to the moon had never been so strong, so real. In the stillness she could hear hounds across the hill, distant, foreboding. When she finally blinked her eyes stung and watered like mad. She suddenly felt surrounded, presences bearing down on her. Self-consciousness in the dark of her back yard was an alien feeling to her. Nevertheless here it was big as Life and twice as ugly, even though whatever or whoever was around her she couldn’t see. They were invisible and could be only her jazzed-up imagination. “And probably is,” she thought looking back up to the huge fairy-ringed full moon hanging in the velvet of the sky. Her long red-gold hair falling back trom an attractive face that she had lost all hope for over the last three years.
To get over the sudden bout of self-consciousness she smiled at the moon, closed her eyes and drew a deep breath of the damp air. She raised both hands to the sky and her beloved midnight moon and began to dance. At first it Was just a little weave and bob, hardly moving from her tracks. Then it was more abandoned as the self-consciousness faded away. ’Who cares ifsomeone is watching? Not the first time they’ve seen something weird here.’ She danced until everything melted away--swaying, stomping her feet in total abandon. She kicked off her shoes and relished the cool silken feel of the dew-kissed grass. She was mildly aware that she had never done anything like this out in the open, even if it was in the dark of her back yard but she had never felt better--or freer. That’s when it happened. That’s where it happened. And quite possibly that’s WHY it happened.
She laughed out loud until a sound made her stop in her tracks; arms still raised, sweat on her silvery brow, moon gleam in her eyes. “Yeeessss. We’re here.” Barely a whisper in the breeze. “Be still and you will be protected. We will help you child of Aradia.” The last vowel stretching out on and blowing away on the wind. Gooseflesh walked over her body as her arms dropped to her sides. The light from the faraway moon suddenly felt like a spotlight, she was nervous. No one was around; she could still hear the faint bass thump of her husband’s radio from the house.
There was a click and harsh maddening yellow light flared on the back porch. A rustle in the underbrush like retreating feet and then silence. She whirled first toward the door and then to the rustling behind her and back to the door. Her heart was thumped hard in her ears and throat.
’Damn him! Why in God’s name can’t I see one minute’s peace when he’s around? I think I hate him, I really do!’ (Did he see me dancing in the grass, oh gods. He was absorbed in that damned computer game trouble for sure wonder how I look he knows now he’s gonna start his mouth good thing kids are at mom’s) Strings of useless thoughts going through her head as he banged the back door open and bellowed out at her: “Woman! Get your ass in here! I have to ask you something!” He glared down at her; the set of his head and shoulders assured her there would indeed be trouble. She scurried like a frightened mouse in spite of herself and another thought bubbled up from her subconscious where it had been coiled, waiting for the right moment to strike out and hurt: ’I hate myself for acting this way more than I hate that big hulking bully in the house!’ Then she was up the back steps and in the kitchen. By then the radio was off, no distractions from his job, his Manly Duty as he called it.
As she stood on the rug inside the door looking at his back across the kitchen she remembered she had been barefoot. She had crammed her dirty feet into her shoes when he told her to come in, now she chanced a look at her feet-- wet grass stuck all over them. She kicked the shoes off again and tried to wipe the incriminating grass from her soles on the rug that proclaimed BACK DOOR GUESTS ARE CERT AINL Y THE BEST! And she thought how she would like to be going back out that door. Instead she crossed to the table and sat in the Hot Seat with a silent sigh. The kids had dubbed that chair with its fitting name because Daddy always wanted you to sit in that particular chair if you’d been ‘bad’ and he had to ‘ask you something’.
She raked her hair off her forehead and looked at his back, glared actually. ’One more time is all it’ll take and I’ll lose it. After three kids and ten long years I’m sick of being in this stupid Hot Seat of his, being bitched at like I’m a renegade teenager and he’s Big Mad Daddy, hope he chokes on that coffee.’
The clink-CLINK-clink of the coffee spoon was maddening. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of screaming at him to come on and get it over with. So she gritted her teeth and waited.
Finally, after about 300 years, he laid down the spoon, sipped the steaming cup of coffee that looked more like hot cocoa, a result of the two pounds of creamer he put in it, and still he didn’t look at her. Instead, he turned and looked out the window to the back yard--where she had been.
“What the hell were you doing out there? Trying to give the neighbors a free show? Advertise yourself? Just tell me what you were doing! I’ll be honest, I feel like knocking your two thousand dollar teeth right out of your stupid head. But I won’t,” he paused, for emphasis no doubt. Give the threat time to hit home. “It’s been a long time since I hit you, I think I’ve come past all that. And for your sake you better hope so. I don’t understand why you want to push me to hit you.” He was wearing his best I’m the Boss, Fear Me look on his face as he sat. “I’m waiting. Answer.” The muscles in his jaws worked as he glowered at her.
She knew she was pushing her luck, but then again how good had her luck been when she snagged this winner in the first place? She was most defensive and irritable when the kids weren’t around. She sneered, couldn’t help it, “Well, now, did it look like I was shittin in the weeds? Or maybe it looked like I was trying to turn on one of our well-equipped neighbors. You know the ones with all those schnazzy electronics that keep em running like robots. Hearing aids, pacemakers, electric wheel chairs. Whooo! Bunch of Geriatric Johns! Hold me back! Yeah, that is probably what I was doing.” Her look glazed from fire to ice. “Now, what do YOU think I was doing?” Her smile was lit with pure bone-jarring rage. “I’m waiting for an answer.” She was shocked, and more than a bit pleased, with the venom in her own voice. She felt strong; who cared where the sudden daring strength had come from? And she reveled in the horrified look on her husband’s face. She knew he was thinking that something was very wrong with her--and that made her happier; her grin widened.
He looked like a fish out of water--eyes bulging, mouth opening and closing ever so slightly. His coffee cup was poised in the air halfWay to his mouth-- mission failed--as he tried to absorb and understand just what had happened. After an explosively pregnant pause the coffee cup drifted down to the table like a leaf falling from its home high in a tree. When the cup was on the table his fingers were still loathe to let it go. His face had almost returned to normal, he tried to regain his composure and his control over the situation--and there was no way she would let that happen, not now, not ever again.
She placed both hands palm down on the table and stood up. Lowering her head she looked him straight in the eye. “No more. Do you understand me? No more.” She kicked back with her left foot--resembling a mule--and sent the Hot Seat scuttering and clattering from the kitchen table all the way to an abrupt halt against the living room door. The noise was huge in the silent house. She never blinked and he recoiled a few inches from her flaring face that also didn’t move through the whole ordeal. He wasn’t used to flinching; he was used to causing others to flinch.
“You,” he whispered, it was a hoarse, scratchy sound, “how dare you!” He slammed his boulder of a fist onto the table and caused everything on it to jump and rattle. Still she didn’t flinch. Instead she grinned again. She turned on her heel, grabbed her keys from the corny lip-shaped holder on the wall and started for the door. She heard his chair scoot away from the table as she reached the now tumbled Hot Seat. She reached down with her free hand, snatched the Hot Seat by the edge and slung it back toward the kitchen--and him--as she turned for one final look. He threw his arms up in a defensive reflex as the chair hurtled toward him. It didn’t hit his face, which he had covered, the back hit him square in the chest and caused the legs to shoot between his spread legs. When the leg made contact with the family jewels he moaned, unable to stop himself: and crumpled to his knees, eyes watering. She didn’t pause long enough to see the rest of the scene play out. By the time he hit the floor on his knees she was slamming the car door, leaving. This time she knew it was for good. On her behalf anyway.
She had done something that had been so unthinkable two days before that she was in shock for hours. She felt like she was dreaming and would wake up any moment. She was driving, just driving. There was a long stretch of potholed hardpan that started about a mile from her home and she drove it all the way to the state line at the top of the mountain where she now sat in the dark, motor oft: looking at the mountain with longing, wanting to be out there under the moon again. She had always felt as if she was different and tonight she knew she was. She wasn’t like any of her friends or her family. Only one aunt shared in her strangeness and the family had all but blackballed her long ago as a result.
The wind soughed through the trees, rustling them and to her it looked like a lover caressing the one he loved. She stepped out of the car and walked up to the top of the mountain peak that had been cleared and was named the Overlook. She thought, ‘Perfect name. It fits. You can look over the whole county ITom here.’ That’s when she remembered the voices in her backyard. Child of Aradia they had called her. Was she really a child of one of the old gods? The goddess sent to teach women the art of witchcraft? Surely not. The wind stopped suddenly and she could hear something moving about in the wooded area to her left. The moonlight shimmered on a glistening large feminine form moving toward her almost silently. This form was tall, at least eight feet. Fear tried to stab her heart but peaee took its plaee and a sense of coming home. As the figure stepped out into the clearing Sandra knew this was no other than Aradia herself, daughter of Diana. One of the Old Ones that people had lost faith in.
Aradia made her way across the clearing in long feminine strides that would put any pageant contestant to shame. Sandra knelt in ITont of her and lowered her eyes.
“Get up silly girl. I don’t ask for any such as this. You have done something that honors me more than being on your knees ever could. You danced with my familiars under the full moon. You stood up for yourself and your children. And you believed in my ways and me. That is one of the greatest honors any of us Old Gods can receive.” Sandra was standing stock-still; listening to all the things Aradia told her and not quite believing what was happening. Aradia stretched out one long slender and beautiful arm. Her hand wa.c; palm-up and seemed to be collecting moonlight from the very air. She held her hand over Sandra’s head and turned it palm-down, the moonlight poured out of her hand over Sandra’s whole body. Aradia wa.c; speaking in an unearthly language, beautiful and peaceful; musical. Sandra felt the moonlight wash down over her like warm water only it went all the way to her soul and she heard her own soul as it communed with Aradia in that same unearthly language of love and acceptance. “You are blessed from now until we meet in the Afterlife. I, Aradia, have blessed you and your children through you. Go home and have no more worries. Your children will need you.” Then she was gone. She faded away into nothingness as Sandra was starting to protest that she couldn’t go home to her abusive husband one more time.
The familiars were all around and with Aradia’s blessing on her Sandra could see the dim vibrating figures all around her. “Go, go, go, go... .go on.”
Sandra drove back home. She sat in the driveway a long time debating on whether to go in and face him again or not. She decided she would.
As soon as Sandra opened her front door she knew he was gone. Where? She didn’t care. Nothing was missing and his truck was still out front, keys on the corny little holder, coffee cup on the table with cold coffee in it, overturned Hot Seat where it had been when she left. They had taken him; he was completely gone from her life now.
Sandra searched the whole house and grounds--no sign of him. She was glad. She knew she would have to tile a missing persons report and she knew they would find nothing. She played by all the accepted rules of the land and went along with his family for the next year on all the theories and rumors but she alone knew the truth and was glad.
The last time Jared was seen was by one of the closer Geriatric Johns who had seen him in the back yard walking toward underbrush as if he were being beckoned by someone or something. He went into the underbrush and never came out. The police detectives followed all the leads and followed his footprints into the underbrush but could never find a trace of him from there. Sandra often smiled at the officers, a sad little smile that concealed very well how happy she was.
Karen R. Porter
Black dog
won scariest
category in a
contest. His white owner says that’s
racist.
William Colon
Tom entered the living room of his house. As soon as he did, he picked up the night lamp that was on top of the coffee table and shattered it on the floor.
“What the hell!” Lisa screamed as she saw him do this.
“Shut up!” He murmured.
“Are you drunk again?” She asked.
“Shut up,” he scowled as he stumbled on to the floor.
“Do you remember what happened the last time you were like this?” She screamed as she kicked the smashed lamp over him.
“Do you!”
She placed her left foot on his head.
“Get off my head,” he groaned.
“Where is Little Tommy?” She asked with a abnormal smirk on her lips.
“Where is Little Tommy?”
He got on his feet and screamed “Ah!”
He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the living room wall.
He shoved his fingers down her throat, but was stopped by someone tugging on his pants. He turned his head around and saw Little Tommy standing behind him.
“Remember, Daddy, remember.” Little Tommy said.
He lets go off his wife Lisa and staggered into the kitchen. Ten minutes later he staggered out the kitchen and into the living room with his tool box. He threw the tool box on the floor. He opened the tool box and pulled out an electrical drill. As soon as Lisa saw this she began to scream,” not again, not again!”
She walked in front of Little Tommy and held him tightly behind her.
“Go to bed and leave us alone!”
He put a new battery inside his electrical drill and ran toward her.
“Go ahead!” She screamed.
He stopped running and looked at Little Tommy.
“Do you remember, Daddy, do you?” Little Tommy cried.
“Nothing happened!” Tom screamed.
He dropped the electrical drill on the living room floor. He stumbled back inside the
kitchen and opened the top cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. He opened the bottle and swallowed half of the content in one gulp.
“Nothing happened!” He scowled.
Little Tommy pulled on his pants again.
“Daddy remember, please remember!” Little Tommy begged.
Big Tom screamed as he slammed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen table.
Lisa walked inside the kitchen.
“It happened here!” She said as she pointed down at the kitchen floor.
“It is a lie!” Big Tom shrieked after he gulped down the rest of the whiskey that was inside the bottle.
He dropped the bottle on the kitchen floor as soon as it hit the floor it shattered and he said,
“Nothing happened!”
The shattered glass moved toward Lisa’s feet. She turned her head down and stared at the glass which was slowly shaped into an arrow. The projectile aimed inside the living room. Just then thick blood slowly dribbled from Lisa’s nostrils and onto the kitchen floor.
“Why are you denying it?” She asked as she looked up at Big Tom with her empty eye sockets and pale rotting face.
“Nothing happened!” He screamed as he lurched on the kitchen floor.
“Don’t lie!” Little Tommy screamed as thick blood rapidly spitted out his mouth.
He rapidly walked toward Tom and hastily touched him on the back with his pale rotting hand.
“Nothing happened!” Big Tom screamed as he stared at Little Tommy’s rotting face.
“Yes it did,” Little Tommy screamed as a snake rapidly slithered out his left eye socket and into his right eye socket.
“Right here!” Lisa screamed as she quickly pointed at the kitchen floor.
A cold shiver hurriedly ran down Big Tom’s spine as a cold breeze swiftly swept his body into a dark room.
He was then briskly bounded by the vaporous hollered of Lisa.
“No!” He screamed as he covered his ears.
Her blood splattered all over his face as he bashed her. She screamed for three hours. In those three hours he did nothing but stabbed her with the kitchen knife.
He stabbed her two hundred and twenty two times on her right leg. I-Ie then stabbed hertwo hundred and twenty two times on her left leg, and two hundred and twenty two times on her
left arm. All together he stabbed her six hundred and sixty six times. I-Ie then dragged her body into the basement.
He threw her in a five foot hole he had created previously. I-Ie staggered up the basement stairs and dragged Little Tommy out his bed.
“What is going, daddy?” Little Tommy asked.
“You and mommy are going bye, bye.” Big Tom replied.
“Why?” Little Tommy asked.
“I’m not man enough to handle you both.” Big Tom replied as he carried Little Tommy down the basement stairs.
“What do you mean?” Little Tommy asked.
Big Tom did not reply but instead threw Little Tommy next to his mother.
Little Tommy tried to get out but Big Tom threw dirt above him with the shovel. Little Tommy fought through the dirt but was stopped by another and then another and so on.
Two hours later he sat on his one man couch inside the living room and drunk until he passed out. When he woke up the next morning Lisa was cooking breakfast and little Tommy was sitting o’n the floor by the one man couch.
Big Tom got up from the couch and washed his face and shaved. He kissed Lisa on her bruised lips and left for work.
Now the cold breeze swept him back inside the kitchen. He woke up on the kitchen floor. He got up and discovered Lisa and Little Tommy corpses also resting on the kitchen floor.
Once again he denied it to himself.
The door bell rang. He stumbled in his hangover to answer the door.
“Hello, Detective Brain McNealy.” An officer stated.
“How could help you?” Big Tom asked.
“Yes, I’m looking for Lisa, her mother reported her missing. She claimed she attempted to call here several of times, but no one answered the phone for weeks.” The officer replied.
“Well, she is in the kitchen.” Tom replied.
“I’ll go get her.”
“Lisa, a police officer is looking for you!” Tom screamed as he walked into the kitchen.
The police officer followed him. As they walked inside the kitchen the officer took notice of the two corpses and immediately handcuffed Tom, and called for back up.
“What is going on?” Tom screamed.
“I don’t know you tell me!” The officer screamed as he pinned Tom against the wall.
“Nothing happened!” Tom screamed.
what is veganism?
A vegan (VEE-gun) is someone who does not consume any animal products. While vegetarians avoid flesh foods, vegans don't consume dairy or egg products, as well as animal products in clothing and other sources.
why veganism?
This cruelty-free lifestyle provides many benefits, to animals, the environment and to ourselves. The meat and dairy industry abuses billions of animals. Animal agriculture takes an enormous toll on the land. Consumtion of animal products has been linked to heart disease, colon and breast cancer, osteoporosis, diabetes and a host of other conditions.
so what is vegan action?
We can succeed in shifting agriculture away from factory farming, saving millions, or even billions of chickens, cows, pigs, sheep turkeys and other animals from cruelty.
We can free up land to restore to wilderness, pollute less water and air, reduce topsoil reosion, and prevent desertification.
We can improve the health and happiness of millions by preventing numerous occurrences od breast and prostate cancer, osteoporosis, and heart attacks, among other major health problems.
A vegan, cruelty-free lifestyle may be the most important step a person can take towards creatin a more just and compassionate society. Contact us for membership information, t-shirt sales or donations.
vegan action
po box 4353, berkeley, ca 94707-0353
510/704-4444
MIT Vegetarian Support Group (VSG)
functions:
* To show the MIT Food Service that there is a large community of vegetarians at MIT (and other health-conscious people) whom they are alienating with current menus, and to give positive suggestions for change.
* To exchange recipes and names of Boston area veg restaurants
* To provide a resource to people seeking communal vegetarian cooking
* To provide an option for vegetarian freshmen
We also have a discussion group for all issues related to vegetarianism, which currently has about 150 members, many of whom are outside the Boston area. The group is focusing more toward outreach and evolving from what it has been in years past. We welcome new members, as well as the opportunity to inform people about the benefits of vegetarianism, to our health, the environment, animal welfare, and a variety of other issues.
The Center for Renewable Energy and Sustainable Technology
The Solar Energy Research & Education Foundation (SEREF), a non-profit organization based in Washington, D.C., established on Earth Day 1993 the Center for Renewable Energy and Sustainable Technology (CREST) as its central project. CREST's three principal projects are to provide:
* on-site training and education workshops on the sustainable development interconnections of energy, economics and environment;
* on-line distance learning/training resources on CREST's SOLSTICE computer, available from 144 countries through email and the Internet;
* on-disc training and educational resources through the use of interactive multimedia applications on CD-ROM computer discs - showcasing current achievements and future opportunities in sustainable energy development.
The CREST staff also does "on the road" presentations, demonstrations, and workshops showcasing its activities and available resources.
For More Information Please Contact: Deborah Anderson
dja@crest.org or (202) 289-0061
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