Dug Up

The basement was always damp. Being near the water, we assumed it was the price to pay for our piece of Heaven on Earth. It was our new beginning. We were trying to rebuild our friendship, our life, our marriage and this was a grand place to start. We decided to leave the ugly, mistake riddled past behind and bury it. We could start over. It wasn't until we wanted to change the look of things that we got socked with it. Oh they would have to dig and restructure and fix our Heaven. We foolishly thought it would be better. After all, everything needs work. We, more than most, knew that and for a while it was. It was drier, more quiet, peaceful and confirmed that we had done the right thing.  We just didn't know what we'd dug up.

It began simply enough; with little noises, misplaced shadows. It's funny to me now when I think back how the warning signs were there; subtle as a whisper. I remember my mother's silver watch disappearing from its green velvet pouch inside my drawer and showing up more than a month later on the top shelf of my closet, draped neatly over the wire rack where I conveniently kept nothing. I smiled at the playful trick my husband must have played on me and even said aloud "Very funny."

There were the games with the faucets;.They would turn on and run at their discretion. I would simply sigh and blame mine or my husband's carelessness, forgetting that we had not been in that end of the house for a day or more. Things shifted around. Cords for the lamps? Often unplugged and draped in to the middle of the room. My phone disappeared and despite the fervor to find it, it was discovered two days later laying in the middle of the coffee table. The lone item in the center. I shook my head and laughed at the mischief. Rarely was I frightened or upset. Once when I lay on the couch, staring into the night, wishing I didn't suffer from insomnia, the television came on; no channels, just snow, which is unusual because our system defaults to one. I stood and watched it for a while then said quietly. "That is not nice. You scared me."

The tv clicked off while the remotes remained on the table.

I had kind of given in to the idea of having extra tenants, certain I could talk myself out of  the eeriness most days. At night, it became more difficult.  Maybe it was trying to get my attention,. Maybe there was more than one and I was sent a warning? I guess it doesn't matter now. My husband, Jake, never believed or experienced much. He was at work a lot. I noticed stresses in our newly created utopia. I seemed to be the only one in it. He was away more and more. His tone with me was sharp and impatient. He would sit and watch me but when I tried to speak with him, even about the most simple things, he simply became irritated and angry; leaving with sharp hurtful words and a disgusted grunt. For a day. Maybe more. I knew we were failing.

It began in October. The real fun.

Jake was away again  on business and I indulged myself as I always did with snacks in bed, my dogs and scary movies. At last I felt the warm coaxing of sleep and snuggled down for the night. I enjoyed  the comfort of the dogs and their soft breathing. I was soothed by my exhaustion and welcomed rest.

There was a scraping like metal on metal that jarred me; like the front window being opened. I sat up and looked around, adjusting to the darkness and shadowy furniture. I strained my ears, hearing my heart and own breath  thundering in my ears.  A shuffle came from downstairs in the family room.  I shook the groggy cobwebs from my head and noticed the dogs had not stirred. They were my miniature alarm system, since Jake was away, yet they happily chased rabbits and chuffed in their own undisturbed dreams.  I thought I had simply frightened myself with a nightmare. I laid back down and closed my eyes. Sleep reluctantly crept up and revisited.

I don't know how long it had been but the dogs woke me and brought real fear. They sat up growling and snarling.  They stared at the door but would not move. They smacked at the blankets with their paws and moved in defensive circles. I saw nothing. I could hear the same. Getting up, I slipped in to my robe and pocketed my phone. I quietly moved to the edge of the hall and looked down over the balcony into my family room. Empty. But the curtain shifted, waving to me. I had closed all the windows before I retired. This was not possible. I drummed my fingers on the banister and decided peace of mind could only be achieved with it's closing.  I pushed the curtain back and gave the window a shove. A laugh echoed at the back of my neck,causing me to spin. I froze.

Standing in front of me was a tall man. His eyes were dark and hollow. His skin had a greyish hue and the smell of him was that of sour mud. He leaned in close to me and grinned. His teeth seemed too long and were stained; broken. I gasped and ran from him, flying down the hall and up the stairs.  I fumbled with my phone, trying to dial my husband for help.  I reached my room and slammed the door, flipping the lock and jumped on my bed.  The dogs were quickly on me, sniffing, licking all in reassurance. I heard the steps coming down the hall and saw the handle turn.  Receiving resistance, it stopped.  There was a light scratching and another laugh. Then silence.

We all cowered for the remainder of the night.

Each night after that was progressively worse; a horrible game of hide and seek. He would make a loud noise to ensure I was paying attention then he would wait for me to come out to find him.  He would approach me, sometimes as if to scratch, shove or attempt to strike with more force but I always ran from him.  His chase was slow and methodical. He refused to run up the stairs, choosing instead to contort and crawl with his back low and flat and his legs and arms outstretched like a spider. He would stop at my door and tap, laughing at my fear. Then he began to come in, standing at the foot of my bed. He just kept getting closer to me; enthralled with my terror.  During the day, I did the research I should,  I looked at the local history and searched crime logs. I found very little; a man had disappeared in the late 1800's leaving a young wife who left the area not long after. His name was Joshua Lambert. It was unremarkable. and no other listings of violence or tragedy seemed to dog the property or even the area. I contacted various paranormal societies but more often than not, they seemed like scam artists.  I had the house blessed and conducted certain cleansing rituals and although these things worked for short periods of time, they were never pemranent solutions. He stayed with me.

The last night I lived in the house began as so many others; the sound of metal on metal. My eyes slammed open and my heart began to pound. I heard footsteps moving along the wood foyer and up the stairs. I saw his shadow, darker than the night, come in to my room. I heard his soft maniacal laughter and opened my eyes to see him. He stood at the foot of my bed and grinned. My blood ran cold. He leaned down and slowly sat on the edge. I pulled the covers up and in the softest shakiest voice I could find told him to leave me alone.

He smiled and in a voice that was choked with water, wreaking of  decay he bubbled. "No. You belong with me."

"You need to move on. You don't live here anymore. I do now. " I said hearing my own bones rattling under my goose bumbed flesh

"You belong here with me." he repeated and flashed his grin.

I felt nausea begin to burn inside me. "No I am alive. You are dead."

"Not for long." and he began to crawl  up the sheets toward me, his laughter seeming to steal the scream I so wanted to release.  I closed  my eyes and prayed for a swift end. I wanted Jake to save me. In my head I begged for that. There was a squeak as the front door opened. I heard footsteps wander down the hall and slowly begin up the steps.  My prayer had been answered. Jake was home to save me; to save us It would all be okay. My ghostly assailant seemed bewildered by the noise and pulled away, rushing to become nothing more than a darker shadow in the corner. Relief flooded my veins; a smile crept over my mouth.  My knight appeared in the doorway and looked at me. He came around to his side of the bed and leaned over me. I couldn't wait to feel the reassurance of his arms. To hear him whisper my name and hold me tight.

I felt his hands around my throat and his weight on my chest.  My lungs burned and begged for help. My eyes began to feel tight inside my skull. He squeezed my neck and sneered my name with disdain. He shifted his body  to kneel on my chest. Panic flared in my belly. My brain cried out for air. My heart sobbed and stopped.

The laughter tickled my ears like an autumn breeze. I glanced around to see the man standing in the corner; smiling as always. He moved toward me and I pulled away curling up on the bed.

"Don't." I choked.

"I can't hurt you... any worse." he smiled.

The tears came. Well, I guess the feeling that comes with tears; the heaviness, the tightness and the hollowness. Disbelief replaced sorrow.

"What do I do?"

He raised his hand and tilted his head sadly. "come with me."

"I'm afraid." I squeaked childishly.

"There is no more of that. You can come with me. " He said again. His voice somehow sounded more clear to me than before, less offensive. He stepped forward and I saw more distinct features; brown eyes, a thin face, dark curly hair. "It will be easier if you do."

"Why?"

"Why what?" he asked.

"What's happened?"

"You are dead with me."

"Where am I? Is this Heaven? Purgatory? Hell?"

"None of those things. This is ... "

And there was movement. Jake came in and sat down on my side of the bed. He pulled up my phone and called his cell. I heard it ring. He answered it and set them together ... as if we were talking.  He packed some of my things and my purse into a bag and put it into the trunk. I saw all of this as if I was looking though a dirty window. His shoes were caked with mud. It smelled sour and rotten. Like the old basement.

"Where am I?"

The man turned and gave me a sad smile. "With me now. I will take care of you."It was a soft voice now. It contained a gentleness.

"No. Where am I?"

"Ahhhh ... where I used to be.."

"What do I do."

"Stay. Until you too are dug up." he said quietly and left me to take in the words. He walked down the hall and waited at the top of the steps.

I slowly followed him. He raised his hand once more.  I took it. 

And we will wait.



And a happy Sunday to you. With all the construction we've had done on Promises and with my favorite season getting in to full swing, I had to write this. Most of you know I've had some strange things happen up there and with the history... it's understandable. I hope you enjoyed the twist. I did. This piece began as something else entirely and it is in fact three months old. Well, I hope you had a good time while you were here. I did. You know I miss your company. I am heading for a warm sexy vacation soon. It's been a long haul. I'm looking forward to it. Hope to see you soon. Thank you for comeing nd sharing this with me.

In the land of Nod

She was woozy and unstable in her new surroundings; much like a baby giraffe. But there was a comfort; a confidence that washed over her and gave warmth; security. She could be okay here. She looked around her room, peering at her old one throught the looking glass. It sat quiet and empty. It seemed almost lonely. Turning, she saw herself sitting quietly and watching, taking it all in.

"I like it already." she smiled to herself.

"I'd wait before stacking that ballot box." was the cautious reply.

"Where should we go? What should we do?"

"The same as before. It isn't a vacation. I still work. I live in this house. We aren't twins or buddies. We are one."

"Do you want to go to my house?"

"No."

"I don't blame you really." She sighed and wiped her hands on her pants. "So... want me to go to work for you?"

A wry smile crept across her counterparts face. "Sure. You know the way. Knock yourself out. Just don't screw up. I have a reputation to keep." with that, she sauntered down the hall. "Let's worry about dinner first. Tomorrow will be here soon enough."

"Well, I can make that tuna I picked up yesterday and we can have..."

There was almost a screech of shoes that stopped the other mid stride. "Uh...I don't cook. People cook FOR me. Where do you want to go?"

"Oh. Ok well, what about the pizza place on the corner? We could order sandwiches and I could pick them up."

A tired sigh raspberried from her lips. "Nooooo we'll go in to town like I do every night." There was no asking. It was decided.

She shrugged and went along almost glad for the decision being made. "Maybe I can learn this after all." she thought.

But dinner was a different experience altogether. They went as one person, choosing to flip their presence to allow for actual eating and some socializing.  It was funny how different they were. Here, she realized that her "other" was more aggressive and certain of herself.  She was confident and cool.  It was interesting to see how people jumped for her approval, fought for her favor and did what she wanted.  This was the opposite of what she experienced in her world. It was intoxicating to watch.  She did her best when it was her "turn" to eat or order to keep the momentum. And could barely sleep thinking how exciting work would be in the morning. She lay in bed and plotted her day. who would she see first and what would it be like? could she stop their bullying? The guilt trips and manipulation? The possibilities were endless.

Morning came earlier than her usual 7am, awakened by a loud knock

"You going or not?"

"I'm due in at 9."

"Wrong." Came the haughty reply. "If you want to continue on the fast track, you better be there well before 8. I'm going for a run. I suggest you be gone before I get back. It would be disappointing for me to have "me"lazing around. I don't like to be disappointed."  she turned on her heal and headed out.

Quickly she rummaged for some clothes and cleaned up. It was hard to get so motivated at this ugly early hour but she did it.  Just as she grabbed her things and reached for the knob, she met herself at the door.
"Ha. This is it. I've met myself coming as I'm going."

There was no smile or reaction.  Just a roll of the eyes and a shove passed. "Before 8." she echoed.

The office had a different look to it so early in the morning.  It was set up almost identically except her "new" was the luxurious one at the corner with the walnut desk and what looked to be a secretary's desk.  She had a secretary? Smiling quietly she sat for a few minutes to enjoy her success.  She flipped through her files for the day, realizing that she wasn't up to date on the problems on her desk or exactly how to handle them.  It caused some anxiety as she began to move things in to piles for others to take care of.  She then checked her computer, glad the passwords were the same and watched the accounts.  She had quite a few marked for activity during the day; shifting funds and termination of some partnerships, redirecting...she was going to be busy today.  With a sigh, she rolled up her sleeves and began.  There were some passwords that weren't as obvious and so she had to text her to get them.  They came back abruptly with the threat of consequences if anything was screwed up.  The sun crept in to the office and joined her eventually as did coworkers.  She kept hammering away at her stuff and rarely looked up.  Just before she gathered her things for lunch someone stood quietly in the doorway, gently clearing her throat and awaiting recognition.

"Yes?" She looked up almost startled to see her first axe to grind. "Can I help you Nicole?"

The stance was timid as she recinded from the doorway a little. "I'm sorry to bother you Ms. Sheridan but I have these files and I just wondered if you were sure you wanted me to take care of these things."

"Did I leave them on your desk?" the answer was quick even for her. But something inside her began to push and grind a little. She realized for all the snide ugly remarks in her old world, THIS Nicole was NOT the ladder climbing, back biting bitch and Denise felt tall and strong to finally have the upper hand.

"Well, yes, but I wasn't sure. Last time you said ..."

"Well I guess I'm feeling generous and I'm saying NOW that you should take care of these.  Do you think that you can do it correctly or do I need to find someone else?"

"NO no I can do it." Nicole's hair fell in her face covering puffy eyes and thin lips.  She was not the stark raven beauty that Denise was used to seeing. There were no fitted blouses to accentuate her bustline or skirts a smidgeon too short.  She looked almost frumpy. There was satisfaction on Denise's face and deep down.

"See that you do. I want it tomorrow." she turned before Nicole could see her lip quiver. She dabbed it and leaned on her desk to steady herself.  Never had she given an order. CERTAINLY not to Nicole, who was quick to run to their boss, Josh, who used her as a release for his sexual tension and enjoyed handing her blatant  "pet" status.  Somehow Denise knew this mouse of a woman wasn't Josh's "pet".  That left two of the three to see.  The afternoon moved along. More funds shifted, more files piled on her desk and more delegating and dumping went on. It was nearing 5 when she saw Cindy and Josh leaning together packing up to go for the day. A smile crept across her lips.

"Where do you want to go tonight?" they almost giggled.

They stopped suddenly and glanced at the floor as if caught reading comics in church.  "Heading home." Josh said and stood straight.  He looked her in the eye and flashed a smile she had succumbed to once.  He had needed a favor and used her, manipulated and lied to her for weeks to get her to finish a project that got him promoted.  She did not feel weak kneed now as she once had.

"Actually, no.  You are heading down to get me copies, find these files, make these edits and confirm these appointments.  Then YOU ... " She turned toward Cindy who had begun to slink away in the hopes of not being recognized or addressed , focusing a glare that would have sent even the strongest superhero to the ground in agonizing pain.  "Will research these clients' paperwork get them prepped for tomorrow and finalize these that need closing."

Cindy's shoulders fell and she toed the rug.  "I have someplace to be tonight . I can't."

A tight smile stretched across Denise's face.  "I have some place I"D like to be tonight too but I know what's important.  If you don't, then as your superior, I have both the obligation and desire to show you. Too Bad Cynthia. Work or don't. But if you choose not to, you will not need to worry about working....at all.  Josh? Do you have somewhere YOU"D rather be? Gosh, maybe we could just order in some awful Chinese food and laugh a lot ..." rolling her eyes, she dumped stacks of folders between them and left.  Stunned, they stood and looked after her missing the chance to catch those papers slipping out of folders, fluttering and drifting to the ground.

"...After you clean THAT up though...." she flipped.

Her smile was from ear to ear and she nodded with apporval for her first day in a new pro-Denise world. She left them in dim lights and frustrated mutterings. Enjoying the Karma that had revisted so justly in her mind. she couldn't wait to share her day; her victories.

"NEVER give them ANYTHING!" came the furious shout.  she watched herself slam and stomp around.  
"THIS is EXACTLY what I told you NOT to do!" Denise didn't understand. She had shuffled her jobs, made others hop and work like dogs for her... How could it be wrong? 

"But I didn't screw up your accounts. I made all the transfers. I ..."

"YOU are an IDIOT!" came the shout. She stared at herself incredulously. "Those accounts are PRIVATE and ALL my responsibility. There IS no room for error. There IS no one else to do what I do."

Denise stood quietly and let herself finish; feeling embarrassed and humiliated by the angry breath in her face and the pointed manicured nail that poked at her. 

"I don't know WHAT you did or HOW you survived in your drab little shameful excuse for a life, but you WILL NOT bring that crap into MY world! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? That is MY money and ONLY MINE! I have earned this"

She was stunned. And disappointed, blinking back the tears and astonishment.. "Who ARE you?" she asked softly.

The smile was wry and cruel "Everything you wanted to be. Remember? Be careful little girl of what you ask for because you JUST might get it. DON'T expect to work for me tomorrow. go shop or get our nails done or something pretty.  Youre not much use for anything else."

Denise felt her shoulders droop ...as always.  She looked at the ground and felt any power or credibility she'd given herself spill out on to the floor.

"No wonder you tried to off yourself." 

And Denise watched herself storm down the hall. "MY money..." she mocked and made a sour face. Then it hit her ~ My money. Her mind began to churn and it was HER turn to smile.



And so we have story number two from "The Mirror". I have been fighting direction of this for weeks.  It has been beyond frustrating but I think I am content where we are going.  Hold my hand and come along. I hope it doesn't take me so long to write the next one!

My thanks to you; for coming over, writing, just checking in. I appreciate you. Let's get together soon and just enjoy each other. Sound good?

Cooper

This has been delayed. Due to trama? Maybe. Inability to accept what happened? Perhaps. A good old fashioned case of the willies? Most possible.  Come a little closer to me. I want to show you something.  But first, a little story:

My Nubian Princess, Birdie, is part of my entourage.  You all know that.  She is my tiny shadow and there isn't a place that I go she doesn't follow.  However, she is a wanderer; treasuring the time she spends under things: decks, clothes, porches, tree stumps, sink holes; you get the picture? You bet.  Your'e all smarties.  A few days ago, I noticed she was licking her "elbow" a lot.  I am the only one who can "wool" her around, so I snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander.  A red spot. Hmph. Must've gotten bit.  We've been traveling to see friends and take the toddlers with us when there is a puppy fruiendly home. She must have found a not so friendly bug: an earwig, a spider...who knows. So I dismissed and moved along.

But she kept licking and figeting with it. Hmph. so I snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander. Now it was red with a small hole there. Ohhhh great. NOW I thought she had REALLY gotten popped: by a tick or a brown recluse or maybe even (God help her) some whacked out crazy bee that deposited a poison sack. Poor lil girl.  I was up north and decided that since there was nothing I could do until after the holiday, I would at least try to make her comfortable.  I got out the antibiotic ointment, snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander. Yep. Needs ointment.  So I splopped on it and held her, rubbing her belly so she wouldn't immediately chew off my failproof plan.  Well, my intentions got derailed.

The ointment moved as if by a windhsield wiper.

Read it again.

At first, I justified it by a poison sack having its own pulse or her irritaion and that muscle movement must have played tricks on my eyes.  So of course I pushed it back over the wound and waited.

The ointment moved. (swiiiiiish-bloop!)

Revulsion is a creeping emotion. It is one of the most frightening too. My shoulder blades went weak and my mouth instantly puckered. Ew. EW

EWWWWW!

I ,for what ever weird reason knew what that was and began to shiver, way down deep. A warble. A bott fly. Oh my God. A larvae was peeking at me from my dog's elbow. What the HELL? So I called the vet and made the appointment. Still glaring at the awful bug staring at me from under her skin.

I was met at the door by six people who snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander. Then like a wininng football star, they carried her back with excitement to go and see what it was all about. She was distraught. Understandably so. If you had a frigging stowaway in YOUR elbow and a bunch of freaks carried you off to poke you with needles and pull at the ONE spot on your body that hurt...

They had to give her another dose of propofol. Michael would have been jealous.  Schiperkees stress and typically require more than calculated dose. So they operated and she came back to me; larvae free and higher than a kite. I think in the softest puppy voice I could have heard, she said something along the lines of

"DUUUUUUUDE! The COLORS are SOOOO sparkly!"

I carried her out and laid her down in the seat with a blankie. (Who doesn't want a good blankie?)  They handed me her meds and a vial. The little bastard was in there. I drove home, cooing and soothing my lil junkie in the back and once home, I set all the stuff on the counter; including the offender.  My daughter snatched it up, flipped it over and took a gander.

"It's name is Cooper."

"That's disgusting. No it isn't."

"Can I keep it in my room? I think it's looking at me."

"That's disgusting. No. and it probably is. If you keep it in your room it will get out and find you...YOUR arm."

"MOM! That's dis-GUST-ing"

I carried the patient who was humming puppy songs happily from the backseat of my car up to her cage and sat her down.  she collapsed sideways on the carpet and giggled in a chuff.  I scooped her up and laid her on her blankie in her cage.  She didn't move. She didn't blink. she could only loll there.  I had to push her back in to her crate by her face because I simply couldn't get to her. My furry little hop-head.

Today, she is a different young lady. She can run and she seems much more cheerful.  I am glad to have my little shadow back.

Cooper?  I walked by his vial for a day or two and shook it like a muthah, scolding it and hoping childishly that I was giving it a headacke or at least blurred vision. Little bastard.  Hurt my pooch.  Serves ya right.

Sooooo
Meet Cooper.

Should

I know this isn't the next installment, but I have had too many irons in the fire and I just had to finish one of my many and get it out there.  Sometimes I give myself writer's block, I swear. I have edited and re-edited this bad little boy for more than three weeks. I needed to just get it out of my site. It's not the cleanest but I enjoy it for it's ragged appearance and backwards view. Not my usual style so I appreciate what's differnt (regardless of how difficult.)

I hope this finds you well and glad that school is about to be in session again.  Things have been busy for us. (Understatement) 

Until next time, take care of you and be happy. Thanks for stopping by. Your visits and comments are always enjoyed.

I sat at the bar and waited, drinking cranberry and seltzer as if it were the vodka I really wanted.. He came as he always did; sizing up all of us that moped around his dark bar. There was Mae, who sat and drank herself blind on Wednesdays because that was the day her husband left to be with a woman she had once been but lost in the raising of her family, and suppressed to the the wants of a man who in the end, never noticed.  There was Mike, who toyed with the swizzle stick of his Crown, poking recklessly at the ice cubes as they dwindled in his glass like his broken dreamt up life. Most days, he would succumb to the Royal feelings and begin to bleat about the injustices of the world and how he had been oh-so-wronged. And there was me. I rarely spoke. My problem wasn't appropriate for sharing with the others.  I glanced and smiled too hard at him as I always did, struggling to hold the bile in my mouth.  He slithered up next to me, ordering  a little Gentleman Jack. He was anything but.  Turning to me, he began to chit chat and stroke my leg. I endured and fought the screech in my chest that thumped and begged to get out. I shut my eyes, belting back the last of my drink, wincing with disappointment; just juice.  He blew sour, dirty breath in my ear and down my neck; slurring that he thought I looked like I needed a good time. He pinched my nipple through my shirt, grinning like a mangy wolf.  I laughed.  My body was screaming for a good time all right, but he had no idea what it was exactly that I needed.  He suggested we should go outside for a little fresh air and a change of scenery.

  I said yes we should.  Funny word; should. My body came alive;  hovering with expectation of what was sure to come. It was like an evil Christmas. I saw the gift but had to wait to open it.

We barely made it out to the dingy lot before he pushed me up against the wall next to the dumpster and began to maul me. He forced my legs apart with his knee and tore at my clothes. He gulped at my throat; slobbering on my cheek; at the corner of my mouth as if he had been overwrought with passion as he pushed against me, he moaned to his own selfish timing; encouraging me to join in I guess.  I felt my body tighten and recoil.  I could barely breathe.  The scream, if let out, would never stop.  I grabbed and pulled at things around me; garbage cans, trash bags,  watching him as he mistook my disgust for desire and want.  A low moan slipped from my mouth. I started to wrench away. This made him angry so he punched me in the stomach hard enough that I doubled over and threw up. The street tilted.

"You a tease?" he huffed, yanking my hair. He punched my jaw so hard i thought it flew to the other side of the street. Darkness crawled over me.  I felt warm and numb. 

When I woke, I heard the night all around me. Crickets chanted "run. run. run" in the woods where I lay.  Pain burned under my skin like gnashing jaws. slowly I tried to open my eyes.  One was swollen shut but the other fluttered and gave way to cloudy misery.  He sat smoking next to me; waiting.  I saw a box of garbage bags, a small gas can, a knife and a huge roll of tape.  I remained still, thinking through what I wanted to accomplish. I had come too far to lose. It simply wasn't an option.

  "Wake up Princess." he cooed, rolling his cigarette back and forth in his fingers.  He blew the smoke at me and kicked me.  "Up." he commanded.

I rolled over to face him and felt the familiar poke in my pocket from what I needed to stay alive. Confidence and eagerness swept through me.

"You always such a buzz kill?" I asked wiping my mouth.

"You want the lights to go out again?"

I was silent and wiggled the small knife to the top of my pocket.  I sat up slowly, folding my hands in my lap to pull it out. Watching every move he made, I felt safer with it out.  It was almost time.

"Lights out." I smiled to myself quietly.

"It doesn't really matter anyway.  No one can hear you out here.  They'll never know you're gone."

"You are that sure?"

"Sure. They never have before."

"you bring all your..."

"girlfriends." he laughed softly. "Let's call them girlfriends."

"girlfriends here?"

"yep."

"How many?"

He paused and glared at me through the night, leaning in close. "some. You should meet them soon-"

And with the sound of my favorite word, I moved, swinging my arm around tight and fast to slice his face from cheek to mouth. A warm spray graced my cheek, sweetly, softly encouraging me to go on.  I rolled quickly to my knees and punched him on the fresh wound. He lolled back surprised and fearful.  It was the most beautiful he would ever look while breathing. He squeaked "stop" and clutched his sagging mouth.  He lunged but missed. I plunged the small dagger into his chest and began to pull. down. Then across. I gutted him.  We watched as his body emptied on to the floor of the woods.  The air stank of copper and filth; all that filled his body and worthless soul. I rolled him to his back and tilted his head to look in to my eyes. He sobbed a little and then the light went out.  I put his cigarette out on the other cheek and kicked him soundly.  I walked back to his car which was close by. I saw its shadow at the edge of the trees where I was supposed to be buried.  I looked and found the shovel meant to cover me with dirt.  I hoisted it over my shoulder and went to work.  It didn't take as long as I thought. maybe I was still filled with adrenaline. Or pride.

He folded up nicely as I rolled him into the muddy pit. I was glad he'd remembered the gasoline. I sat entranced by the flames that stretched and danced in his grave and prayed but I don't know for whom.

Every cell in my body was alive with the most sickening, heavy feeling I can describe.  it wasn't a wave of nausea, it was a consumption of it; by it. If the tears I finally cried had been blood, I'd have died a thousand deaths. My chest was tight and my mouth was dry.  I couldn't speak. Didn't really have anything to say.

But it was nothing compared to what my child suffered at the hands of this man she never knew; a man who had watched, calculated and depended on the naivety and trusting spirit of a child. Predator? No. Not strong enough. Dangerous? Not even close. What he chose to do to my child; the flesh and blood I carried inside my own was beyond disgust.  He hurt my baby. He terrorized her soul and mangled her body. The worst? We didn't know where she was.

More than a year ago, she had begged me to ride her bike to her friend's house; four cul-de-sacs over.  Her pal lived near a park where they had played since they could defiantly creep out of their strollers.  It was like their second home.  At twelve, I had decided she could. She should be okay and responsible.  She had a phone and knew the rules of engagement: call when you arrive, call if there are any changes in plans and call when you are ready to leave.

She did all that. She did what I expected; what I had asked and it wasn't enough. She wasn't safe after all I had done to protect her; taught her:  "Don't talk to strangers."  "If someone approaches in a car go the other direction so they must turn around to drive with you. "  "Don't walk on the sidewalks but closer to the homes in case you need to run up to a door." All of these things we lived and practiced.  I even drove by the park and waved so I would see her.  I failed. She got hurt. I was grateful for the witnesses and relieved that the police found him; but not her body.  I prayed and I begged. I refused to talk to the papers though they followed us no better than that man.  They hounded us, trying to brow beat us into telling "our side" before the verdict went out.  I just couldn't. I had believed he would not go free if I sat patiently and waited for the system to work. For all that is right in this world, that is how it should have been.

funny word : should.

But that isn't what happened. He walked out, passed me and he winked; blowing a greasy kiss as he did so.  I did not move. I felt as if lead pad been poured in my ass and I COULD not move.  I wanted to be sick all over him. I wanted to punch him until the bones in his face sounded like applesauce under my fists.  I wanted to call him all the names he called my daughter. I wanted to save her but it was too late.  We got up and walked away from the lights and cameras.  I turned off my phone, stuffing the the world in my purse for some peace and quiet.  We went home and tried to forget. We went to counselors and tried to heal.  The press vultures soon moved on to devour some other wounded family. We were permitted privacy of sorts.

We tried to step cautiously back in to life, seeing friends and family.  For Christmas I got a camera. I took pictures of those close to me doing everything because never again would I miss a minute of life. We framed them and tried harder to fit in to normal. I became a passionate shutterbug.  I guess I came unglued. I watched him never change or show remorse.  I watched him over and over hurt innocent people; not just the victims, but their families and friends who had to help pick up and start over.

I watched it, I took pictures of it and it all hurt me.

He too rejoined the world. He got a job and an apartment. He took the bus. 403 in the morning and 527 in the afternoon so he could stop at a local bar and eat dinner.  He had no girlfriend anymore.  She had been given a reality show and was too busy on the West Coast to be with him.  She had done a nude spread in some magazine and had acquired quite a following. Thanks all to my daughter. He chain smoked Marlboro reds and wore the same jeans every day.  His hair was usually greasy except for the weekends when he went on the prowl.  He would go to bars and pick up loose women and grind them up in some back alley, beat the shit out of them and then steal something; a  ring, their purses...whatever.  They never told because they were too drunk or high to help themselves.  I usually just got them cabs and sent them home according to their ID's . 

So at last, I compiled the folder; the girls, their conditions, their names addresses everything. I looked at it every day.  My daughter never went to school again.  Amidst all that healing remained a gaping wound. My home was just a house filled with sadness and ghostly memories. I survived my daughter's murder but I was not living.

Until tonight. I let the fire burn for most of the night. I sat glaring at it and talked to my daughter. She was here somewhere in these woods. I rested my head on my knees and dozed for the first time in more than a year. Throughout the night, I put the contents of my purse and the pictures of those girls he had hurt on top of the burning man. I said  I was sorry I had come so late. I was sorry they had suffered like my daughter.  

The sun had peek through the trees to check on me. I used the shovel to cover the hole. I buried that under some leaves and brush near by to make it look less dug up.  Then I took his car and began to drive.  I hit a main road and continued until the gas was almost out. I pulled in to a service station and stated my name, where I lived and that I needed help.

The ambulance came as did the police and family and friends.  There were a ton of questions and sadly, I could answer none of them. I never really saw his face; my assailant. I staggered to the road and drove but I didn't know where I was.  I couldn't remember. The police were frustrated and gently tried to help me recall something; anything.  They pointed out monsters who would do such things should be caught and punished.

Yes they Should.