Push

He sat watching her for the longest time; remembering, loving and hating every move she made.  She had left earlier than he'd anticipated thus forcing him into the few panicked moments he'd needed to catch up and keep an appropriate pace behind her.  He smiled tightly as she rolled her shoulders and craned her neck.  He wanted to touch her there; around her pale throat and squeeze.  He wanted to feel her hands clinging to his; peeling, clawing as she fought for her last breath.  He oh-so-wanted her eyes to bulge and tear, enveloping only HIS face; the last thing she would see on this planet as she was sent down into darkness to meet Maker or Devil.  He hoped for the latter and that she would be forever tormented by the sound of Alan's voice, his face, his touch; as he had suffered so long knowing she was living without him.  

Alan sighed heavily.  It had been more than three years since he and Jayne had stopped seeing each other.  He had been the one to initiate the break up.  He had grown weary of her touchiness, desire to be close, want  for emotional connection; love.  He had met someone else; someone he knew was richer, more fun, a little dirtier in the bedroom and free spirited.  Alan was just certain that it was the road he wanted to travel and it was this other who he needed to be his companion.  Jayne had asked for one thing; a last night.  Well, Alan thought that was less than proud; more along the lines of pitiful and so he'd laughed at her, told her that "with her" wasn't where he wanted to be and that he'd call her.  She had welled up with tears and kissed his forehead saying quietly he'd made a mistake.  He never called.  He made fun of her in certain circles; enjoying her heartbreak and pain as the rumor mill ground on around them with common friends. He was happy that someone had felt such loss over him, making him feel big; powerful.  But it wasn't long before he realized she was right.  And in even less time, he was confused by missing her.  Now?  He was furious at the mild obsession he'd developed for her life; without him.  He saw her go out and knew who she was sleeping with. He had begun to drive by her house more frequently as thoughts and memories flashed around inside his mind.  He called and hung up at her workplace; all the while twisting the sense of loss and desire to rekindle into a simmering cauldron of thick disdain.  It was bubbling over now.

Instead of wanting to reconcile and piece together a less than perfect love; he wanted to destroy her so he never had to worry about wanting her again.  He would kill her, bury her and then he could be free to gallivant with anyone he wanted without comparison or disappointment.  He was bitter that she had a hold over him and he was no longer willing to permit it.  It was a simple problem solved.  He put on his gloves, knelt in the soft pine needles not too far from the cliff where she sat humming a BeeGees' song.  He cursed himself when he at last realized he too was humming it; rubbing his temples in an attempt to erase the image of her standing in the kitchen with his dress shirt half unbuttoned bleating into a warped wooden spoon.  His head throbbed.  Alan squinched his eyes shut and willed her lovely face to fade from his memory.  He crouched and waited for his torture to end.

Jayne had gotten an early start.  Having not slept well in the tent; sore from her hike and climb, she wanted to make a quick go of it and end early; have Neil meet her at the trail head and take her home.  She could hardly wait to take a shower and sleep snuggled up to him in their soft, warm, rock and stick-free bed.  She chucked a pebble over the cliff and took a deep breath enjoying the fog as it fled from the warm, bright embrace of the morning sun.  She was so glad she had taken this time off and had been able to spend it as she had always dreamed.  She frowned a little, remembering how Alan had always made fun of what she'd wanted to do; no matter what it was:  from hiking and climbing, to writing, to picking a new shade of paint for her bathroom.  He'd loved criticizing and downplaying everything she did.  But she'd loved him ~ wholly.  She'd wanted to spend the rest of her life getting to know him, care for and about him, grow old with him.. But he'd just moved on to someone he thought was better.  Along with the new "love" and amorous epiphany, came many superficial demands, a lot of high maintenance and the degradation of being some one's arm candy.  The girl constantly put Alan in his place when in public and continually whined, cried and pouted.  But it was what or who he'd wanted.  It crushed Jayne that he couldn't or didn't want to love her.  It could have been so simple.  

She had been a little unnerved to see Alan drive passed her house and to see his number come up in the caller ID at work.  She hadn't really thought he was the type to stalk.  If he'd wanted to see her, all he'd ever had to do was ask; just make the first move.  Initially, she was certain that her heart would forgive him and they could have started fresh.  She would have loved the chance to hold him again, feel his hands on her body, hear his voice.  Everything about him had driven her wild, but he'd done the cowardly weak thing again and she knew now that the man he said he was, pretended to be, wasn't just a show for her; but an attempt to make himself believe in it as well.  He was a fake.  She wanted a genuine man; a human being who wasn't afraid of vulnerability (his or hers), who wanted to share in private jokes, quiet moments and grand victories.  She needed; Neil.  A ragged breath parted her lips and she faced the sun.  She smiled and brought Neil into her mind and heart.  It felt good.  She turned slightly to hear the rustle from the trees behind her but never moved. She inhaled deeply, catching the soft scent of her ex-lover's soap on the gentle breeze that gently and playfully mussed her hair.  As she looked over the cliff, she wondered how long it had taken Alan to find her. In the back of her mind, she hoped she was strong enough.

His initial thought was to rush out and shove the bitch over.  He bit his lip to hide the laugh that curdled inside his chest.  He instead decided to be a man and give her what she had wanted so badly; a last encounter.  He smiled at his generosity and stepped out of the wood.  He walked casually up behind her and sat down as if they met in this particular spot every week.  He adjusted his gloves and hat pulling in against the cold.  He was slightly disappointed at her lukewarm reception. A few empty moments passed before he spoke. 

"Good romp?"

She licked her lips and struggled to pry her gaze from a bald eagle watching from atop a scraggly bull-pine."I suppose.  It always makes me happy to be out here. At peace."

He brought his hands together, grateful that he was going to take this opportunity to shatter all of that. "I've been..."

"Watching?" 

Alan clenched his jaw and fists. "... THINKING about you. About us." he said tightly. "It was special Jayne."

"It could have been."

"It was. We were."

"You didn't think so at the time.  All I wanted to do was love you Alan. You weren't willing. And now, it's too late."

"It's not too late for things that are real."

"That is so true." she smiled softly thinking of Neil and his gentle words, his loving touch. "Alan, I want you out of my life; for good."

"Forever." he said softly.

"Yes." her nod was slow.

He turned to her and opened his arms.  "A hug goodbye?"

She looked sad and surprised.  "It's not where my heart is Alan. We'll always have memories of ..." and her voice trailed off; disinterest sourly but quickly bringing silence to the pair.  He reached for her shoulders and pulled her to him, feeling her body stiffen with discomfort.  He pulled away as if a passionate kiss had been taking place and brushed her hair softly from her forehead.  His finger trailed her cheek, her jaw and then his hands fulfilled their desire.  They clasped her throat.  Jayne gasped and began to tear at his fingers as they clutched and pinched her soft neck.  His face contorted into a sickened, angry grin as he rose to his knees pulling his victim along.  He heard her choking, felt the last drops of spittle as they dribbled down her lips.  He thought about how much he loved the shade of blue she was turning as her life drained away.  Jayne's body went limp.  The monster's expression turned gleeful and satisfied as he held her face in his hands.  He began to drag her to the edge, preparing to roll her off the cliff into the brush below where it would be days before anyone would find her.  He felt the sand and dirt begin to crumble under his feet, soon he would be free.

Jayne couldn't understand what was happening at first.  He was too close to her, he was acting so odd and then, it was sadly clear.  With his hands around her throat, she struggled to remain calm over the searing pain as her lungs burned for air and the headache as her brain began to shut down.  She was glad for what she'd done and she went limp.  She waited until he laid her in the dirt; careful not to flutter an eyelash.  She let him step over her and begin to roll her body to the edge.  The cliff began crumble.  She felt him pushing her closer so she would actually fall on her own.  As her body began to shift, she grabbed his shirt at the chest and finished rolling into nothing.  Together they tumbled over the side; falling.  Her belly tightened like she was on a rollercoaster.  Her mouth was dry as sawdust.  They were both screaming.  He clung to her in disbelief and horror.  Her climbing harness caught and pulled tight.  It ripped her away from him, hugging the woman angrily to its own rocky bosom.  Alan's body began to dance and shatter against the rocks below as he had planned for Jayne.  She hung quietly for a few minutes then began to slowly ease herself up to the top where she unhooked her gear and sat once again on the raw cliff.  She stared sadly at the crimson stain growing at the base of the rock.

"You can go on without me now Alan." she said dangling and kicking her feet playfully like a small child.  "You just needed a little push."

 The bald eagle flew from its perch; the only witness to this tragic ending.  Jayne stood, brushed her memories and guilt away with the dirt and dust and hiked to the trail head where Neil would meet her. She hummed her BeeGees tune quietly.


I liked this one; especially the little snag at the end (pun intended). I know I don't normally post mid-week but this one came along easily and I just thought it would be fun to spend a little time together before the weekend.

I hope you smiled, enjoyed my story and spending a little time with me.  I'm glad you came. 

Until next time, be good to yourself.

Moving Day

He stood small and uncertain at the edge of the drive still smelling the stale cigarrettes of the woman's car who drove him here. He coughed and dug the toe of his sneaker into an ant hill.  He had no home so why should they? The insects scurried and swarmed; rapidly, desperately trying to save their home and community; their family.  He wondered what that would be like; to have a family, a home.

"Well, let's do this Jason." came the raspy voice of the smokey woman.  Her hair was frizzy and gold; not blond but gold.  Her face was a wrinkled canvas for too much make up.  It' looked like war paint. He glanced over at her as she applied an unecessary third (fourth? fifth?) coat of red lipstick and smacked her lips making a creamy noise. The smile that came to his lips was misread.

"I have a good feeling about it too my boy." and with a hand firmly clapped on the back of his ten year old neck she steered him toward the door of the new happy homestead.  Jason didn't bother to tell her he didn't share her sentiments; real or fake.

The house was so bright and cheerful, Jason thought he'd be sick.  It was a buttery yellow with green shutters that looked like they wanted to wink him right on in and gobble him up for a "healthy and happy hello".  The door, which matched, was yawning open spewing forth small children and toys as if a gumball machine had lost its stopping abilities. There was noise and laughter as the sun smiled down on these little people.  He didn't buy one glimpse. Nobody could be this happy.

"Wow" exhaled Smokey in a waft of coffee and nicotine.  He winced and turned away from the stink as she rubbed her teeth with her finger and smoothed her front.  A Barbie Doll grin appeared and she propelled them both forward. It unfortunately did not go unnoticed by the tiny tribe who descended voraciously on the strangers.

"Hi. Hello? Hello there? Miz Doyle? Hello? OOOO hello there to you too! Ha ~ yes well aren't you sticky? Ooo what's that all over you? Jelly? Oh how lovely! Breakfast al fresco! Well Honey don't touch. Eww Don't don't Don't.. Ohh please Honey I don't want to hold you ~ no no no I can't carry you. I DO see your dollie.  No I don't want to ... WHAT IS THAT SMELL? Holy sh..."

Jason sucked in his lips to control the gufaw bubbling up from his chest.  Smokey stubbed her fire stick on the ground and stood on tip toes as if the children were stagnant water on the rise.

"Yes?" came a quiet voice from near the mouth of the house.

"Oh OH hiiiiiii..." Smokey oozed thrusting her hand out and grinned wide enough to show ALL of her teeth from behind the bright red slash of her lips.  Jason thought he could see her disdain for the woman with all the children in her charge. "I'm Lisa.  We spoke on the phone about this fine young boy here; Jason. Jason? Jason. Say hello to Ms Doyle.  She has been kind enough to let you bunk in for a bit." She stood a little straighter as if she had just solved the world's problems; all of them; and was waiting for the rousing applause.

"Hullo" he said to the dirt.  The tiny tribe had circled around behind them and pretended to play but they were surveying him closely; as a potential new playmate or supper he was not sure.

"Hi Jason. Nice to meet you." Ms Doyle smile gently and stuck out her hand.  It was soft and warm.  "I understand you like Magik?"

The boy grinned "Yeah. I don't have many cards...left..after..."

"Well don't you worry. I happened to pick up some when i heard you were coming.  Would you like to see your room?"

"Sure." He looked up and the woman seemed to understand his thoughts.

"You won't have to share with the indians.  Half of them aren't even staying here.  They just ... show up."

"Great! Well isn't THIS fantastic?" Smokey butted in with more fake smiling and side stepping of the little gnomes pawing at her.  jason thought he saw a smear of strawberry jam down the back of her leg. He grinned a little brighter.

Ms Doyle eyed her with disappointment and turned away with a dismissive nod.  "I will help him get moved in Lita."

"Lisa." she pouted.

"Mmhmm I'm sure." and she turned her away, took Jason gently by the arm and rolled her eyes once she was certain he was the only one who could see her. "Can't stand that woman." she mouthed, opening her mouth as wide as it would go like a perverse clown smile and made a huge circle around her lips. They barely held their laughter.

"It isn't perfect and there are rules to obey Jason.  But it will be all right.  Better than where you came from."

"I hope so." he confided at last.

Smokey was left alone in the drive with the tiny tribe which encircled her and repeated their assault.  It drove her back to her car and with a puff from a fresh cigarrette and an overzealous wave, she was gone.

Jason stood at the doorway and looked around.  The house was pretty neat considering all the kids running around and the toys laying about.   He noticed some angry gouges in the walls that needed a friendly coat of paint. The furniture was "loved" to say the least.  There were bare spots and the cushions seemed to frown from their seats but it was okay.  It could be safe here.  Safer than the drug fueled, shit-hole that had been his home before.  He rubbed his arm absently feeling the memories which had been burned there by his mother or one of her boyfriends while they had been high.

Ms Doyle broke his concentration:

"All right partner. Up against the wall" she said in a poorly twanged voice. Jason turned to a pointing camera  "Moving Day always gets a photo." And she clicked quickly.  He was certain his eyes were shut or his mouth was contorted into some sort of dorky grin.  She stepped back and smiled again.  "Niiiice but let's try again okay?" This one was decidedly better.  She showed him and they both approved.  I'll print it out and put it with the others.  Welcome to the family." She patted his back gently and led him to a back bedroom. He looked down the hall at all the faces; children they'd helped.  He began to feel good. Hope sparked warm under his ribs.

"Your palace Sire" she grinned and opened the door.  It was small and simple with a bed that had a couple of packs of Magik cards resting in the middle.  A warped dresser with dark red handles sulked in the corner. Paint had dripped and dried like trails of blood down the front.  A tiny closet peered at him with snaggled hangers and a crooked door that scraped and screamed as he opened it and turned on the light.

"It's not perfect, but the kids wanted to help welcome you. I'll let you get settled and then we'd like to see you at the table for lunch.  Hollar if you need anything."

And she was gone.  He didn't have much to unpack, just his medicine for the last of his wounds and what few clothes he was able to grab when he ran that night.  He put his stuff in the dresser and hung up what couple shirts he needed to.  He took off his shoes and put them in the closet.  Then took them out and shut the door.  He laid on his bed and looked at the Magik cards Ms. Doyle had bought.  They were actually pretty decent.  She had to have researched which ones to pick up.  He smiled, grateful that someone had been nice to him.  He sat quietly and listened to the other kids playing.  He hadn't heard noise like that in ... he couldn't remember.  The noises he was most used to involved "favors"; all sorts of them. And yelling. Lots of that.  Swearing. TONS of that. And crying.  But that... was mostly his. He looked around his new home, room, and tried imagine a life.  A chill slipped into the room, cool and slimy. It coated his skin leaving him almost shivering.  It appeared that the closet had begun to bulge and the door slowly popped open; like the button on the pants of a fat man after Thanksgiving dinner.  Jason stood, suddenly needing the comfort of the tiny tribe. He quickly left his room and joined the family at the table for sandwiches which he gobbled, enjoying the site of clean food; worlds apart from what he had so often had peeled out of dirty trash bins behind restaurants or homes after dark. His stomach was full and happy.

The day continued with new things; rules of picking up and keeping things neat.  Rules about laundry and eating, sharing and homework. Rules about night time inspections (a review of their understanding and accomplishment of above rules), prayers, not swearing, lights out and bedtime.  Jason was tired after all of that.  So he didn't mind hitting it at his designated time of 9:00.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was then that he felt it; or rather, he heard it inside his soul.  There was a sense of dread that seemed to make him smaller; withered with fear.  The shadows that crawled in were not of windswept branches or stark street posts from the neighborhood outside but sinouy disjointed monsters promising flesh wrecking devastation rather than sweet dreams.  Jason was petrified.  They called to him from his closet and from under the bed introducing themselves and assuring him of many more visits until at last he would beg them to take not merely his life but his very soul.

Morning sun tried to rescue him, but the thoughts and visions were cemented in his chest where they weighed heavily.  He had almost no conversation for the tribe at breakfast and had less energy to move along in his day.  Ms Doyle gave him wide berth but watched carefully.

"Everything all right?"

The boy wiped his face of fatigue and worry and hoped his small smile would suffice. "Fine. S'all good."

"Slept all right?" she asked quietly.

"Always tough the first night in a new place. Ya know?"

She nodded slowly and moved along.  He was grateful.

The rest of the day he spent prowling the neighborhood. It was Saturday so he was getting a sneak peek at where other kids were so he could hopefully make friends; real friends that wouldn't tell him he'd need to take a package somewhere or be on watch some time. He was excited to see so many kids his age.  He saw them playing baseball or riding skateboards. He wanted to be like them and be around them; no guns no threats or colors to wear...

Night came all too quickly and as he passed inspection two nights in a row, he was given a little extra time before lights out with an added snack.  He gladly sat with Ms Doyle and her husband (they had asked him to call them Ms and Mr D for now) marveling over just how much talent there WAS in America thanks to Howie Mandel and the gang.

"All right then, off you go Sir" came the dreaded call.  He grimaced and stood to take his bowl out and wash it before heading in.

Again Ms D watched him.  "You all right?"

"Yep."

"Gnight. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite." said Mr D pleasantly.  He was already scanning the guide for their next programme.

"Not worried about bed bugs..." the young boy trailed.

"What?"

"Nothing."
,
"Jason, what did you say?"

"I'm not worried about bed bugs."

The adults looked at him and glanced at each other.

"Not here. Not anymore." he added trying to shift the discomfort that was seeping in to the room.

"Ah" they both smiled with a nod and went back to their television.

He wandered down the hall, got ready for bed and gladly said his prayers, asking for quiet and peace and no monsters.  God must have been busy elsewhere.

It was late and the house was dark; quiet. the closet had popped open and the voices began.  They wanted him to get out of bed and come to them.  They promised an easier time if he did that.  Otherwise they would have to spend each night coming a little closer, taking apart his sanity "oh so slowly".  If he just came to them now, it would be quick.

"What do you want?"

"You"

"Why?"

" What's in here belongs to us.  The others can tell you that when you get here." that was followed by a low growl or maybe a laugh that froze the blood in his veins.

"A lot of others?"

More laughing. "Come now. Don't make it worse than it has to be."

"Will you get all of us?"

"All of you?" they seemed puzzled by this.

"In the house.  The little kids too." for a moment he thought of the tiny tribe and how terrified they must be at night.

"THIS is ours not yours.  This is where we... collect . What is in here belongs to us." It repeated.  A shadow poured slowly from the closet. It slunk along the carpet making no noise except for a hungry wet sound that snuck under Jason's skin and sent horror charging through his body.  He balled up under the blankets and poked his fingers in his ears.  He began to pray loudly and command the entity leave in the name of all that was Holy.

"Holy?" it laughed at him. "There is nothing left here that is Holy.  Your God will not come in here.  Pray if you like, but you will eventually kneel before OUR shadows, our teeth and hunger. You will pray for what is beyond death and what you believe to be a heaven.  You will pray... for nothing." And whatever had crept up beside the bed suddenly sprang up at the edge of the blankets; smiling with its mouth; narrow but loaded with sharp rows of teeth from which stinking flesh hung loosely.  It's breath was the foulest air Jason had ever smelled; filled with death and desperation; a sweet mixture of rotted skin and the youth it had been ripped from countless times.  "Hands" slipped up and over his sheets to lay cold gnarled fingers upon his leg almost as if to check it for plumpness as if the boy were a berry in need of picking.  There was no nose only a gash that dripped a crimson mud.  Its eyes were filled with what he thought were writhing maggots but as he stared at them he realized and understood they were the eyes of the dead; the children before him looking back from within their hellish stinking prison.

The scream erupted from his toes and sailed through this body like lightening.  His throat was almost instantly dry and cracking; so painful and filled with terror was it, that it brought tears to his eyes.  He was trying to scream for help, he was begging for light, for the police, for anything but it all just came out as a jumbled shriek that brought the Doyles to his door.  They scrambled with the lock and threw it open slicing the dark room with light and concern.

"My LORD Jason! What's all the NOISE? It's so late... What is going ON..." Mr D was rubbing his face and shaking his head of sleepy cobwebs.

Jason heard the laughter from the closet as Ms D hurried to his side and wiped the tears and sweat from his forehead.

"Are you sick? A nightmare?" she asked checking him for fever, rash, pulling his cheeks down as if he were hiding some strange illness in the bottoms of his eyelids.

"A monster. There in my closet. What is wrong with this place. And... why did you lock my door?" he hadn't realized it at first. They had needed to unlock his door from the outside.

She lowered her hand and looked blankly at him.  "What?"

"You lockthe door? From the outside? You lock me IN HERE... why?"

"We do it for your own safety bud. We don't want you wandering off in the night."

"In the past, Jason, not all of our new family members, liked it here."

"I can guess why ..."

"We had to install the lock so that we KNEW they were safe."

"That YOU were safe you mean."

No one said anything.

"No Jason. To keep our family intact.  To keep us all together." they soothed.  Ms D smiled sweetly and pulled the covers over his chest encouraging him to lie down.  She wiped at his forehead again.  Mr D stepped over and tousled his hair.

"Quite a scare my dear boy.  Let's dream about other things for the rest of the night. Ponies? Lollipops? Naked girls?"

"BRIAN MATTHEW!" roared Ms D and she slapped him twice. Hard.

He shrugged smiled at Jason and wiggled his eyebrows.  "Just seems better. Doncha think?"

"Ha. Yeah. I guess.  I'll try." he sighed and tried to relax.  Mr D turned out the light.  Ms D stood.

"Ms D?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"Can you leave my door open?"

Her shoulders sank. "No Honey. We can't.  Rules. Want the light on?"

"I guess."

And she did just that, pulling and locking it as she went out.  "G'night Jason.  We'll see you in the morning."

"I hope." he said softly.

What sleep he did snatch from the night was spotted with visions of his own death at the hands of the creeping monsters.  He woke frequently and startled but had no further visits. Fatigue filled his shoes making them almost too heavy to wear as he loped down the hall.

"MORNING." Ms D chirped.

He slid into a chair and rested his elbow on the table and his head in his hand.  A gruff clearing of his throat and an "Are you serious?" glare from Mr D caused him to pull back and shrink in to his seat.  Breakfast was barely touched. It was Sunday so that meant church.  He sat and prayed quietly hoping that God would hear him in His own House.

The week brought school and new people;  all were pretty cool.  They wanted to hear about the city boy; the tough kid (who really wasn't). He actually liked the school where there were no security bars on the windows or police in the halls.  He enjoyed eating lunch with other kids instead of having to give it to a bully and get beat up anyway.  He didn't mind the homework or the lessons that the teachers seemed to care about; or the kids; the friends he made. As time went on, Ms D allowed some of the guys to come over and he was even invited to their homes to hang out, play video games or just bullshit... hang out ... was the preferred term.  His two best friends were DJ and Mark.  They lived just up the block and were quickly thick as thieves. Jason was almost smitten with the beautiful life and happiness that was handed to him.  Free of charge almost... except for the nights. When the door was locked and the Doyles ignored him.  They almost seemed surprised to see him each morning.  Not that Jasone wasn't as well.  The monsters spent most nights perched around his bed pulling at his blankets, scratching at his skin and telling him soon he would REALLY come home. He loathed their cold hard hands that pulled his hair and poked his nose.  He gagged,at the smell they brought with them.  He feared their eyes that never blinked and watched him, enjoyed watching him cry and beg for them to just leave him alone. At last one night, maybe a month into his night terrors as they were politely addressed by the family, he asked why they hadn't already snatched him from his bed and done all the wretched things they'd promised.  He kept asking, unsatisfied with their ghoulish ominous but vague reply of "It's not time yet."

"So why not? You don't want my soul?  You say you do.  so just come get it already.  I won't fight you."  He leaned back and gripped the sheets hoping they wouldn't take him up on his offer.

"You're not dead yet.  You're not even sick like the others."

"Soooo you what, mercy scare?" he was tired of the games and wondered if perhaps the tribe was fooling him over the past month or so.  He became brazen. "You say all those things but you've neve done anything to me." He could feel anger and hate pulsating throughout the room like a frightening boombox. The monster from the closet slithered up and into the bed, sitting directly in front of him.  Keeping itself about the same size as Jason, it took his hands, held them together with one hand and placed its other over his face.  Jason felt it almost latch on to his skull.  His head seemed to fill with salty, burning mucous that stomped behind his eyes and gave him a much closer view of what was to be or had been.  He saw boys and girls whimpering and crying; frail and weak under these same blankets in this same room.  They cried and begged for it to stop for the nightmares and the visits to end. They asked to be taken from this place...something Jason hadn't done.  He had been in such a horrible place before that the monsters couldn't make him hate THIS more.  It wasn't worse than he'd survived. He was too strong.  But then the monster showed him down the hall; the little ones.  And jason grew angry.  They issued the threat that they WOULD seek others if he didn't cooperate. It was part of the bargain that had been struck in the house.  All of these thoughts came as shadowy visions and greasy words of explanation.

"What bargain?"

"To keep the family together."

And Jason understood everything; the tiny tribe sacrificed loners and unfortunates; those, like him who would not be missed so theirs was a family which remained whole and untouched. The family WAS surprised to see him each morning; and disappointed. It made him sad because he loved it here. He devised a plan and spoke freely to the goblins.  He struck another deal.  It would take trust but he thought it could happen.

The next several days were spent with his buddies.  At first they were skeptical of the wild tale their new friend told but then came the overnight after much begging of Ms D.  He figured that with the monsters so late of payment, perhaps she could get a three for one special and be satisfied.

The boys waited but at last heard the closet door; felt the frigid air and whiffed the stench that would soon come to them.  Jason reached out to his friends and told them to stay strong, love their families; that ist WAS after all, after him.  The goblin came and popped up, excited and hungry eyes traveled over the boys. It pinched and scratched.  The boys gasped and shifted away.  At last they understood Jason's plan, their roles in it and they agreed.

It was a Wednesday when everything was at last in place.  He went to school as usual. He did his homework at the table per norm.  Dinner was without incident as was bathtime. Then he kicked it into high gear. As the tiny tribe got their turn in the tub, he went and fetched their greatest loved toys.  He put them on his bed and waited for storytime which had become his duty.  They all piled in; glad to be in the oldest bedroom ~ a top secret castle unto itself according to them. And he read; several books actually and let them cuddle up and fall asleep. "Little angels" he chuffed and put the desk chair under the handle, turned out the lights and waited.

It didn't take long to hear the closet pop open and see the shadow slough along the carpet to the bed.  Sensing something different about the room, it crept around the bed, bumping it several times before peering up over Jason's blankets.  The little ones began to stir.  The monster began to count and by the growling, grow hungry.  It didn't take long for the screaming to start.  Then Jason quickly moved over to the door and braced the chair.  His tormentor was so enamored by the helpless little ones on the bed that it ignored what Jason was doing.  The pounding began; Mr and Ms D throwing themselves agains the door, hammering at it with their fists and screaming to be let in.  Jason yanked open the door and the two adults fell into the room.  The goblin pulled back and watched as the room filled with bodies.  The invisible boy ducked out quickly and pulled the keys which had been left in the lock. Then he heard the shouting; the angry turning fearful and at last, hopeless. There was only a little screaming but he thought he heard a lot of chewing and tearing.  He stopped at the bathroom and grabbed his pack, heading down to DJ's where the boys waited.  They gave him all the money they had.  He had a little more stashed in his pocket. He waved to his friends and began to wander through the night to a new place, a new home. 

It was moving day.


I confess I have fought with this for weeks.  I am tired of it and I just had to wrap it up and post it. Bah! This went WAY beyond a labor of love. It became a burden and I am none too impressed with it. But it has its moments and strong points so I don't despise it. At least it's off my plate and I can move forward with some other things I have found and want to try.  Thanks for coming over. I hope you had a nice time sitting here with me.  You're company is always so nice.

The Dream

Her vision was blurred but there was no mistaking feeling of dread; like a hot stone sinking inside her chest, burning her heart.  The pain took her to the brink of choking; gasping but she remained seated; still.  Along the back of her neck, dusting her ears came the whispers.  They were light, soft and filled with venom. She pinched her eyes shut behind the veil and willed her ears to ring and drown them out. Vicki couldn't take one more word.  She felt stuffed with sympathy and tears. She was on the verge of exploding in to a screaming rage that would tell them all to go to Hell and to leave her alone.  She didn't want their greasy hands touching her arms or holding her hands to reassure her.  She couldn't bear the thought of one more "I"m so sorry." Her ribs threatened to break apart and spill out all the sorrow she was holding in; too afraid and angry to let it out to be seen by anyone.  Steve had left her alone.  He had promised forever and now that wasn't true. He was gone. There would be no retirement, empty nesting or rocking chairs on the porch.  Gone was the hope of cruising the country in their large motor home meeting new people and camping with their dogs. There would be no children or weddings or graduations; no knock-down drag out fights for the sake of hot make-up sex. She had lost her best and favorite playmate.  She wanted Steve to be here ... at his own funeral so they could giggle and laugh; so he could make her feel strong and beautiful because at the moment, she had never felt so alone, terrified and weak. Vicki sat perfectly still, praying all the pain and grief wouldn't cling to her like gum from the sidewalk on a summer day that she would carry home. She was hoping to leave it all in the dirt marked by a cold etched stone. Now her eyes filled with warm tears. They snuck over the edge of her lashes to streak down her cheeks. Bowing her head, she felt a hand touch her arm accompanied by a soft bump

"Vicki?"

She looked up confused by the sound of the voice and gazed around. She was in the limo now.

"Vicki, honey, we're at the church.  Are you ready?"

She looked down at her hands holding flowers. Through the veil, she saw familiar faces all smiling and laughing.  At first she furrowed her brow and scowled, finding their displays callous and sick.  Next to her was her sister in a lovely formal gown and a smaller version of her own bouquet and on the steps across the street was her father in a tux. Waiting.  Already wiping his eyes.

"Awful." she said quietly, blotting her eyes; "Awful dream."

"What honey?"

She shook her head wanting to clear it and bring it around to what should be the happiest day of her life. She watched as everyone began to swat playfully to shoo her fiance' up the steps and into the House of God. She smiled nervously. It was all going to happen. She was starting her life. He was there. Steven. His strong arms to hold her, his sense of humor, his warm eyes, his kisses; forever and ever. Amen.

"Nothing." and the smile spread.  She felt the sick warm paste in her belly turning to flitting butterflies.  she started to anticipate the evening, the honeymoon, her new role as Missus right next to the man of her dreams.

"Let's do this." she said to the girls all waiting for her reaction to set it off. The bride reached for the handle as the chauffeur opened the door.  Everyone grinned from their foreheads to the tips of their shoes.  The camera began to click and flash.  She blinked, smiled and waved to everyone she loved.

The truck never slowed; hitting the limousine at a whopping 40mph making the stretched out car look like a stumpy boomerang. Glass burst into the air like jagged fireworks.  Bending crumpling metal screeched as tires smoked and lubbed to a stop.  There was shouting. Above her appeared his face, Steven.  Vicki thought rain was streaking her forehead and remembered hearing it was good luck; rain on your wedding day. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw his tears.  His hands and arms gathered as much of her as he could, pulling her to him. They sat in the road; this battered bride and pristine groom, a symbol of all that a life together is; uncertain, messy, vulnerable.  He sang softly to her their song which was to play later that evening after they were man and wife. he kept kissing her face.  People, like gnats buzzed around; each attaching themselves to the net and either taking photos for Instagram, vine or Facebook or calling someone to be the first to tell them of the horrible tragedy about to upload to Youtube.

There were sirens and flashing lights. Vicki reached up and touched Steven's face.  He smiled and gently kissed her again.  

"The dream." she whispered. But in her ears it echoed like a thousand gunshots

"What dream Baby?" Steven was looking around and rocking back and forth. "Someone HERE. SHE'S HERE"

"I dreamt I was at a funeral."

"No Honey. Our wedding. Today is our wedding." His voice was jagged and hitched. "You are my wife."

"Not yet." she chided and tried to show him her left hand.  Steven screamed for someone. Vicki tried to understand why he was so angry on their wedding day.  She was only teasing. She thought his nerves were getting the best of him.  He would relax and be better at the reception she hoped.  "I just need to rest. So. tired." She was aware of a heavy warmth spreading through her body.

"No not yet. No Vicki. Wait..." and she felt a jabbing pain as he grabbed at her hand and slid the ring over her finger. "Don't leave me. You're my wife.  We are supposed to be together."

"Forever." she finished.

He kissed her hand tasting bitter cold metal. She closed her eyes and blew him a kiss tainted with sad, dark blood. The emergency crew arrived and pulled her away from him; trying to help her hang on. It was impossible.

His sobs floated into the sky like the doves they were to release after their vows.  Even now, at her graveside he could barely stand. People whispered condolences. They touched his arm and he did all he could to not pull away. He missed her so much; his rock, the one woman who understood his humor, who made him feel smart and strong. He stared at the gaping hole in the ground and the stone that would be placed above her.

"How could you leave me?" the shattered groom lowered his head and others began to whisper as his shoulders shook with grief and despair.

The wind blew coolly through the trees rattling those that were already dried and fragile.  Steven smelled her perfume; probably her mother or a sister, he thought absently.  He swore that he heard her voice tickle the back of his neck. He took a ragged breath and dropped her favorite flower next to her grave.  With all his effort, he began to walk; passed a life that never was, a woman who couldn't be his, and a dream unreachable.



How's that grab ya? Not a cheery tale at all, but I still liked it.  I had a horrible dream one night and had to write it down and twist it around a little. I needed to get rid of it. Thanks for visiting.  I am trying to get back here more often.  With all that's going on, I need the outlet and feel better spending a little time with you all. 

Well I hope you had a grand weekend. I am gearing up for football and have my picks ready for today. I can hardly wait.This year, I hope to reclaim my trophy. 

May the wins be with you. :)
See you soon.