My Book of Short Stories

My Book of Short Stories

A Kitty Cat

MY NARRATIVE:

I have created 3 stories that express what it's like to own a cat. It's the animal that I would choose if I chose to own a pet.

In my religion, it's not lawful to have a dog except as a guard dog, or for hunting. And a fish isn't something that one can bond with much; and I wonder what they feel like being in such a small space. And I don't feel that comfortable caging a bird.

A cat is the perfect pet for me. They are so precious, so cuddley, so friendly. I don't own a cat at this time. But I know it's a great experience.........

MY KITTY CAT:

A, curly haired, red headed, boy sat at a desk in his room. It was a weekday; and the table was covered with school books, and notebooks. He hovered over a piece of paper with his name, Robert Lawrence, written at the top of it, a pencil in his hand as he scribbled down answers to math problems. As he, quietly, studied and did his work, a fluffy, white, cat hopped up onto the desk.

"Hi, Pearl," the boy greeted, rubbing his hand over the cat's fur. She purred in delight.

"Dinnertime!" his mother shouted from downstairs.

The boy closed his books and rushed downstairs. He would have dinner and then come back to finish his work. He carried Pearl downstairs with him.

Pearl was always fed before Robert and his family had dinner. Still, Pearl would come into the kitchen and rub up against his leg to get food from his plate. He'd always give her bits and pieces of his food.

That night in his bed, Pearl lay beside him as always. Nighttime was a time of bonding between the two of them. He ran his hand through her fur as she twisted and turned in delight. Sometimes, their eyes met; and, once, when they did, he lowered his head to touch his nose to hers.

Another special time of bonding was when Robert would take Pearl outside to play. Sometimes, she would climb a tree and he would follow. Other times, he would toss a ball around and watch her chase it. And, other times, Robert would tease her with a spool of yarn which he would hold out of her reach and watch her paw at the air, standing on her hind legs, trying to reach it.

No matter what friends came into Roberts life, he knew he would never have another friend like Pearl.

BACK TO MY NARRATIVE:

A cat is one of those creatures that tend to show unconditional love. Their energy effects your body and spirit as you touch them, rub your hands over their fur, and hold them. When you look into their eyes as they look back at you, it produces feelings of love and affection.

The feelings and satisfaction you get from catering to their needs as they pay you back with so much love and tenderness is unmatched by anything else in life. Caring for a pet like a cat has a therapeutic effect so real that having such a pet as a cat is recommended by doctors.....

LOVE IS SHOCKING:

Richard Braxton sat in his car just watching as Stacy Truman, his wife of eleven years, walked out of a restaurant hugging and kissing another man. He'd been at the restaurant for hours. Earlier he'd been sitting inside watching as she'd laughed and flirted with this man in front of, maybe, twenty or thirty people. No tears came to his eyes. He'd cried a many times over his cheating wife. By now, he was too immune to this.

Back home, he would still ask her where she was just to see what she'd say.

"I just stopped by my friend Macy's house. She's going through something with her husband and needed my company. I was there for hours."

"So, if I call Macy, she'll tell me that's where you were, right?"

"What kind of relationship do we have that you're going to call and check up on me? Aren't you supposed to be trusting me?"

"I tried that."

As Richard grabbed the phone, Stacy screamed and shouted her pleas and her excuses why he shouldn't be calling her friend, grabbing at his arm as if she could stop him. When he called Macy and got the answer he knew he would, that Stacy had been nowhere near Macy's house, Stacy had lots of excuses; but Richard was far from ready to listen. He turned and went up the stairs to their bedroom where he closed the door in her face locking it behind him.

All showered up, dressed, and ready for bed, Richard sat up under the covers in his bed thinking about all the things about Stacy that caused problems in their relationship.

Stacy didn't seem to know how to keep house. So, unless he hired a maid, or cleaned up, himself, the house would be a pigsty. She didn't cook. And she was costly. It cost him thousands of dollars every month to keep her. The money went towards her nails, her hair, outfits, shoes, jewelry. Then there was the money he had to spend on a therapist who wondered why he was with her in the first place. The only reply he ever had was beauty, sex, and the Beauty and the Beast complex.

Richard was a very successful, well educated, and experienced medical doctor. He was pretty attractive. He had a great personality, and a great heart. So, every one of his family members, every friend he had, and every person he met on the street wondered why he stayed with Stacy.

Richard owned a private medical facility in a little neighborhood across town. Most of his patients lived there. And his building sat amidst over a hundred residential houses, or more, distinguishable by the glass doors and windows with letters and numbers upon them that told the hours of the building, the building name, and other important information.

Every day that Richard passed through the neighborhood, he noticed a black cat that wandered here and there through the area. But he never paid much attention to it. However, when he opened the doors of his medical building, one day, with his hands and arms filled with things concerning his work, the cat rushed in past him. With so many things in one arm and the door in his other, he was powerless to stop the cat at the door.

The cat had seen him many times before. This time, he must have decided to follow him. Richard hurried inside the building and dropped his things on the desk where his receptionist sat. Then he rushed after the cat.

His receptionist, Sheila, had not seen the cat from where she sat behind the desk and stood to see why Richard was stooped over rushing past. When she saw the cat, she, immediately, rose to help Richard. That was not the last time that the cat followed Richard. After that incident, it followed him every day until one day he decided to feed it and give it a name. He named it Thomas.

Richard fed Thomas off and on for weeks. It was one day when Thomas rubbed up against his leg as he was unlocking the door of his office that he decided to let him in the building. He soon found himself buying a litter box, cat food, and cat toys. Sometimes, alone in his office, Richard took a spool of yarn, or some other object, or toy and played with Thomas. Soon, everyone who came to the building regularly knew Thomas. Then, one day, Richard decided to take Thomas home.

"Are you crazy? That cat's not going to do anything but poop everywhere, tear up the furniture, and leave dead things all over the place!" Stacy protested.

Richard was mostly uninterested in her opinion; and he never even looked at her as he was putting Thomas' things away in the house and as she followed him around with her complaints. "He's not going to poop anywhere as long as the litter box isn't left full; and he doesn't leave dead things everywhere."

"How do you know that? How long have you had this cat?"

"We've been taking care of him at my office for, around, three months, now."

Richard never left Thomas home never wanting him to be alone with Stacy; so, he, normally, brought him to work.

Sheila, the receptionist, was minorly concerned. "Is everything alright at home with you, Dr. Braxton?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Because, you keep bringing your pet to work."

"Didn't I find him at work?"

"Sure. But I thought once you took him home, you'd keep him home. And I notice that you spend so much time with him. You seem disturbed about something, too."

Richard was disturbed. Since he got his cat, he wasn't spending time with his wife much, nor did he think about her much; and he wondered if he would have even noticed that about himself much if she wasn't complaining so much about it.

One day, at work and after hours, when every patient, his assistant, and Sheila was gone, the phone rang on his desk. He answered it. "Hello."

"I'm leaving you, Richard. I found another man. His name is Ralph Patterson; and he notices me, spends time with me; and no dumb cat can come between us."

Richard sat back in his chair; and for an hour he just sat still in the same position and thinking. Then, suddenly, he developed a headache. His stomach began to turn. He rushed to the restroom. Standing over the toilet, he threw up. He rose up and walked over to the sink to wash his face. As he dried the water from his face, he found that the moisture of his tears remained.

Richard made an appointment to see his therapist immediately after Stacy left him.

"I can't believe it wasn't you leaving her. Mr. Braxton, we need to think long and hard about what would cause you to let a woman like that be the first to leave the relationship. And what's upsetting you so much about her being gone."

"I don't understand. I just couldn't conscentrate on her once I got the cat. I just don't get it. The cat came first. Why wasn't she important to me anymore?" Richard responded, staring up at the wall from where he lay on his therapists couch.

"Why should someone like her have been important to you in the first place?"

"No matter what she did to me. I can't stand not caring. And there was just no feeling. After the call, when she told me she was leaving, I just couldn't get myself to care."

"Well, now, I think we're getting somewhere, here. You're upset that, after you got the cat, you no longer cared for her. A little time with a cat stopped you from depending on her. It catered to your emotional needs giving you the strength to let her go; and you're not happy with that. But bonding with pets is very therapeutic. Getting a pet has been recommended by doctors to patients that have emotional problems like depression and anxiety. Richard, you should be happy about this. Why aren't you happy?"

"Because, I didn't understand. But, now, I, finally, do. You've made it very clear to me. This cat was a part of my fate; and my fate was to, eventually, be happy. Thanks for your advice, Doc."

BACK TO MY NARRATIVE:

One characteristic of a cat is being a protector. There have been many cases where an animal has saved the life of a human being. Animals are some of the greatest heroes. Aside from the unconditional love a cat shows us, they are also creatures that guard and protect............

LILY

Cool breezes blew back and forth; and a grey but rainless sky covered the earth and a little wooden house sitting before a grassy plain. At the end of the plain was a wood where the trees blew back and forth with the wind.

Ten year old Elizabeth poked the stick in her hand back and forth towards the ground as she walked through the wood. The air was so relaxing especially with the breezes; but, no matter how the weather was, Elizabeth loved to walk through the wood. There was so much to do, things to find, and so much that put an imagination to good use. This time, she heard a soft purring sound coming from behind a tree to her left. She made her way over to find a lovely grey cat. She grabbed it and rushed home.

Elizabeth did not see the man she passed by just as she hadn't seen his shadow nearby as he'd watched her play with her stick.

"I don't know," said Elizabeth's mother, Caroline, who was standing over a hot stove topped by a pot of gumbo, a pan of boiling broccoli, and a pot of sweet potatoes. The wind blew back and forth through the kitchen window tossing the flowery curtains here and there. Then, suddenly, the sound of thunder cut through the air. The grey sky's promise of rain was finally being proven truthful as drops of rain began to descend from the sky. And Caroline could feel light moisture dropping onto her skin. She walked over and shut the window.

"Oh, Mom, please!" Elizabeth pleaded.

"Wait until your father comes home and ask him. If he says you can keep the cat then, I'll agree."

Elizabeth's father, Ronald, took just a little persuading as he lay back with his feet propped up on the foldout couch in the livingroom. The room was golden from the light of a lamp that sat upon it's stand. The lamp had made the room bright enough for Caroline, on the couch to the right of Ronald, to work on the sweater she was knitting for Elizabeth. And it was bright enough so that Elizabeth could see her father as she sat on the carpet floor pleading.

"Please, Daddy! I know I can take care of Lily. Me and mom discovered that she's a female; and I already named her Lily."

"Taking care of a cat is a big responsibility. Maybe, we should start you off with a gold fish. I'll pick one up for you tomorrow after work."

"No, Daddy! I want to keep Lily. I've already given her a name. I, already, love her so much! Please, let me keep her."

A double glass door that was behind the livingroom couch where Caroline sat, exposed the pouring rain and then, suddenly, the image of a man. Ronald only saw a shadow which made him sit up, abruptly, glancing in the direction of the doors; but the man was gone quicker than his shadow; and, so, Ronald never knew the man had ever been there.

Thinking that it must just be his imagination, Ronald descended back onto the comfort of his couch. "Alright, Honey. Here's what I think we'll do. We'll let you keep the cat for a while and see how things work out. Then, we'll make a choice from there."

"Yay!" Elizabeth hopped up from where she'd been sitting to rush over and throw her arms around her father.

The little wooden house sat in the middle of the plain beneath a dark starry sky. Inside of it, a silver light was the only one that struggled to light up the house. Though it struggled to climb the stairs, it could reach no further than the bottom steps. It made it's way through a hall and as a dim light in the kitchen and diningroom. And it could be seen barely by the front door. If you followed it through the halls and into the livingroom, there you would find it's source - the inside of a, flat screen, television which lit up a livingroom area and was the only reason that anyone could see Caroline sitting on the couch with her husband's head upon her lap as they watched a cowboy movie, and Elizabeth sitting on the floor just beneath them with Lily, completely, disinterested in the movie.

Lily lay, belly up, as Elizabeth rubbed her tummy. Her, green, round, feline, eyes gazed up at Elizabeth surrounded by her, soft, grey, fur. The bonding that came from the eye contact and the energy of the feline's spirit made Elizabeth seem to fall in love with Lily all over again like it could be done more than once without her ever falling out of love with the cat. And she had fallen in love with the cat many times. Luckily, after a month of having the cat she had proven to her father that she was responsible enough to keep her; though, eventually, the whole family took care of Lily. Now, Lily belonged to Elizabeth and her family.

A profound comfort filled the room and the hearts of all it's occupants. An, occasional, sigh of relaxation escaped Elizabeth's breath. No one saw the man peeping through the glass doors behind the couch.

One of the most disturbing thoughts about owning a cat is the idea of cat poop being found here and there on the floor, carpets, and furniture; but what Caroline, her husband, and Lily had found out was that as long as they left a clean litter box on the floor, Lily knew right where to do her business. That was one of the things that impressed Caroline most about having the cat. She seemed clean and considerate.

The cat appeared in the kitchen door as Caroline sipped on some tea thinking about the pleasures she'd experienced since the cat had come into her and her family's lives. She watched the cat come her way with eyes looking directly into hers, and it put a feeling of affection in her heart which got stronger when the cat rubbed up against her legs.

"Hey. Hi, Sweetie. You must be looking for something to eat. Let's see what we have here," she said, as she reached down and ran her hand through the cat's fur.

Stuffed with two pieces of bologna, Lily made her way to the front door and outside the house. She had, unmistakeably, heard the sound of Ronald's voice which meant he was there and she would take advantage of his presence.

She found Ronald sitting on a bench outside the house and picking his teeth with a toothpick as he stared out over the grassy plain. It was time for some bonding with this member of her new family. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily. He grabbed her up and began petting her. He enjoyed the sound of her purring and the tenderness of her body that sent feelings of affection all through him. Then she clawed her way up towards his face to meet his eyes with hers, nearly touching her nose to his. He held her towards him meeting her eyes with his. "That's a good girl," he said, smiling with both his mouth and his eyes and petting her.

A bright, shiny, sun shined through a white rimmed window turning golden a room designed with pink walls, and, lovely, childrens' paintings. The pink room was complemented by white dressers, bookshelves, and doors, and a bed with white rims. The sun's golden layer changed the color of a pink blanket that covered Elizabeth's body on the bed. Lily lay curled up in the middle of it, the new purple collar wrapped around her neck and her body covering the golden pendant that hung from it which had her name and the name of her owners engraved upon it.

Elizabeth's eyes popped open. Her arm rose to her face to shield them from the sunlight. Suddenly, a thought sent her popping up in bed. That same thought sent her rushing to the bathroom to prepare for the day. Today, was the first day of the weekend. Today, Elizabeth would be going into the woods with Lily.

Today, the wood was bright due to the light and color of the sun. There was no rain; and the earth was dry. There was no mud to get onto the spool of yarn Elizabeth threw back and forth. She never tired of watching Lily go chasing after the yarn. And, sometimes, she'd hold the yarn up out of the cat's reach and watch her stand on her hind legs clawing at the air trying to reach it.

As she watched the cat, she felt so much love and happiness. Everything Lily did was so adorable, so precious, and what made Elizabeth fall deeper and deeper in love with her.

Putting the spool of yarn away, Elizabeth lead Lily deeper into the wood for some venturing. With the cat by her side, it was going to be even more fun. Maybe, the cat would find things she would never find. And it would be like going hunting. Either way it went, things were far more interesting with the cat around.

No shadow lay anywhere near Elizabeth this time when the man who'd been watching her before watched her again. And, in a split second, she remembered a cave that she always loved to explore. She decided to go there with her new feline friend. The man watching her made sure that his footsteps made no sound as he followed her.

It was at the cave that he revealed himself. The inside of the cave was dark. It got darker the further one went in. As Elizabeth searched a backpack she'd brought with her for a flashlight, she heard the voice of the man.

"Hi, Elizabeth. How are you doing?"

Elizabeth turned to find a dingy looking, dusty, man at the mouth of the cave. She felt an energy that filled the space around them that was very uncomfortable. Her heart began to beat harder and faster. She could tell she was in danger. And Lily could too. Lily walked up to the man and began to hiss like she could protect Elizabeth and scare him off.

"You know, I see you all the time. I've been trying to work up the courage to approach you. Can I talk to you? I'd like to get to know you."

In the midst of her fear, Elizabeth found her voice and the right words to say, "I'm not allowed to talk to strangers. I need to go home."

"I'm not a stranger, Elizabeth. See how I know your name. I'm a distant relative of your mother's, a cousin. But your grandmother stopped talking to my family. And she didn't tell her kids about us. And I just want to get to know you. Then you can take me home. We can tell your mom how you found me out here. I've been looking for your mom for a long time. I think if you tell her about what a good person I am, she'll want to get to know me. But, first, you have to get to know me."

Elizabeth wasn't buying it. Her heart was still racing; she was beginning to sweat. "No. I want to go home. Please."

"Not yet, Honey. I'm really serious about talking to you. And I'm your adult cousin. I, actually, am an authority to you. Do you know what that is?" The man's voice was harder, strict, threatening when he said those words.

"No!" Elizabeth dashed out hoping to beat her fear, a fear that might make her submit. And then, perhaps, she could make it home before the man could get to her and do whatever he was planning to do. But, as she tried to run past him, he caught her with his arm.

Lily was still hissing at the stranger still hoping to scare him off.

Elizabeth screamed and tried to fight her way free from the man's clutch. The man twisted her around aggressively. "Don't be a bad little girl, Elizabeth, or big cousin will have to spank you!"

Suddenly, Lily thought of a plan. She climbed to the top of the opening of the cave and then jumped at the man's face. She clawed and bit him until he managed to toss her off of him. It gave Elizabeth a chance to get away and run. Lily hurried off towards her with the man chasing after them both. Once they got close enough to the open plain, the man stopped running. Elizabeth ran yelling for her mother. Lily had passed her by on her way to reach the house to get help just in case Elizabeth didn't make it.

That morning officers searched the wood looking for the strange man that Elizabeth had described. After finding him, they found that he had a police record and was a child molester. Ronald arrived home to the news about Elizabeth's experience; and the whole family gathered around Lily, petting her, and expressing their appreciation for her heroic act. They wondered where they would all be without her.

THE END

First Date

The Queen's dinner was designed like the fanciest ballroom - crystal chandeliers, golden walls decorated with diamonds, a golden ceiling and golden floors. On top of that, it had the most delicious foods, with proper speaking, sophisticated, butlers. Only the wealthiest could afford it. But, while he saw the beautiful restaurant out of the corner of his eyes, Wilson Madison couldn't take his eyes off of Fatimah Mubarak. A restaurant such as that was the only type of place he would ever think of taking such a lovely woman. The feelings she put in his soul were, unmistakeably, the attributes of love.

He gazed at her in amazement. She was as beautiful as the restaurant; and he felt he had no choice but to pay attention as she stared at him with her bright eyes past her diamond earrings, and black, curly, hair. The diamonds she wore were from him; since, he wanted to see a woman as beautiful as her in such expensive and beautiful jewelry. And diamonds hung not only from her ears but around her wrists, and around her neck. They went perfectly with her black dress and black high heels. Her flawless makeup was always done by her to perfection; but it, still, could only be what complimented but did not complement her beauty as her beauty was already complete without it.

Fatimah stared back at Wilson for a long time before her head dropped as she blushed due to the way he stared. "You're making me nervous," she said. She grabbed the glass of Merlot that sat before her and took a sip.

"I can't help it. You're gorgeous."

"Well, look what I have to compete with. You are so handsome, yourself," she said. The, brown skinned, Black man was so handsome. And she had never been with a Black man before. This one stood out so much he could not be ignored. That's one of the reasons why it was so hard for the Black woman (Tayana Ross), of the same complexion as him, to bare that Fatimah had away.

She, herself, was of Arab decent; and the women in her family were among the most beautiful of the race from the features of their face all the way down to their, curvy, body shapes.

Tayana had a beautiful body shape and a pretty face; but she could not compete with the thing about Fatimah that promoted curiosity and greater interest in a man such as Wilson. Fatimah was different from what he was used to seeing - in his home, his neighborhood, his life.

"What about her?" asked Fatimah.

"What about who?" said Wilson. They both knew that he knew who she was talking about. And, not long ago, he'd been way more protective of Tayana. He'd hated that this Arab woman could rip his heart and support away from the, beautiful, Black woman who was from the same background as he was. He had wanted to hate Fatimah. But, in a fit of desparation, she had sat Fatimah up to look like she'd cheated on Wilson long before she ever came along, producing false pictures, fake witnesses, and a man to claim he cheated with her. After that, Wilson had dropped any love or respect he had had for Tayana. And it was so easy for him to do with the passion he had for Fatimah. And, after that, he was the one initiating there gatherings while, previous to that, Fatimah had always been the one approaching him.

And she was so bold but still, sometimes, wondered why she felt a coldness towards Tayana, why she was willing to take her man and laugh and mock her inside about it. She wondered why, at times, she was willing to tease her about her advantage with Wilson - touching him, kissing him, or showing some form of affection towards him when Tayana was looking. But she, still, felt guilty; and, even though, she felt guilty, she wondered why she couldn't feel more sympathetic? And would she one day pay the price? Would karma ever find her?

She thought about the pleasures she had with Wilson - all the love making and romance; and he was so good in bed. And, previously, since he'd felt that he belonged with another woman, nothing was ever planned about their gatherings. Fatimah would just seduce him, mainly, in his office in a building where they both worked; and they would make love there. Sometimes, they'd see each other somewhere. She'd, eventually, approach him. They'd end up in her car, or his talking and laughing. Then, eventually, they'd be at her house, or his...... in bed. But now that he was with her guilt free, with nothing to come between them, they were, finally, having their first date.

"You know who I mean, Wilson."

"Have you noticed how beautiful the night is - the stars, the silver moon, the air?"

"What does that have....."

"Don't spoil it!"

Fatimah lowered her eyes humbled by her thoughts and feelings and unable to look at Wilson and say what she was about to say.

"I set her up."

"What?"

"I set Tayana up to look like she cheated on you. I paid fake witnesses, and a man to claim she cheated with him. The pictures I took of them holding each other and kissing was fake and altered, for me, by a photographer."

Wilson sat there staring at her for around thirty seconds. She stared back at him to watch his reaction. Once her words sunk completely into him, he slapped her. His eyes never left hers until he began to rise from his seat to leave. Fatimah grabbed his arm begging and pleading.

"No, Wilson! Don't go! Please! I just didn't want to lose you!"

The feelings inside that made her tell the truth didn't make her ready to let Wilson go back to Tayana. And, somewhere inside, she'd told the truth to see if he would be willing to forgive her, accept something so awful about her, to see if he'd still love her. How deep was his love for her? Only the more apparent reason for her telling the truth was because it was wrong to have lied on Tayana.

Wilson made it to his car. But from there he just sat thinking as Fatimah pleaded with him with her face and hands up against the window. Suddenly, her face went blank as she watched this one tear trickle down his cheek and took in that he was crying. This strong, powerful, man was crying. She had really been powerful enough to drag him out from under a Black woman of such beauty, perfection, and strength. She stood there staring in awe, amazement, and guilt. But, if that wasn't going to make her let him go, then she knew she wasn't going to.

With his head lowered in sadness, Wilson was the only one who could hear the sound of his crying as tears began to flow following what he'd thought would be the only tear. No one could ease his pain. Fatimah would never be able to make it go away - the pain that went along with failing to protect, love, and cherish what was his, beautiful, Black queen and mother of his children. All he could do was see her and his memories inside his mind - memories of when they'd first met, of there first night together, and of different experiences they'd shared that had made them fall in love over and over again.

Then, suddenly, he saw her face. She'd just driven up and was exiting her car right in front of his. There was no telling how she had found out where he was.

The same look on her face that he'd been seeing in her for a while now was still there - red eyes due to constant crying and stress, a tear stained face, an expression of defeat and despair. She grabbed a stick and approached Fatimah. As usual, no one around - not even Wilson - would let her reach Fatimah. In a split second he was near enough to grab her.

In Wilson's arms, where he held her back, she struggled to break lose making threats, "You want to take my man! You want to take my man! I'll stick this stick up your.......!" Her words stopped in mid sentence as she replaced them with a stronger struggle to break free and reach Fatimah. One lick to Fatimah's head would be more effective than the words she left out.

But she would never break free she knew somewhere inside. She sunk back into Wilson's chest with a minor cry coming from her chest and her head to the sky as if she could, somehow, finally, find an answer. She pushed free from Wilson to turn and look at him. "Why? What's so good about this tramp? How could you be letting her come in between us?"

His face was free of the tears but not what allowed her to see what she'd seen many times before; and it was that he had given his all to avoid it. He never meant to leave her; and that made her pain worse. She had failed to be enough to stop this Arab woman from being able to win his heart. But what allowed this Arab woman to have such an advantage over her?

"I love you. I need you, Wilson."

That's when the pain beat against Wilson's chest again as if it wasn't already deep enough inside. Fatimah just stood back watching. She never fought Tayana. Whatever powers she had worked without that. But she could still guess what would come next.

"I love you too, Baby," said Wilson. He grabbed Tayana and dragged her towards her car. "Let's go, Baby. I'll come back for my car later."

Tayana stepped in front of Wilson and, falling against his chest, she wept, holding him tightly. He embraced her tightly; but she could feel in his energy the absence of something that she used to feel. So, now, part of her cries were not that of compassion but that of despair. Still she and Wilson made their way to her car full of crying children peeping through the window at their mother and father. They entered the car. Wilson got in the driver's seat.

"Hand me the keys, Baby."

Tayana grabbed the keys and placed them in his hand as she gazed at him with her heart rising and falling in desire and desparation. Wilson started the car and drove away with his family.

Fatimah watched as the car rode away and then disappeared. But the likes of it had happened many times. She was powerless if he really wanted to leave her. And her nightmares were that he one day would. But, during the day, it just never happened; and those nightmares proved to only be dreams.

In less than four minutes, the car was coming back; and Tayana's screams of emotional pain and torture could be heard on it's way. As Wilson parked the car and got out, the young woman screamed and cried in defeat like always. Standing before Fatimah, Wilson just stood there to let her see........ Let her see the expression that he could not help but let be upon his face and part of his energy. It was an expression of defeat, powerlessness. She had won and taken him from his family. He was gone from his former woman. He was gone despite her cries.

Fatimah just wondered, "Would there ever be consequences?"

To all those people who will wonder

why a Black woman would write this:

It was a fantasy I had from my creative mind

that was like having a nightmare during the day.

I was NOT the woman in the fantasy; but it was a woman

I had created in my mind to stand for how beautiful,

strong, intelligent, etc. that Black women

are. No matter how much the fantasy used to

upset me, it's a very interesting story.

THE END

Only The First Date

Jackson Taylor stared across the table at his date. He stared directly into her eyes. They were the most beautiful things on her face. As he stared, they sat at a round table in a restaurant that they had chosen for their first date. They had known each other for years working in the same building for the same business; but this was the first time they had gone out. It was right after the first time that he had developed the courage to ask her out not knowing that she had, for just as long, wanted to ask him out.

"I've never seen a sight as beautiful as you, Esmeralda Hunter," he said.

Esmeralda blushed. "Thank you. For a long time, I wasn't sure I could compete with your looks, though. You're so handsome."

"That stuns me. I mean, how often do you look in the mirror."

"You really think I'm that beautiful? And is a man such as you really in awe of my beauty."

"Yes. And I've watched you and watched you; and I kept wanting to make it permanent........ the ability to see you every day and watch you. You look like a queen or a princess."

"I never thought of myself that way and will remain in awe that a man such as you can think someone like me is so awesome. I mean, you have the glory of the, shining, north star which guides people's way during the darkest nights."

"Well, my Dear, you are so marvelous that I think the universe looks at you to see something marvelous and significant."

Diamonds adorned Esmeralda from her head to her wrists - from the diamond comb that held her hair together, to the diamond earrings hanging from her ears, and the diamond necklace around her neck, and to the diamond bracelets upon her wrists.

"Your diamonds are beautiful; but they don't shine as brightly as your eyes."

"I would not think of wearing them as much for anyone other than you. And I don't think my eyes shine as much unless I'm looking into yours."

Once finished with their meal, Jackson and Esmeralda exited the restaurant. They would spend the last part of their date walking barefooted by the beach underneath a sky full of stars, a large, silvery, full moon, and the darkest sky which gave the stars and moon their finest shine. They would sip on a single glass of Merlot stained with her beautiful red lipstick.

The sand crawled in between their toes. The wind blew cool breezes upon their bodies and forced the ocean back and forth. The wind and water made a song that was the music of nature.

"This night," Jackson began, "has a greater shine than the stars can produce on their own due to your glory."

"And I've never experienced a night as interesting and pleasurable as this one that has you in it."

"Do you know what I wonder? And I've wondered it since the first time I met you. I wonder how you've avoided constant harrassment. How have you not been followed and harrassed by ordinary people, animals, insects, but especially men because of your outstanding beauty. It seems like even the birds and butterflies would be drawn to you harrassing you throughout the day. Are they all as shy as I was?"

She blushed. "Whatever I escaped, I must have escaped the same way that you did, Beloved. I don't know how a celebrity gets more attention than a man as handsome as you who has the nerve to still have a decent spirit and mind."

They walked on along the beach until they were instinctively inclined to leave. No matter how much they pleased each other, no night could last forever. If they had stayed on the beach, sleep would still, eventually, overpower them, night would give way to another day, the time for work would arrive, time to prepare would have passed them by. But neither left the beach before they were somehow drawn together like magnets to plant a kiss upon each other lips, a kiss that would prove to be the best that either had ever dreamed of having, a kiss that they would long to feel again and again becoming addicted. There was no doubt that they would be together again.

THE END

The Mysterious

of

The Little Black Book

The little leather black book sat, peacefully, on the livingroom table which stood against the wall next to the stairway. A transparent, glass, table upon cherry brown legs. The book lay beneath a vase filled with a, beautiful, green plant. It was there in the livingroom of white walls, and white furniture, the floors covered by a comfy, white, rug. And white curtains to the floor were drawn away from a wide window through which sunlight shown towards it. There, peacefully, it lay.

The little black book lay there even until Jim Stewart came home, had his dinner, took a shower, went to bed, and as the sun had begun to make it's way to the bottom of the earth; and as the sky had turned so many beautiful colors and then, finally, become pitch dark so that the light which had once shown through the window was replaced by the silvery light of the moon and darkness covered the room.

Jim Stewart awoke to the sound of a noisy alarm clock and golden light beaming through his bedroom window and into his eyes. As he shielded his eyes from the sunlight with his hand, he began to pull back the covers on the bed and to get up and begin to prepare for work. He had a shower, and then a light breakfast. Then he returned upstairs for a little black book which he'd forgotten to grab. It had been his intentions to call, at least, three of the numbers in it that day, in his office, at work. He hadn't been on a date in months. He was pressed, continuously, by friends and family to date after a year of being divorced from a seven year long marriage. And they pressed even harder now that his ex-wife was remarried. He grabbed the little black book from the suit pocket of a suitcoat he'd worn the other day when he'd failed to use it (the little black book), again. Then he came racing down the stairs and out the door never once noticing the little black book lying there on the livingroom table.

In his car, he noticed a neighbor, Mr. Fischer. Mr. Fischer looked straight at him; so, he waved and yelled good morning as he started his car. He'd never noticed Mr. Fischer looking at him, or noticing him at all in the morning ever before. Mr. Fischer was usually busy with gardening and trimming his bushes and never paid much attention to Jim when he passed by. And, oddly, and what went to the back of Jim's mind was the way Mr. Fischer looked at him that morning....... It was as if he was watching him. But he hardly paid attention to that as he drove away noticing in the back of his mind Mr. Carter standing on the porch noticing Jim and Mr. Fischer. Mr. Carter seemed to be wondering why Mr. Fischer looked at Jim that way. Jim greeted him also as he passed by in his car. And he (Mr. Carter) waved back and said good morning in response to Jim's greeting.

Another day passed, and Jim woke up the same way and took a shower. He got dressed; and this time, he did not forget his black book upstairs. He had breakfast and was racing out the door when he turned around. For reasons he would never know, he turned around. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little black book lying on the glass table of the livingroom. He turned, completely, around. His eyebrows dropped, his head cocked to the side as he eyed it. He began to walk towards it. As he neared it, he pushed his hands through his pocket to search for the little black book he'd gotten from upstairs which he knew he'd left there (upstairs) the other day. He pulled it out of his right pocket. He held it in front of him before his eyes. There it was. So, where had the other little black book come from.

Jim put down the little black book he knew about to observe the one he didn't know of. He looked inside. He noticed the names. He noticed the handwriting. But there was something that he didn't know. He picked up the other black book and opened it. He compared the pages of one to the other - two of the same pages. Oddly, the names were the same. The handwriting was the same. But the phone numbers were different.

The large letters of a local, religious, gameshow - NAME THAT NUMBER!!! - appeared on the television screen along with the opening theme music. It was a program that some religious groups came up with because they didn't agree with gambling but wanted to produce a show that allowed people to win tens of thousands of dollars by guessing a certain combination of numbers. To be a contestant, you had to pay a dollar a month; but that was all. If you ever had any complaints about the show, there was no issue; because, you only paid a dollar a month. And, you could NOT say that you gambled with that dollar; because, anyone who complained was repaid every dollar he or she paid and that person's membership was permanently cancelled. Jim loved it.

Conveniently, the show came on in the evenings, hours after Jim got off from work.

Jim sat up in bed with a bowl full of popcorn and a glass full of his favorite drink (warm grape juice). It was pitch dark outside. Only the light from the television made anything visible.

The only change that the, mysterious, little black book had made to Jim's days was the curiosity that it put inside him and a necessity to solve the mystery. For example, if someone had broken into his house and left the book, it was necessary for him to know.

20 minutes later, Jim was grabbing the phone to dial the number to the show and punch in the seven numbers he'd come up with that might be the right ones to win the show. This was another attempt out of his many attempts to win. But, of course, he'd never, yet, won on a single show.

A couple of weeks passed; and still the little black book was a mystery. Jim sat up in bed and went through it again.

It was the middle of the day - just after noon. The room was turned the color of gold by the light of the sun. With the window open, the temperature was so pleasant. The season was fall; and the cool air was so relaxing.

The curtains blew back and forth in the room which was, perfectly, tidy. The bed was made like that of a hotel room. The scent of the air freshener Jim used created a smell in the air that was so sweet. Jim had chosen only the classiest wall pictures to hang upon the walls - one just above the bed. They were so deep and made you imagine yourself inside them. Like one with the image of a house that was so mysterious and sort of wonderful. And a wood just beside a garden. The scenes and the feeling you could live in them made you feel so enchanted. The television was across from the bed. Jim couldn't live without it. A photo hung by each side of it. A dresser sat beside each side of the bed which matched the bed and were part of a bedroom set. A lamp sat on each dresser also matching the bedroom set.

Jim continued comparing the two black books. There was something else, extremely, puzzling that he noticed. While every name, handwriting, and everything else on each of the pages of the books were identical, every telephone number was different. Not one of them was the same. This was weird. Had someone broken into his house, found his little black book one day when he'd left it, brought an identical little black book, and copied everything from it but the numbers? But why would they? And who would? This whole thing was way too odd.

A shadow suddenly appeared on the side of Jim's face and upon the bed right in front of him. The shadow of a man's face. Jim turned towards the window; and, for a split second, he saw Mr. Fischer looking, directly, at him through the window; but, next thing he knew, he was seeing his back as he ran away. Jim hopped up and rushed to the window. Mr. Fischer was making his way back to his side of the street without casting even as much as a glance back in Jim's direction. Soon he was disappearing into the doorway of his own home.

Jim flew out of his room and down the stairs. Soon he was banging on Mr. Fischer's door; but, of course, no one answered. After ten minutes, he marched over to Mr. Carter's door.

"Are you insane? I remember giving you the greeting. I remember waving at you. But I do NOT remember Mr. Fischer staring at you, nor me looking at him staring at you especially since Mr. Fischer has been out of town catering to his sick mother's needs for two months."

Jim backed away, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "You've got to be kidding. There's no way. I just saw him looking through..... I saw him wh....... I mean, you were just........."

Jim began to shake his head in disbelief. He didn't know what to say or think. What was happening here? What was going on?

Finally, Jim decided to tell a friend what he was going through. He told a friend at work. He and his buddy Roger Baker sat in a cafe just across the street from the building they worked in. Both dressed in fine suits.

"Are you kidding? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, Man! I swear! It's no joke! And I'm as shocked as you and puzzled as you!"

Roger flipped through the pages of the books. It was obvious that he was trying not to laugh. It seemed funny. Of course, under the circumstances that it was his problem, Jim couldn't see the humor in it; and Roger knew not to laugh.

He began to shake his head. "Where'd you find it again?"

"In the livingroom, on the table."

"And you think your neighbor has something to do with it?"

"He's been acting weird ever since I found it."

Roger could think of nothing else to do but shake his head still in disbelief and holding back his laughter. Why would someone do it? What would be the point? It would have to be a pretty silly person.

"Oh, wait! Are there kids in your neighborhood, and do you leave the windows open?"

"I've seen kids; but they don't pay much attention to me."

"Well, maybe that's up until now."

"But, then, why did I see Mr. Fischer acting so funny all of a sudden. I mean, he never paid any attention to me before; but, now, I recently caught him staring at me through my bedroom window. And every day, since the day I found this book, he's been watching me when I go to work and come home. And, get this! Mr. Carter, who lives right next to him, who I could have sworn was standing right there watching him the first time I saw him staring at me, is saying that he never saw Mr. Fischer staring at me, and that Mr. Fischer has been out of town for two months!"

Another week passed by. Jim sat in his office nearly incapable of concentrating on his job. And he was pretty irritable. He had to figure out the mystery of the little black book, and Mr. Fischer. What was going on?

The phone on his desk rang. He reached for it and knocked over the bottle of water he had sitting on his desk. It wasted onto a number of important papers. He sighed as he quickly grabbed the bottle to stop the flow of water. Then he grabbed the papers. He had to seperate them and then find a way to hang them up to dry. Once he did, he exited his office. He needed a break, some air, and a stretch. He decided to take a walk to a cafe in the building. He never once noticed Roger watching him as a he made his way to the elevators.

Jim stood before the elevators waiting for one to arrive. Soon he heard the bell from the ones behind him. He turned toward them. The elevator doors opened; and Jim's jaw dropped. There was Mr. Fischer standing on the elevator. He never once looked at Jim. Once the doors were completely opened, Mr. Fischer walked off the elevator never once looking at Jim. Jim just stood staring at his neighbor's back after he passed him by. But after a few minutes, he, finally, began to follow him. He followed as Mr. Fischer made it through the glass doors of the company Jim worked for. He followed him to where he turned a corner. Jim turned the corner. Around the corner, there was a hall with no open doors and no unlocked doors; and there was a dead end at the end of it but no Mr. Fischer.

Eventually, Jim's work day was, finally, over. In his car, he was coming up his street when he saw Mr. Fischer's truck loaded with luggage. He and Mr. Carter were unloading the truck. It looked just as if Mr. Fischer was just returning from a trip. The two neighbors both spotted Jim at the same time. Only one waved and spoke. That was Mr. Carter. Mr. Fischer simply watched Jim come up the road without a word. But the look on his face wasn't the same as what Jim had noticed recently. Mr. Fischer just looked like a normal person, returning from a trip who had never done any of the weird things Jim had seen. He didn't seem like someone who had had anything to do with Jim at all - just someone minding his own business, concerned only with his own circumstances.

Jim stepped into his house. He locked his door and walked into the livingroom where he stared out the window. He watched a little more as his two neighbors unloaded the truck. Then he reached into his pocket and took out the little black books. And right before his eyes, one disappeared.

Roger Baker found himself continuously watching Jim ever since about an hour after Jim had told him about his little black book issue; because, it was an hour after that that Roger remembered something about his friend that might have everything to do with the mystery of the little black book.

Obviously, Jim had decided to tell his mother; because, she called him up as he sat at his desk in his office demanding to know what he knew about what was going on with Jim. He told her everything he knew.

"I saw him following someone at work....... someone I could't see....... someone who wasn't there."

"Oh, my God," said Jim's mother.

And that was the same way that Roger felt. Both he and Jim's mother knew that he suffered from a psychotic illness.... that he had schizophrenia. But calling the mental health facility on him felt like ratting him out to Roger. It felt that way to many people.

Roger put his cellphone away. He sighed and shook his head.

Jim saw Mr. Fischer at work, again. He followed him only to have him disappear again right before his eyes. That was not the last time that Jim saw Mr. Fischer at his job and even other places. And he even began to see others that he knew but who didn't belong in the place he saw them. But that was the last time Jim followed Mr. Fischer and anyone else he saw.

Jim was never going to call a mental health facility on himself; but, when he saw the mental health van pulling into his driveway, he knew that his mother had.

He was at the local hospital when a psychiatrist asked, "Have you recently gone through a stressful event?"

Jim lowered his eyes and didn't answer.

"Let me put it another way. What stressful thing has happened to you since you were last hospitalized, or experienced any serious symptoms of your illness that may have caused you to react this way? What might your mind be reacting to?"

Jim knew the answer but wasn't sure he wanted to share it.

"Come on, Mr. Stewart. Before I can help you, you have to help me. You're the one with most of the answers."

Jim decided to answer. "Karen...... She's getting married." His eyes began to glisten with tears. "The man...... Her fiance.... I used to see them...... when we were married...... They would seem to be flirting sometimes. The way he looked at her.......... The way they looked at eachother......... The way they talked....... We got a divorce since we kept having conflicts we couldn't work out. Three months passed...... Then she was married...... to him."

Even in the hospital, Jim saw Mr. Fischer. He saw Karen. He saw Mr. Carter. It was like they were dead with their spirits roaming. The doctor upped his meds more than once. Then they were all gone.

Jim was released from the hospital after a few weeks. With no trouble, he returned to his normal routine.

The day after he was released, he returned to work which he'd made sure he would be able to do by calling in and insisting. And that night, in bed, he watched Name That Number.

He looked beside the bed on one of the dressers. Only one little black book lay there. But Jim had memorized many of the numbers in the mysterious black book that had vanished on him. He decided to use one of the numbers from the little black book on the Name That Number show. Immediately after he had that idea, one of the numbers popped in his head. The area code was absent even though the area codes had been included in the book. He dialed the show and punched in that number. He took a huge drink of his grape juice and waited for the winning numbers to be announced. When Jim heard the name and numbers of the winner announced on the show, his jaw dropped, his eyes popping out of their sockets. He had just won $20,000!

The next day at work, Jim walked through the company building. He noticed Roger standing in the doorway of a colleague's office. Roger was having a conversation concerning company business. Jim longed to tell Roger what he had experienced the other night; but he didn't dare tell him. He looked in Roger's direction for a little while longer as he passed him by. Then he turned away making his way to his own office.

Jim sat, eagerly, at his desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote Mysterious Little Black Book Numbers at the top of the page. Then he began to write down every number that he remembered from the mysterious little black book.

The show, Name That Number, came on every weekday; and every weekday, Jim was winning money. He hadn't needed to write down the numbers he remembered; because, every time he played the game, a particular number from the little black book popped into his head. He always used that number and won every time.

Jim was a millionaire before he ran out of numbers he remembered. Many people knew he was - family, friends. But he had no one to tell how.

And one day, after months of not seeing Mr. Fischer, Karen, or Mr. Carter in strange places ever again, and after he'd run out of all the numbers he remembered from the book, the little black book reappeared; and Jim began to use the numbers he hadn't memorized - the rest of the numbers. When he'd open the book to search for a number to use on the Name That Number show, one would become active. It would become bold and then thin again over and over, sort of flashing on and off in black. And Jim would use that number and win every time.

So, Jim waited up to two years for other suspected hallucinations to return, too; and, when they never did, he brought the little black book to a religious leader. He didn't care from what religion. He found an Imam (a Muslim leader & preacher from the religion of Islam). He showed his bank account information, how there were millions of dollars in his bank account. He showed his former bank account info so that the Imam could see how quickly he became rich. He showed him the little black book right beside his original little black book. "How can it be?" he asked.

"You may have been having psychotic episodes due to your mental illness; but your mind is and was being influenced by Jinn whether you were and are ill or not."

"Do you mean the devil? Am I supposed to get rid of this money?"

"You're supposed to pray. The money is NOT, necessarily, the problem. And no. It doesn't have to be the devil. Jinn are spirits. They have human personalities. They can be believers in God, or disbelievers. They can be knowledgeable, or ignorant. They can understand the teachings of God or not. So, some don't believe because they don't understand, or recognize - just like people. Then when they hear the teaching of God, and the truth becomes clear to them, they believe."

"What about angels?"

"Angels don't play foolish games, making you see spirits and thing. Angels are very disciplined and, completely, innocent. And they always believe and are always under strict rules of discipline. They can influence you. They can effect you. But they do not play silly games. Now, I still can't say that this thing isn't God's mercy. But I know you should pray."