Friday morning, I woke up in a great mood. I had spent all day Thursday cleaning the house, running errands, and getting the kids prepared for a weekend at the lake with their uncle. My husband had set his alarm for three that morning, and left soon after for a guy's weekend of hunting and testosterone-filled fun at the cabin we co-own with a few other couples.
He could not believe what was happening. Every time he was away from her, he wanted her or needed to have her around. Somehow, he thought it was too good to be true. His mind was converted into a mesh of thoughts—different memories of his life with her in a big bag of jubilee.
I could sit this way forever. My knees bent into an angle of pain as they hugged my chest. I wrap my arms around them and hold them close. The melanin in my face absorbs the sun as it beats down on me. I am thankful for the ocean's mist that dabs onto my skin, cooling it from the sun. Staring at the waves is the only moment of stillness. I’ve lived here on the Mariana Island’s for 12 years now. I’ve seen so many women come and go, but I remain. I have no permission to be here ever, I am always to stay indoors, obey and work. The ego that lives inside of me, that fire that tried to bite, kick and kill those three men who brought me here, still exists. I never changed. I never fell in love with these men, the regulars that visit me or the traveling perverts who come to see us. When I close my eyes at night, I imagine San Diego again, what my older twin brothers look like now. I wonder if the Krispy Kreme donut shop is still around the corner from my house. At 10 years old, my mom got breast cancer and then I went missing. I dream that she is still alive, not burdened by cancer or worrying about me. She doesn’t need to worry about me because I am adaptable. I adapted to the world I grew up in and the world I know now. I always imagine my mother happy and healthy.
They stood askance. Bright purples and deep oranges speckled their faces. In the bright sunlight, the masked figures kept their hands behind their backs as if in parade rest. There stood ten of them. The wind blew the blue hair of some of the masked people standing in the Newark, Delaware corporate office complex. The vast majority of employees had left for home early this day as the company, Terry Capital, recognized Halloween as a sacred holiday. Betina Ossley walked with a stride that said purpose. As the CEO of her company she walked out last from the office. She stepped right into the standoff of the ten costumes that stood about like a copse of ill-planted evergreens. Her gait began to quicken as she saw that the rest of the parking lost remained vacant.
Back and forth... back and forth... I sway. Hung by my ankles in the dungeon of old church ruins. Figures circled around me. Long fingers dangling from the sleeves of their robes. Faceless heads of rough, dry skin stare from the shadows.
CUTHBERT STILES stood upright, taking in the smell of iron. As he breathed in that metallic scent, he sighed with satisfaction. A slow smile spread across his face as he admired the room, painted in that beautiful shade of red. A color so loved. Another happy sigh sounded as he passed to the bathroom, completely oblivious to stickiness under foot.
“Deep underground, the ceiling security camera in the underground facility watches every move of the two killer beings fight. The ones behind the improvised incident now watch in secret. Taking even more interest than expected, the advanced teleportation technology worked better than analyzed by the scientist. The assassin hybrid used advanced grappling to get the elemental on the ground. The battle between the two as voracious. One with speed and agility far superior than the rest, and one with magnificent shape shifting abilities. The battle also seemed to destroy and leave breakage of science equipment and infrastructure.”
Arrgh, I woke up on this cold steel floor thinking, where in blazes was I? I didn’t have my normal clothes on, I wasn’t naked, but it was bath robe or something like that. I couldn’t quite place what it was that I was wearing.
"One lick two licks three licks four, once more around the head and then no more. Greedy meany tiny tot the sixth lick you'll be. If Sad Sucker bites you back with his sticky teeth."
The water dripped from the old leaky pipes into the sink; dishes sat piled to the brim. The water kissed the surface of the already soaked dish. The horrific sound produced bounced off the walls continuously.