I knew there wouldn’t really be anything in the mTalk store for under $150. Even with the 50 bucks Mom offered to chip in, there was nothing I could afford. Didn’t stop me from looking. Or from feeling let down. Guess we’d have to try the used phone place my BFF Stacy told me about.
“Don’t worry, Lauren. I’ll buy you the best phone ever,” my dad had said when he called last month. Then he sent me a check for $100. That wouldn’t even buy me a decent mom phone. Happy birthday to me.
“Stacy said it was just across from the yogurt place,” I told my mom.
I tried to cheer myself up. At least Dad sent cash, instead of having his new wife, Twila pick out something for me. At Christmas, she sent me some earrings from the dollar store and the most hideous sweater in the history of mankind. Seriously. The cat wouldn’t even sleep on it, and I left it in her basket for two weeks before I used it to wash the car. But Dad thinks she’s an expert because she’s only three years older than me.
At least summer break was coming up and I could work more hours at Grocer-Ama. If this place, Allbrands Refurbished Phones, didn’t have what I wanted, at least I had a $150 head start. Might have that mTalk by July. Bye-bye prepaid cheapo. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a sleek new phone in my hand. Purple skin like Kaia’s or rhinestones like London’s?
The smell of freshly made waffle cones made my stomach growl.
“Want to get a yogurt first?” Mom asked.
“Okay.”
I ordered cheesecake and strawberry swirl. With sprinkles, of course.
“What are you getting?” I asked Mom.
“Oh, I’m just not really in the mood for something sweet right now.”
I knew she was lying. She’s always in the mood for something sweet. She was only working four days a week now, and money was tight.
I picked up an extra spoon from the basket on the counter. I put it in her hand on when we found a place to sit and I pushed the cup of yogurt to the middle of the table.
“Thanks, ba-Lauren.”
I prepared myself for disappointment as we walked across the corridor to the used phone store.
The man behind the counter looked kind of old, but he had blue-black hair and very dark eyes. Dying your hair after a certain age is just wrong.
“Is there something I can help you find?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Mom cleared her throat.
“Yes, sir. Do you have any mTalks?”
“But of course.” He pointed to a display at the end of the counter.
There it was. The newest model – the mTalk MultiFinity. Stacy was always going on about how great her mTalk was. It has the best apps, and blah, blah, blah. And she didn’t even have a MultiFinity. This one was only $75.
“What’s wrong with it?” It seemed way too good to be true.
“Ah. The MultiFinity. Scratch and dent.” He slid open the glass door and picked up the phone. When he flipped it over to show me the back, I could see what he meant. Two deep scratches ran from top to bottom and a little dimple slumped between them.
“The damage is only cosmetic,” the man said as he slipped in a battery. The phone vibrated and lit up.
“This is how you connect to the internet.” He pushed a button with a cube on it. Then he put it in my hands and went to talk to my mom.
I heard them talking about contracts and service plans, but I didn’t pay much attention. A news page flashed onto the screen. I navigated to my favorite band’s site. Steve, Justin and Zack, The Mercury Fish, appeared. Then I went to Stacy’s blog and left a comment.
No way I was leaving this thing in the store. With a skin, nobody would ever see the scratches. I started picking through the mTalk covers on the pegboard.
“I guess that means you want the phone, Lauren?” Mom asked, right behind me.
“Yes!” I hoped I hadn’t sounded too much like a kid.
“Thought so. They have a basic plan I think you can afford.”
“Kewl.” I went back to the skins. By the time Mom had finished all the paperwork, I found a blue metallic leopard print one that I liked.
My mother handed me a brochure when we got in the car. “This is what your plan covers. I do expect you to pay for this. No pay, no phone, understand?”
“Sure, Mom.” I was too busy putting the skin on and personalizing the phone to read the brochure. It would still be there later.
I went over to Stacy’s almost as soon as we got home.
“Hey, Stace! Look what I’ve got.”
“An mTalk? ‘Bout time.” She touched the screen. “How’d you score a MultiFinity?”
“Birthday fundage.”
Stacy cocked her head and looked at me. “From your dad? Did he sneak out while Twila wasn’t looking?”
“Don’t know. He sent a check. I cashed it.”
Just then, we heard the front door open and close. I looked up as Stacy’s brother came in.
“Hey, Jeff.” I said, trying to sound very casual.
Stacy rolled her eyes. I’d been crushing on him for years now. He was in college and so much more mature than high school boys.
“Lauren’s snagged a MultiFinity. Check it out.” Stacy said. “She’s one of us now.”
“Cool. Let’s see.”
I had trouble breathing when he sat down next to me on the couch. When he brushed my hand to pick up the phone, my skin tingled and shivered. I could feel the heat of his body next to me, and I could just about pretend it was me he was interested in instead of my phone. Too soon, he got up, reminding me that I was nothing more than his little sister’s friend. Sometimes, reality sucks. I held in the sigh.
When he had gone, Stacy elbowed me in the ribs. “You’re so pathetic. Just an FYI, he has a girlfriend now.”
“Why should I care if he has a girlfriend?”
I almost dropped my phone when it rang a few seconds later. It was Mom, telling me to come home for dinner.
* * * *
Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. What was that noise and why was it happening at 12:01 AM? On the nightstand, my phone was glowing. I closed one eye to cut down the glare and looked at the screen. 1 New Message. Why is someone texting me at midnight?
I looked at the message. The sender was an unfamiliar jumble of numbers. Welcome to dNet. Thanks for activating with us. A whole new world awaits you!
They woke me up to tell me that? I turned the phone off and went back to sleep.
The next four days were the last short week of school. Awards ceremonies, report cards, turn in textbooks, yearbook autographs and all the usual stuff.
I had Friday completely off, no Grocer-Ama until Saturday. Stacy and I spent the day bumming around at the mall, then hanging out by her pool. Jeff didn’t show while I was there. Bummer. I had the hottest bikini ever. Mom would have died if she saw it.
“Hey, Lauren? Let me hook you up with some killer apps.”
“Sure.”
I handed Stacy my phone while I went in the bathroom to change clothes.
“You ready for Driver’s Ed on Monday?” Stacy asked when I came out.
Mom had let me drive her car a little bit in the empty parking lot of the bank on Saturday afternoons. It had a clutch and I had to remember which pedals to step on and how to shift gears. It was hard and I was looking forward to having an automatic to learn on.
“Yeah, I guess. Wonder who’ll be in our group?”
“Don’t know. As long as it’s not Perry. I can’t stand to be in the same room with him. He smells.”
“I don’t think it’s all his fault. I think his mom feeds him lots of garlic to keep girls away.”
Stacy laughed. “Girls? Maybe. Anyway, it works.”
I was tired when I got home, and I went to bed early. I fell asleep playing with my MultiFinity, trying to figure out some of the new stuff Stacy loaded for me.
Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.
I sat up so hard I almost fell out of bed. I had been dreaming that something with claws was holding me down, trying to push all the air out of my lungs. I was glad the phone woke me up. I looked at the clock. It was 12:01 AM.
What useless message does dNet have for me tonight?
It wasn’t dNet. It said ‘Jeff.’ No last name. Odd. The message read, ‘Cum outside & meat me undr tree.’
Meat me?
I looked out the window. I could just make out a figure darker than the shadows under the live oak tree. That totally creeped me out. That couldn’t be any Jeff I knew. I texted back, “No thx”
I left the phone on my nightstand, went in Mom’s room and got in bed with her.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she muttered, half asleep.
“I thought I saw someone outside.”
“What?!” She was suddenly awake.
Putting on her bathrobe, she called the police and picked up the golf club she kept in her closet. Dad always wondered what had happened to his 9 iron. Cordless phone in one hand, club in the other, she walked around the house, turning on all the lights, indoors and out.
The police cruiser showed up about ten minutes after Mom called. He asked me about what I saw. I was afraid to mention the text. Mom would take my phone away for sure if she knew. The officer looked around, but didn’t find anything.
“Could be a transient,” he hold my mother. “There’s been more of ‘em lately, you know.”
“I see,” Mom answered.
“I’ll make sure I come back by a few times during the night. You probably scared him off. I don’t expect he’ll be back.”
“You don’t expect? That isn’t really good enough. I have a teenage daughter to look out for,” my mother snapped at him.
“Easy, ma’am. If he was just under the tree and not trying to get in the house, he was probably just passing through. I would recommend you leave your outside lights on, though.”
We sat up watching old reruns, the ones you find on network TV after midnight. We didn’t have cable anymore. My mom cannot just sit and watch television. She has to DO something. Usually, she knits. By the time I fell asleep around three, she had most of a scarf done.
Author Archives: Artemis Greenleaf
No App for That, Part 2
Saturday was the same as just about every other Saturday. Have breakfast, go to work. Come home. No date. I almost fell asleep during dinner. I went upstairs to lie down for a minute and the next thing I knew, it was morning.
I didn’t have to be at work until four. Stacy and I went to the mall to play crazy golf. It’s indoors and everything is glow-in-the dark. Before we went in, I took our picture and posted it on FaceSpace.
We were on the bus on the way back when my phone buzzed. It was a text from London. ‘OMG. Who’s the guy?’
‘?’ I replied.
‘W/U & S @ mall’
I looked at the picture in my phone. Nobody but me and Stace. I went to the internet and opened my FaceSpace page. There were Stacy and I. Behind us stood a guy in a black shirt. I could tell he had blond hair, but the top half of his face was cut off, And his hand was on my shoulder.
My hands started shaking. I deleted the pic.
“What’s wrong with you? You suddenly turned white,” Stacy said.
“Nothing. Here’s our stop.”
* * * *
I opened my eyes and looked around. I had left the lamp by my bed on. The clock read 12:00. I sat up. Nothing seemed wrong. Not until my phone lit up and buzzed. It was 12:01.
The message was from “Jeff.”‘LET ME IN.’ I heard someone tapping on the glass of the back door.
‘NO NO NO NO NO. GO AWAY’ I turned the phone off and took the battery out. The tapping stopped. Text me now Jeff, if that’s even your name.
Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt. It felt like someone was pouring icewater on my head. Cold fear dripped onto my shoulders and down my back.
TTYL Jeff replied.
I threw the phone and the battery into the night table drawer. I was taking it back tomorrow. I didn’t care how good a deal it was.
Taking a deep breath, I crept to the window and peeked out through the edge of the curtains. Nothing unusual outside. I picked up a book and tried to read, shivering under the blanket and staring at the same page for hours.
“Lauren. Wake up baby.” Mom was shaking me.
I opened one eye. It was 6:45.
“What?” I asked.
“Driver’s Ed, remember? I’m dropping you and Stacy off on the way to work.”
After I got dressed and ate breakfast, we got in the car.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” Mom asked me, her eyes narrowing. I wasn’t sure if she was worried about me, or if she thought I was up to something.
“I was going to talk to you about that. I need to take this phone back and see if they maybe have a different one.”
“Why’s that?”
“Somebody keeps texting me in the middle of the night. Must be a wrong number or something.” I didn’t bother telling her about the text after I’d pulled the battery out. She’d never believe it.
“Texting you? What are they saying?” Mom swerved into the other lane as she jerked her head in my direction. Good thing we weren’t out in traffic yet.
“Nothing, really. Just wanting to meet up.”
“Absolutely, we’ll get your number changed. We’ll go back to the store this week, tonight if there’s no overtime from work. You can just turn it off and leave it downstairs so it doesn’t wake you up until then.”
We pulled into Stacy’s driveway and she came out to meet us. Mom was taking us to class, and Mrs. Halloran was picking us up. We’d already done all the classroom stuff and watched the gory car crash movies. Now it was time for what Coach Smith called the “practical education” part.
Mom and Stace good-morninged each other and off we went.
There were four of us in the group: me, Stacy, James and Emily. I had to drive last.
“Turn right at the next intersection,” Coach Smith said.
I put on my turn signal and started slowing down. Maybe a little bit too soon. I triple checked for cars and pedestrians. I didn’t’ see either as I started to turn.
Then I saw him. Walking into the street, right in front of the car.
It was a guy with kind of greenish skin and white blond hair. And black eyes. Not just dark colored irises. The whole eye was black with no white at all. In fact, it could have even been a zombie version of Stacy’s brother. I screamed as slammed on the brakes with both feet. The car screeched to a stop and everyone lurched against their seatbelts.
“Lauren, what in God’s name is wrong with you?” Coach Smith shouted at me.
I got out of the car, searching frantically. “Where is he?”
“Lauren, who are you talking about?” Coach Smith had gotten out of the car, too.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t see him. That guy that stepped off the curb right as I turned the car.”
“Lauren, nobody stepped off the curb. You’re imagining things. Why don’t you just get back in the car. On the passenger side. I’ll call your mom, okay sweetheart?” His voice was suddenly soft and sweet.
Great. Now he thought I had lost my mind.
“Fine. Whatever.”
I got in the car. My heart was still thumping against my ribs and I was breathing hard from the adrenalin. Nobody said a word as Coach Smith drove to the nearest parking lot and called my mom. I stared out the window. I’m not crazy. I’m NOT crazy.
Mom met us at the school. She hugged me, then she lifted my chin up and looked at my eyes and felt my forehead.
“Go sit in the car, baby. I just want to talk to Coach Smith for a minute.”
I sat in the passenger side with the door open, hoping to catch a little breeze in the stifling heat. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could see Coach Smith’s mouth moving and Mom frowning and nodding her head.
When Mom got in the car, she started the engine to get the AC going, but didn’t go anywhere.
“Okay, Lauren. I’d like to hear your side of the story. Tell me what happened.”
“This guy stepped off the curb, right in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, but when I got out of the car, I couldn’t find him.”
“I see. Why do you suppose no one else saw this person?”
“I don’t know.” Tears started to well up in my eyes.
Mom closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Have you been using drugs?”
“What? No!”
“Well, something has changed. You aren’t sleeping at night and you’re having hallucinations. If it isn’t drugs, what is it? Are you having a mental disturbance? Or is this some misguided ploy to get attention?”
“So those are my choices? I’m a junkie, a nut job or a conniving brat? Is that really what you think of me?” I couldn’t stop the tremble in my voice or the tears from overflowing onto my cheeks.
“Lauren, I don’t want to believe any of those things about you. But if there’s another alternative, perhaps you could tell me what it is.”
“It’s this stupid phone, okay? Ever since I got it, weird stuff has been happening to me.” I told her about the texts from “Jeff,” wishing I hadn’t deleted them, and I told her about the picture I put on FaceSpace. I even found it on my phone and showed it to her. And I still had the text from London about it.
“Okay. Let’s go to the phone place.”
She didn’t speak to me on the way. I could tell by the way she was gnawing her bottom lip that she was thinking about the problem, looking for a logical explanation. The trip to the phone place was probably more to buy time to figure out what to do than because she believed me.
We parked in our usual section and went in the door closest to the yogurt shop. As we got closer, I started looking for the Allbrands sign. I didn’t see it. Could they be closed on Mondays? We were directly across from the yogurt place and there was no phone shop, only the painted screen that makes it look like there is a store there.
“Excuse me,” Mom said to the lady behind the yogurt counter, “But do you know if that mobile phone store across the mall from has moved to another space?”
“Mobile phones? There’s never been any mobile phone place over here. Can I get you some yogurt?”
“No, thanks.”
Maybe now my mother would believe me.
No App for That, Part 3
“Okay. I’m sure they’ve just moved. Or closed down. Let’s go look at the directory.” She grabbed my wrist and hurried me down the corridor.
“But Mom – you heard what the lady said.”
“She may be new and just not know. Or she may not care.”
We stopped in front of the “You Are Here” directory and map. Mom read the name of every business in the mall. Three times. I didn’t bother. I knew there would be no listing for Allbrands Refurbished Phones.
“I put the paperwork in the glovebox,” she said. “It’s still in the car. That’s bound to have a phone number on it.”
She marched us out to the parking lot and hunted furiously through the glovebox and under the seats. “It has to be here somewhere,” she muttered.
But it wasn’t. Even under the blaring sun, her face was pale and her eyes were wide.
“Alright. I have and idea. You said the problems started when you got the phone. Let’s just try an experiment. Get in the car.”
Mom’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel as she drove. I didn’t like to see her so upset, but at least she seemed to believe me now.
She pulled into the parking lot of a large city park between the mall and our house. It was 98° and not a breath of air. The park was abandoned. Mom took a plastic grocery bag that had some trash in it from the floor of the front seat and got out of the car. I followed her to the farthest possible trash can, where she emptied the bag.
“Turn off your phone and give it to me.”
When I handed it over, she wrapped it up in the plastic bag, then looked around the park. “Tip the trash barrel, but not all the way over.”
The barrel smelled like mildew, vomit and dog poop, and I had to stand there holding the disgusting thing while she used a stick to dig a little hole underneath. Sweat was running down into my bra and I thought I was going to hurl from the stench of the trash can.
“There,” she said as she snuggled my plastic-wrapped phone into the dirt. “You can put the trash barrel back, now.”
As much as I had wanted my mTalk, I was glad for it to be gone. After we got home, I ate a bowl of cereal and went upstairs to chill in my room. The next thing I knew, Mom was shaking my shoulder. I looked at the clock. It was three hours later.
“Stacy’s on the phone for you.”
Groggy and disoriented, I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get my bearings. “Tell her I’ll call her back. Please.” I was too embarrassed to talk to her after the Driver’s Ed incident.
I had just over an hour before I had to be at work, so I splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth and went downstairs. Mom had her headset on and was typing at the computer. Must be trying to work from home.
“Baby, would you mind getting the mail? I just saw the truck go by and I’m sure hoping there’s a check from your father in there.”
I got myself a cola and went out to the mailbox. There was a lot of stuff jammed in there. Something clattered to the pavement at my feet. I looked down.
It was my phone.
I screamed. Mom came running out of the house, cable dangling from the end of her headset.
“Lauren?!”
I was shaking too hard to talk. I just pointed to the phone on the ground. My mother’s face went white. She picked it up and slammed it to the concrete, over and over until the casing broke open. Then she stomped its electronic guts into the road and kicked the parts into the storm drain.
She put her arm around my shoulder and guided me towards the house. She took the pile of mail from me and I flopped onto the couch.
“Let’s see that thing try to come back now,” Mom said. “Are you feeling up to going to work this afternoon? If so, you’d better eat something, baby.”
I looked at the clock. Work seemed like a great place to be. Nothing weird ever happened there. Everything was completely, boringly, normal.
I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a cheese sandwich. I couldn’t manage more than three bites of it, but I did finish my cola.
Mom dropped me off at the store and Inez, the manager, gave me a ride home after closing. The whole phone episode was starting to feel like a bad dream.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, paying bills when I came in. “How are you feeling, Lauren? Work okay?”
“Fine, Mom. I’m just really tired. Night.”
“Goodnight, baby. Love you.”
I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when the knocking started. It was downstairs, at the front door. It was loud, but slow and steady, like a metronome. Knock…knock…knock…
I froze. People knocking on your door after ten at night can’t be good. I could hear my mom ask, “Who’s there,” and a voice asked to be let in. I slipped my robe on over my nightshirt and walked quietly to the top of the stairs.
I recognized the voice of the person at the door. Stacy? What was she doing here this late? I came halfway down the stairs. Then I stopped. There was a guy with her, the zombie Jeff I thought I’d run over during driver’s ed. Something was way beyond wrong.
“Stace?” I called to her. My breath switched from normal to shallow and I gripped the railing to keep my balance.
“Lau-ren.” She sung my name, like she was calling a dog.
I looked at my mother. She stood completely still, staring into Jeff’s all-black eyes. “Mom? Mom!”
She didn’t move.
“She can’t hear you, Lau-ren,” Stacy sang. “Not since she let us in.”
Stacy started towards the stairs. I started backing up.
Then she smiled. It was the most horrifying smile ever. It was almost as if someone standing behind her pulled her lips up and back to show her teeth. But worse, much worse, was what happened to her eyes. As I watched, they went from normal to completely black. No iris. No white. Only black.
I turned and bolted towards my room. Stacy appeared at the top of the stairs, blocking my way. Her back was to me.
“Lau-ren,” she sang. Slowly, her head swiveled around a complete 180° and she was looking at me from where the back of her head should have been. She giggled, then her face got fierce “Run!” she snarled.
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I took a shortcut by vaulting over the railing where the stairs made a right angle turn. Not only did I bang my head on the edge of the stairs going down, but I didn’t quite stick the landing and I heard something crunch in my ankle. I would feel it later, when the adrenalin rush faded.
I sprinted the five steps to the antique china hutch that stood under the staircase. Stacy met me there.
A gurgling, giggling sound seemed to be coming from her, but her mouth was closed. “Lau-ren. Time’s up.”
“Why, Stacy? Why?” I had to keep her talking for just a minute while I eased open the drawer behind me.
“Why not?” The freaky giggling got louder.
“But you were my friend.” I found what I was looking for and curled my fingers around the handle.
Stacy cocked her head at an unnatural angle. “Yes. I still am.” The horrible grin again. “Don’t fight me and I promise it won’t hurt. Not much, anyway.”
As she lunged towards me, I whipped the silver-plated cake server in front of me and held on to it with both hands. I scrunched my eyes closed as tightly as I could. I wasn’t sure it would work and I didn’t want to see what happened either way.
I felt a bump and heard screaming, snarling and bellowing, as much inside my head as in my ears. It was a tsunami of sound and I wondered if I would drown in it. I thought my head would implode. Then silence. I let go of the cake server, but found my hands were empty. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes.
Stacy and zombie Jeff were gone. Mom was lying on the floor, her left arm bent between her elbow and wrist. I crawled over to her. She was still breathing. I managed to drag myself over to the phone and called 911 before I passed out.
I gradually became aware of voices. My mom’s and my dad’s. I opened my eyes. Mom was sitting in a chair near the end of my bed, her arm in a cast and a sling. Dad was next to me. I was in a hospital room.
“Hey, Sunshine!” Dad, said, squeezing my hand.
There was no sign of Twila. Things were looking up. “What happened?” I asked, trying to shake the cobwebs off.
You broke your ankle and had a nasty blow to your head, baby. They wanted to keep you overnight for observation,” Mom said.
I don’t know if Mom remembered what happened. But I did. Every awful moment.
“Somebody broke into the house. Home invasion robbery. Odd thing was, the only thing they took was a silver-plated cake server,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Drugged out wackos.”
The door squeaked open and a nurse came in with a vase full of red and orange poppies. She set it on the counter by the sink. “What nice friends you have!” she said as she smiled and handed me the card.
Can’t wait to see you again. Get well soon! Love, Stacy
How Far Does the Apple Fall?
When I was very young, my mother had a little tan Chihuahua named Peaches. Everybody loved the little dog (my first word was “Peaches”), except for my paternal grandmother. She couldn’t stand Peaches and the feeling was mutual. Once when she and my grandfather were visiting, Peaches got sick in the middle of the night, and even though the vet was good enough to get out of bed and meet my mother at the clinic, the dog still died. I think I was about three, and I have disjointed, pastel memories of my mother coming home very early in the morning, crying, and a backyard funeral with a shady grave.
Fast-forward twenty years. My mother had been battling breast cancer for a couple of years, and Alzheimer’s was just settling in on my grandmother. She couldn’t remember what she had just eaten for lunch, but she could remember her stories from way back when. One of her favorites, that she told over and over, was about the time that my grandfather had taken to feeding a stray dog. She thought it was a waste of resources to feed a mongrel that nobody wanted, so one day, when my grandfather was out in the cotton field, she shot the dog.
The proverbial chill went down my spine. From the first time I ever heard the story, I wondered if she had done something to Peaches. I never asked her directly, because sometimes, it’s better to wonder than to know. But I think this is one of the roots of my fascination with sociopaths.
The Bridge Club
Ellen kissed her husband on the cheek. “Bye, Mark. See you later.”
“Have fun at your bridge club.” He didn’t look up from his football game on the TV, didn’t hear her sigh as she walked away from him.
A black-framed picture of a small blond boy hung by the back door. On her way out, she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them against the photo. It had been a year and a half since four-year old Daniel had died.
She turned the radio up loud after she started the engine. She needed that wall of noise to distract her from her own thoughts. It was still a few hours from twilight and the heat from the relentless sun shimmered on the pavement in black pools that disappeared as she moved closer to them. A lot like Mark, since The Party.
Three cars were already parked on the packed-down dirt near the bridge abutment. Kane was at the bridge railing, securing the rigging. Alma and Rodrigo sat on the hood of their car, talking aimlessly with Herky and Chuck. None of them, this new circle of friends, knew about The Party last spring. Ellen liked it that way. She didn’t have to be pricked by the guilt in their eyes when they talked to her. Guilt because her other friends, her old friends, had all been lounging in the pool, chatting away about guacamole sauce and vacations and nothing. Not one of them noticed the little boy slip under the water. It was her fault. She was his mother. She should have been watching. She told herself that she didn’t blame her friends, didn’t hate them. But if that was true, why did she avoid them now? Elyse called her at least once a week, but Ellen always let the calls go to voice mail, never returning them.
Ellen parked her beige family sedan next to Kane’s flashy red convertible. She had met him six months ago, at this same bridge. It was coming up on the one year anniversary of Daniel’s funeral. She had been standing on the pedestrian path, staring at the thrashing water, thinking of jumping.
“I’m gonna jump,” he had said, appearing out of thin air behind her.
“What?”
“I said I’m gonna to jump. Wanna have a go?” He had an accent that she thought might have been Australian. Even after six months, she hadn’t bothered asking.
Ellen had stared at him blankly. He smiled at her and fastened a thick rubber cord around one of the bridge supports. He put on fingerless gloves and slipped into a harness. Kane had slopped a quick kiss on her mouth before he hurled himself off the bridge. The dark cord snaked out behind him, whipping through the chilly January air. He bounced up and down a few times before he dangled at the end of the cord like a black and red spider, just above the water.
Then he started to climb back up the cord. It stretched and quivered as he inch-wormed his way back to the bridge. Grunting and sweating, he heaved himself over the railing. Ellen glimpsed the outlines of hard muscles as his flannel shirt stuck to the sweat on his back and sides.
“Ready for a go?” he’d asked, as if he were asking her to dance.
Ellen shrugged. “I’m no good at climbing rope.”
“S’all right. I’ll haul you up. I usually just drop into the water, but I don’t have my wetsuit today.”
“Yeah, okay. Why not?” It might be a good preview for plunging off the bridge with no cord attached.
“I’m Kane, by the way,” he had told her.
“I’m…El-Elyse.” She had given him a friend’s name. The friend who threw The Party.
Ellen hadn’t been to this bridge since the time she met Kane. She remembered that very first jump. She’d stood on the lip of the bridge, toes curling inside her shoes. Adrenalin had made her innards squirm and her hands tremble. Kane had said something to her, but she didn’t listen. She pulled in a deep breath of snow-fresh air and spread her arms. Closing her eyes, she let herself fall.
Her stomach lurched up into her throat. Rushing air pressed hard against her diaphragm and she couldn’t breathe. Her eyelids snapped open and she saw the frothing river rushing toward her. The rocks got bigger. She clenched her eyelids together, certain she would slam into the dark water. A tug at her waist pulled her back up for a few seconds, then she fell again. After a few bounces, she hung above the water. Even in the cold, she could smell the pungent mud on the river bank and the water and the stones. Her heart had throbbed against her ribs and her skin tingled.
Now, the only time she could feel anything was when she was hurtling toward the earth. That’s why she had joined the Bridge Club, why she was here now.
Ellen sat in her car, putting on lip balm and watching Kane. He was just finishing up. His bare back was to her, fresh sweat glistening on ripped muscles. He was easy to look at, easy to sleep with. She hadn’t intended to. He tried hard to please her, but she was beyond his reach. Sometimes, she let him believe that she wasn’t. She had gotten good at faking almost everything in the past eighteen months.
She opened the car door. The sticky smell of too much honeysuckle drifted up from the river bank, where a large vine of it had overpowered a rusty barbed wire fence. Shaking her head, Ellen locked her purse in the trunk and went to meet the rest of the Bridge Club. They met every Wednesday evening at 6:00 to bungee jump off of one of the many local bridges. Her husband thought she was playing cards. If the weather was bad, she usually went to Kane’s apartment.
“Hey, Elyse!” Alma called to her.
That name again. The once-upon-a-time-friend from a different life. “Hey. What’s Kane got for us tonight?” Ellen asked.
“Like you don’t know.”
Their affair was not exactly a secret. Ellen didn’t care what the others thought, not as long as she got to jump. They didn’t know anything about her. If they didn’t like her, screw ‘em.
“Got a new rig,” Kane said, coming down from the bridge. He tickled Ellen’s back. “Ankle harness.”
“Are you thinking head dips?” Herky asked.
“Seems too rocky here. Maybe Tanner Road Bridge would be better for that,” Rodrigo said, putting his arm around Alma.
“Nah,” Kane said. “Not going more’n a few inches in. Water’s maybe ten foot deep just under the bridge.”
“I’ll do it,” Ellen said. She didn’t care about their bickering. She just wanted to fly.
She followed Kane to the top of the bridge. He wrapped a towel around each of her calves, then strapped on the ankle harness. He told her things about jumping in an ankle harness, but she didn’t pay attention this time, either. A chilly puff of air tugged at her clothes and sent a shiver up her spine. It was just wrong in the summer heat. She was sure she heard a sound, the voice of a faraway child, carried on the breeze. “Mom! Mommy.”
She was finally starting to lose it. No one else seemed to hear it, so she pretended it was nothing. Even so, it flapped like a tattered grey moth inside her mind.
Kane helped Ellen to the edge of the bridge. She was desperate to go, to get that sound out of her head. As soon as she was clipped in, she dove, feet pushing hard off the concrete. The swirling water seemed to make a pattern. As she got closer, she could see a figure. Closer still, she could see Daniel. He was under the water, reaching both arms up to her. “I’m coming, baby!” she shouted, knowing it wasn’t, it couldn’t be him. Even so, she stretched out her arms to scoop him up out of the water, the way she should have done before.
She didn’t feel the rigging give way as her weight hit the end of the cord. She didn’t feel her neck break or her spine shatter as she hit the rocks. All she could feel was her little boy, back in her arms.
“I love you, Mommy,” he told her.
“I love you, too, baby.”
“It’s time to go.”
“Yes.” She didn’t even glance over her shoulder as Daniel led her into the blinding white light.
Guaranteed Free of Werewolves
I had a dream night before last that I was on a werewolf prevention committee for a school. We would run a blood test and something like an MRI on prospective students. Our classes were “Guaranteed 100% Werewolf Free!” A girl applied to our school (she was 10ish) and right away we knew she was a werewolf. There was a big meeting about why she had applied and who put her up to it. And now that we knew she was a werewolf, what were we going to do with her?
So, all day, I’ve been thinking about the nature of discrimination. Sure, there’s the good kind of discrimination where you’re able to tell whether that designer handbag on Craig’s List is the real deal or a cheap knock-off. But what about the kind where a group of people are excluded because of some trait or characteristic they have no control over (like skin color, left or right handedness, ethnicity)? Can that ever be good? If so, where does the line fall, and how blurry is it? While I don’t have any actual polling data to back up this claim, I would submit that that parents who are NOT opposed to their children being devoured by werewolves are the miniscule minority. But if werewolves only change during nights of the full moon, is this really an issue during school hours? Does that make it okay for boarding schools to discriminate against werewolves, but not day schools? Do all werewolves even want to devour children, or do our preconceptions and prejudices bestow truthiness on this idea? It makes me wonder how much threat is over-perceived from Others – those not “like” us. It’s certainly smart to be aware of “stranger danger.” But the truth is (at least statistically) that we are much more likely to be killed by someone we know.
A Concise History of Titiania’s Castle
By
Ashleigh Rowan
It all started well before short-lived humans were around to set things down on parchment. Through no fault of her own – family politics, it was – Titania was sent away from her home in Tir-na-nOg. She was hardly more than a slip of a girl and her mother had some trouble finding someone to take the child on. As it happened, Titania’s foster mother, whose name was Aisha, was a widow woman with a son, nearly a man. Magus was his name, and he and his mother were from the desert country, where folk have strange ways. They settled in the specific place the Morrigan had directed them in the Mundane world, in what is now called England. Titania’s mother, who was called the Morrigan, would from time to time visit her daughter in secret, always bringing her rich gifts, and none could tell how she came or went. Aisha was well compensated and the three of them lacked for nothing.
Magus had much in the way of magical talent, but sadly, no mentor in the Mundane world. All his life, he searched for the source of magic. As the years passed, his experiments caused circles of standing stones, strange beasts that were part lion and part eagle, and fire-breathing winged lizards. Titania grew into a beautiful young woman, and had not escaped the notice of mortal men. The Morrigan, fearing that her daughter might be despoiled before a suitable marriage could be arranged, changed her into a raven and brought Titania back to the land of Faery. She hid the young woman in the stables of an ancient castle, which had stood empty for as far back as any living could remember. It was enchanted such that none could enter the stronghold, but the outbuilding had no such charm. Such was the Morrigan’s desire for secrecy that she shared her plan with no one, not even Aisha and Magus.
Now when Aisha discovered that Titania was missing, she ran to Magus’ workshop, where she found him sitting on his bench. In his hand, he held a black sphere. It was the size of a glass marble, and yet ten strong mortal men would not have been able to lift it. When his mother came crashing through his doors, shouting and wailing, he was so taken aback that he dropped the sphere. It broke through the floor and fell away into the Earth, thundering as it went. Magus peered into the hole, and saw a strange light emanating from it. Gobsmacked, his mother forgot about Titania as she, too, peered into the hole.
Magus quickly tied a rope around his middle and made the other end fast to an iron ring set in the wall. His mother, surmising his plan, cried out to stop him, but to no avail. Into the hole he dropped and found himself in the land of Faery. When he saw firm ground, he quickly rolled aside before he was pulled further down the hole that receded into the dark Earth. He saw a plain and a wildwood, but little else. He untied the rope and set off to ascertain the lay of the land.
The place felt familiar to him, yet he recognized no landmarks. He found a stream and a small waterfall in the forest. He headed southeast, certain he should come upon a rocky escarpment with desert on the other side of it. After a time, he found the scarp and returned to the point he had entered. He knew he was near the spot that a curious ancient castle had stood when he had lived in Faery. There were no signs of its foundations, so he guessed that it had either been razed to the ground and all the stones carried away, or it was yet to be built. He carved his secret symbol at the feet of several saplings at the edge of the wildwood. Then he re-tied the rope and went back up the tunnel.
Aisha flung her arms around his neck as soon as she saw him, for she had begun to fear she had been deprived of both her son and foster daughter. Magus has spent the better part of a day exploring, and yet to his mother it seemed he had been gone less than three quarters of an hour. He recounted his adventure and she told him of Titania’s disappearance. He tore at his hair in grief and bade his mother to stay at the house, should Titania return, while he went to seek the help of the Morrigan. For speed, he changed himself into a crow and sought her first in Tir-na-nOg, but her handmaiden told him she was away, attending to a family matter, but would not say wither she had journeyed.
Magus had a suspicion where she might be and, in the form of a crow, flew to the area he had explored only just this morning. There was the castle, and when he checked the wood, he found two ancient trees bearing his mark high on their trunks. He flew to the castle and perched on a parapet, considering this hole in space and time, until he spied the Morrigan slipping out of one of the stable doors. She looked up, and in spite of his disguise, she knew him. She called to him and he was compelled to come to her, changing into his true form. She handed him a satchel and bade him take it to his mother, and convey the Morrigan’s thanks for her service. Then she bound his eyes and took his hand to lead him. When the blindfold was removed, he found himself behind his own workshop, alone. He went into his mother’s house and told his tale. She was sore aggrieved and took to her room.
Unable to sleep, Magus took himself to his workshop, where he found the door opened and strange footprints upon the floor. A spire of black rock descended into the hole and Magus followed it. He found that in this olden version of Faery, it was dusk. To his horror, creatures most ugglesome were climbing out from the hole in the ground of Faery and some were even capering about in the meadow. They seemed to him to be as reptiles that walked on two legs and he challenged them. One came forward and he beseeched Magus for mercy and offered the allegiance of his people. After treating with the creature, whose name was Gugōl, Magus accepted an invitation to visit the world of these strangers. Translated, the name of this place is Everdark. He climbed down the black spire into the gloom.
The Everdark was the most fearsome and wondrous place Magus had yet seen. Pinpricks of light from far distant stars and ghastly glowing fungi were the only illumination. Rocks floated and collided in the air with direful groans and water ran uphill. Nothing seemed to work as he expected, or by any rule that he could discover, and glad he was to set his feet back in Faery.
No sooner had Magus returned from the Everdark, but he heard a terrible screaming and wailing. One of the creatures was clambering down from the Mundane world, dragging Aisha by the hair. Anger flashed from his eyes in the form of lightning bolts, striking the monster dead. Magus caught his mother before she could tumble into the Everdark. He cast as many of the foul creatures as he could catch back into the hole and covered it with a boulder. Cunning Gugōl was not among the captured. As penance, an onus was laid on Magus and all his kin to pursue the people of Gugōl as long as they should trouble the realms of Faery and the Mundane.
Now, as Magus’ foster sister, Titania was also under this onus. With the help of the Morrigan, a great castle was erected and the fireplace in the main hall covered the hole that lead to the Everdark. An enchantment was cast upon it so that only Magus could enter and return; for all others, the way back to Faery was shut. Aisha, Magus, his cousin Oberon, and Titania stayed in the past realm of Faery and trained at the castle. They hunted Gugōl’s foul people, then cast them into the great fireplace and back into the Everdark. After a year and a day, there was a terrible shaking and trembling of the land. It seemed to be centered upon the fireplace, so Magus again tied a rope around himself and fixed it fast to the hearthstone before leaping into the hole. And well he did, for the Everdark was gone. In its place, the end of the tunnel bucked like a wild horse and waved to and fro as a pennant in a strong wind. It took all his strength and magic to pull himself back up the rope to safety.
For a fortnight, Aisha, Magus, Titania and Oberon searched high and low, but all of the folk of the Everdark seemed to be routed from Faery. So they magically sealed up the castle and inside it Fragarach, the famous sword of Lugh, which could rend any armor, and they returned to their own time.
In his fervor to rid Faery of the people of Gugōl, which are now called demons, Magus forgot about the ones that had made their way to the Mundane world. They had been multiplying for a thousand years while he was gone. The castle, now ancient, was unsealed and Titania and Oberon married and made their home there. They gathered magical horses and equipment and Magus trained warriors and mages to enter the Mundane world and capture demons. And so it went until Magus and Titania were both slain and Oberon died of grief. But their descendants carry on their mission to this very day.
Freak Show
P.T. Barnum didn’t invent freak shows, but he elevated them to the next level. He was the ultimate promoter and he knew what people liked. Freak show detractors said, “What about human rights? What about the dignity of the performers?” The freaks tended to respond, “Dignity, schmignity. Have you seen our paychecks?” But circuses themselves have fallen on hard times and sideshows with them.
But the freak show never really lost its appeal. It just goes by a different name: Reality TV. Clearly, there wouldn’t be much drama if sensible people were stuck in an unrealistic situation in front of TV cameras. I don’t know what the personality disorder criteria are for participant selection, but they have to put the “fun” in dysfunctional somehow. And so we have Snooki’s booki. I would like to think that Snooki is a persona that Nicole Polizzi puts on for the benefit of the Jersey Shore audience, and that while everyone is laughing at Snooki’s book, Nicole is laughing all the way to the bank. I choose to believe that, because otherwise it would make me sad to think that Snooki really believed that her book was good literature that people would choose to read, right after they finished that Janet Evanovich or Sue Grafton book. And for that to happen, more than one person would have had to have been in on taking advantage of an intellectually challenged person. And that’s just mean. But as David Hannum (not P.T. Barnum) once said, “There’s a sucker born every minute.”
Soap!
Few things smell as good to me as freshly made cold process soap. Something about soapmaking appeals to the mad scientist in me. I offered to donate a basket of handmade soaps to the silent auction at the Cheval Bayard release party. It was a little more adventure than I bargained for today, though. When I climbed up on a chair to reach the lye in the cupboard above the refrigerator, I almost dropped a box of jelly jars. After I added my lye water to my oils (olive, coconut and soybean), the soap wouldn’t trace. That’s never happened to me. But then I discovered a big lump of lye in the bottom of the jar. I briefly thought about dumping in the chunk and breaking it up with the stick blender. I could have labeled it “Mini-Peel in a Bar!” But I dumped that batch and made another, which nearly set up in the pot when I added the lavender oil. I got a little pre-soap spatter on my cheek (yes, I always wear safety glasses!) and had to put some vinegar on it. But I could only find mirin (seasoned rice vinegar). And I knocked over the jar of lavender EO. I ended up smelling kind of like lavender sushi. But that batch of lavender soap used up the last of my olive oil and I had to take the kids to Phoenicia on the way home from school to get some more. I love that market. Made another batch of unscented soap when we got home. I may throw in some bath fizzies and MP glycerin soaps, if I have enough time.
Cheval Bayard Release Party!
One girl. One horse. Who else is going to save the world?
If Sarah Reeves was a faery instead of a human, it would be a whole lot easier for her to get what she wants: to ride Cheval Bayard in an elite competition; to earn a spot on the Mundane Intervention Team; and for Brendan Greenwood to like her. But Regan, her archrival at the stables is doing everything she can to steal Cheval Bayard out from under Sarah. There are more students than spaces for the Mundane Intervention Team, and competition is fierce. And Brendan inexplicably likes mean-girl Dahlia. It’s enough to make Sarah wonder if she should leave the realm of Faerie and return to the Mundane world, where she might feel like less of a freak. After all, she seems to be the one person who is painfully ordinary in a place where everyone and everything is magic. But when she and her friends stumble upon a terrifying conspiracy, her humanity may be the only thing that can save both worlds.
Black Mare Books is teaming up with Blue Ribbon Equine Rescue to throw a party for the upcoming release of Cheval Bayard.
Where: Blue Ribbon Meadows, 25150 Beckendorf Road, Katy, Texas
When: Saturday, November 13 from 10:00 AM to Noon
What: Book signing, refreshments and silent auction
One of the items in the silent auction is YOUR NAME in an upcoming release from Black Mare Books.
100% of the silent auction proceeds and 15% of book sales will benefit Blue Ribbon Equine Rescue (a 501c). The rescue works extensively with the Houston SPCA to save abused and neglected horses. They normally average around 20 horses available for adoption at any given time. Please consider filling out an application and viewing the horses at the farm who are looking for forever homes.
Start on your holiday shopping early with great items from the silent auction. Autographed books make great presents!