Prompt:  Parents look on in horror as a magician’s trick goes horribly awry during a child’s birthday party.

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Charles hurriedly grabbed any clothes he could find and stuffed the suitcase with as much as it could bear, not paying attention to the contents that went in.  He was more worried about the mob outside that was coming for him.  They’d catch up to him eventually.  He wanted to be on the road long before that happened.  The bitch of it was, he was completely innocent.  That’s the way he felt at least.

Charles, otherwise known as Charlie Remarkable, and his girlfriend and lovely assistant, Diamond Darla were booked for a party over the weekend.  He wasn’t the best magician, but it was a small town, kids were easy to please and parents were just happy that their kids were out of their hair for a half hour.  He went through his usual routine of card tricks and handkerchief illusions.  He even pulled a bunny out of a hat.  His time was running out so he walked over to the cabinet.  It was his brand new black lacquered cabinet with intricate scrolls painted in gold along the edges.  He and Darla had practiced the disappearing act countless times.  It had to be timed just right so that no one would know where Charles was hiding within the walls of the cabinet.  The birthday party was the perfect place to take it for a test run.  He recruited the family’s teenage son to be part of the act.

“All you have to do is stand inside the cabinet for about a minute.  I’ll open the door after we say the magic word,” Charles instructed.

“Got it,” Philip replied.

Of course, the kid wouldn’t disappear and Charles would step in the cabinet to see what was wrong.  Darla would rebelliously close the door, and have the kids say the magic word.  Charles would disappear and reappear a little agitated.  He’d forgive Darla in a few seconds, they would take a bow, and then they’d pack up and go home.  When the time came for the finale, Charles asked the birthday boy, “Want me to make your brother disappear?”

The birthday boy blushed.  “Yes,” he managed to squeak out through his giggle.

As discussed beforehand, Philip stepped in the cabinet, hamming it up for the younger kids.  Charles closed the door.  “Now on the count of three, I’m going to need you all to say the magic word with me.  One, two, three…REMARKULOUS!”  Charles opened the door, but paused when he saw that Philip was no longer there.  Thinking perhaps he had found the hidden chamber of the cabinet, Charles shut the door again and tried to go along with it.  “And NOW let’s bring him back.  On the count of three, kids.  One, two, three…REMARKULOUS!”  Charles opened the door again, expecting to see Philip there.  To his surprise, the cabinet remained empty.  He made eye contact with Darla in a serious way, wondering if she knew what was happening.  She made a slight shrug and a little shake of the head.  “HAHAHA!  Remarkable, I say.  You kids are so magical, the lad is stuck in the alternate realm.  Darla, why don’t you go in there and fetch him out?”  Darla, stepped inside and Charles closed the door.  He waited a few seconds because he knew she just had to check behind the secret door.  When he opened it again, fully expecting to see two people in the doorway, it was just Darla with a nervous smile on her face.

“Find him?”

“No,” Darla said, shoulders tensed and lips tucked in.

The parents started getting looks of annoyance and concern on their faces.  The kids were getting antsy because nothing was happening.  To Charles’ relief, one of the party goers shouted from behind, “OKAY!  Who wants cake and ice cream?”  The smiles returned to the kids’ faces and they all got up to wash their hands.

The mother confronted Charles.  “What’s going on?”, she asked.

“Quite frankly, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”  The worry lines on her face got deeper as she asked these questions.

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Where is my son?”

“Ma’am, there’s only two different places he could have gone.  Outside the box or in this hidden space.  Nobody saw him leave and he’s not behind this door.  I don’t know what happened to him.  I know that sounds crazy, but that’s the truth.”

“No no no.  You need to produce my son right now.”

“I would.  I WOULD if I knew where he was, but I don’t.”

She looked at Charles with an unbelieving face for a moment before walking over to the cabinet herself.  She opened it up and looked inside.  She found the opening to the secret compartment and looked inside.  Nothing.  No one was in that cabinet.

“You have to know where my son is.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know what to tell you.  This has never happened before.”

“I’m going to go look in the house.  If he’s not there, I’m calling the police.”

Charles and Darla packed up their equipment and went home quickly before the other parents could catch on to what was happening.  Later on, Charles was questioned by officers, but was never arrested.  Even so, Charles was given disapproving looks by the townsfolk anywhere he had gone that week.  People that had been friendly with him all his life were now cold and eyed him with suspicion.

It wasn’t until tonight that anyone had gotten confrontational with him.  Charles was hesitant to go out at all with such a heavy atmosphere, but he felt that staying away from the public eye would imply guilt.  He walked down to the local bar.  If no one would talk to him, he would at least have some alcohol in his system.  As he stared into his scotch on the rocks, he noticed that someone had taken the seat next to him.  When he looked over, Philip’s father was sitting there, staring ahead.  He was sweaty and his eyes drooped.  Still, after a moment, he looked over at Charles.  “You fucked with the wrong family,” he said in a tone that sent chills down Charles’ spine.  Not knowing what to say and not wanting any trouble, Charles paid for his drink and left.  He was happy to be able to breathe again.

When he got home, the car was gone.  Darla had taken it over to a friend’s house.  She wasn’t as bold as Charles.  The stares bothered her.   He grabbed a beer for himself and started to settle into the couch.  Before he could find a channel he liked, his phone started ringing.  A frantic Darla was on the other end.

“Charles, pack up everything you can.  I’m going to be there in five minutes.  We have to leave right now.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.  He had never heard Darla talk this way before.

“I was with April right now.  Bill just called her and told her a bunch of people were on their way over.  They want to hurt us.”  She was sobbing into the phone now.

“Okay, Darla.  Calm down.  It’s going to be okay.  We’ll go away for a while.  Call me back when you’re outside.”

It took him a while to find the suitcase.  They didn’t travel very often.  He started grabbing the clothes from the floor, from the hamper, from the drawers.  He kept checking outside the window every few seconds to see if he could see the headlights of the Honda.   After the 10th time of looking out of the window, he did see headlights.  Lots of headlights.  They all lined the street in front of his house.  He didn’t know how many people were outside, but he soon found that they were encircling his house.  There was no way out.

One of them yelled out, “We wanna talk to you, Charles.”

Charles dared not answer them back.  He didn’t want to give up, but he felt completely helpless.  He knew the worst case scenario here was inevitable, but he wanted to stave it off for as long as possible.  There was more shouting outside and pounding on the door.  All he could do was look for a place to hide.  He looked to the corner of the room and eyed his magic cabinet curiously.  He walked toward it, resigned now that he wasn’t going to get away even if he hadn’t done anything wrong.  He opened the door and stepped inside.  “Where could that boy have gone?” Charles thought to himself.  The pounding on the door was getting worse.  They were trying to break it down.  “Remarkulous,” he whispered into the darkness.

The door gave way and the people outside started filing in.  They looked all over the house but couldn’t find Charles anywhere.  When Philip’s father came to the room with the mysterious cabinet in it, he took out all of his rage upon it.  The cabinet was completely demolished by the time he was done with it.  Satisfied that they wouldn’t find Charles there, the crowd left the house.

By this time, Darla was on the highway heading towards the city where her parents lived.  Tears streamed down her face.  She had left the man she loved to a pack of wolves.  She was too scared to stop when she finally arrived at the house so she just kept on going down the street.  The decision would always haunt her for the rest of her life.  She never knew what happened to Charles that night or what he was doing now.  In fact, he was never heard from again.

I’m going to be starting a vlog project soon.  Everything will be posted on this blog still.  It’ll be something that I do in addition to the writing blogs.  There’s opportunity for participation from anyone that happens to be following along.  This will launch some time in the next couple of months.  I’ll give details later, but I’m pretty excited about it because it’s going to be something that will enrich my life and my reading list.  In the mean time…more writing…

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The sounds, a slap-hazard mix of bells, groans and raucous laughter, echoed around the empty church.  David violently fell to his knees.  He thought they couldn’t get him here.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” and so on he chanted in a frenzy.  The words soothed.  The vocal vibrations planted him firmly back into reality.  He thought if he could keep the holy verbiage flowing, they would go away.

He couldn’t keep it flowing though.  Fear had already crept in and taken hold, tying his tongue, chilling his core.  The laughter bounced from one wall to the next, taking on an omnipresent quality.  The hopelessness enveloped him.  There was nowhere he could go to hide.

“The Lord is my shepherd.  I shall not want,” and so on he said through gritted teeth when Haily Mary’s lost their touch.  He heard the door creak open.  He dared not open his eyes.  “I fear no evil, for you are with me,” he continued louder, hoping volume would give them cause to let him stay, to pass him by.

Rocking back and forth, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  “David, can you stand?” came the hideous voice from above.

“Leave me alone in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” he shouted as he put his face to the ground, covering his head, protecting himself with more recitations.

“David, do you know where you are?” the voice spoke again.

When he took his hands away from his face and opened his eyes, he saw the beasts surrounding him.  The Lord had forsaken him.  He looked down at his hands.  They were dripping with his own blood.  He let out a guttural scream that mixed in with the laughing and the bells and the groans.

“We need you to come with us,” they said as they reached out to pull him up.

David writhed on the ground trying to escape the hands like a fish caught in a net.  “Don’t take me,” he pleaded with them over and over.

One beast looked to another and nodded.  The others circled and held David down.  He screamed for mercy, but it was no use.  He felt a piercing pain in his arm, a burning, a release.  He surrendered.  He went limp.  He let them take him.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” the priest said to the medic.

“No problem.  We’ll take him down to the hospital and see if we can locate family.  If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call again.”

The sirens echoed through the empty church, eventually dissipating, all sound culminating with a priests sigh.

I came across a writing contest for short stories that are 100 words or less.  I’m not sure why, but I kind of like the restraint.  It forces one to choose words wisely and elaborate where you might not have before.  I first discovered my love for these kinds of assignments in college.  I had a professor that had us write two essays.  One was to be three pages and the other was to be ten pages.  When explaining the assignments, he warned us that he didn’t mean “about” three/ten pages.  The essay would be considered incomplete if it didn’t reach the last line of the last page and any excess pages would be torn off and thrown away without being looked at.  At first, I rolled my eyes.  Why the need to be so nitpicky?  I still don’t know the reason why, but being the good little student I was, I sat down and started typing my little heart out.  I found that I actually liked moving things around, choosing different phrases, embellishing here, editing there…  It’s quite soothing, actually.  So now when I find little word challenges like the six word memoir or the 100 word story, I get a little excited and want to try my hand at it.  To keep it interesting, I’ll be using #2 from the 50 First Lines project that I mentioned in my last entry.

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The day after the universe ended, Tasha decided to go for a walk.  Go for a walk?  The whole meaning had change.  After spending her whole life trying to get somewhere, it threw Tasha into a state of shock and panic to all of a sudden have nowhere to be.  There wasn’t even a ground to stand on.  Just a vast sea of nothing and nowhere.  The rules that existed before didn’t apply.  Gravity, energy, time…things of the past.  Tasha was still here though.  So she decided to go for a walk, whatever that means for whatever it was worth.

Ya…I couldn’t even go a few weeks without breaking my book resolution.  I had a good reason though.  It was completely not my fault.  An online friend and I decided to start our own little book exchange program.  He sent me a book by an author he just knew I’d love if I gave him a chance.  So a few weeks ago, I received What You Make It by Michael Marshall Smith.  It’s a collection of short stories.  It took me a while to get through the first 10 pages of the first story.  I was worried that I might have to jump ship and a little pained to do so because with this book…feelings were at stake.  I soldiered on through though and was wow’d by the ending.  I love surprises, even if they are gruesome.  As far as I can tell, I really am going to fall in love with this book.  I now have to make a selection to send off to England soon.  I’m thinking Disco Bloodbath by James St. James.  No surprise endings here, but I love the writing style and it really does justice to the genesis of the club kid phenomena and the early stages of Electronic Dance Music as well as being the most entertaining and flashy true crime novel I’ve ever happened upon.  I do intend to get back on the wagon and finish the books that I have.  Any books that I receive from the book exchange will be my only exceptions.

In other news…my little zombie love story that could did not win the short story contest.  I do get a prize for being a runner up, but I don’t know what the prize is as it was not listed originally in the contest thread.  As I’ve said, I like surprises, so I didn’t ask.  With luck, I will get it this week.

I will write something today.  A friend of mine has a little project going called 50 First Lines.  Here…I’ll let him explain the project!

http://jramboz.wordpress.com/50-first-lines/

I might be taking a few of these, but I’ll start with the first.

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When I was your age, I was dead and spending most of my time in Poughkeepsie.  It was hard to leave.  Scary.  I wouldn’t even leave my house for the first few months.  I drowned in this pool.  No one was around.  I was bored.  I attempted a flip in the air and hit my head pretty hard on the edge on my way into the water.  That was it.  My last memory of the living world was a lound *thunk*.  There was a rush, a few minutes of silence, a jolt through my being and then I was looking at my own lifeless body.  It bobbed up and down with the gentle waves in the pool still echoing from the big splash I had made.  I stared at it, mesmerized and confused, as it floated from one spot to the next, bouncing off a wall occasionally.  It was my mother that found me hours later.  Much too late.  I don’t like to think about that moment.  We don’t need to talk about it.

After all the necessary arrangements, my family was pretty sad for a long time.  I never saw mom’s effortless smile ever again.  Her laugh never went back to normal either.  There was something different about all of them.  I just wandered around the house for the first few months, observing, wanting to participate, holding back.  It’s not like they could hear me anyways.  I would pick up things that I liked when no one was there.  I’d walk around with it, admiring and remembering.  In death, as in life, those items would never quite make it back to the places they were before, causing a ripping apart of the house every time and many accusatory discussions about organization and private space between family members.

They moved.  Nobody ever went out to the backyard.  My mother kept the windows on that side of the house closed, and the curtains drawn.  It was just too much, so they moved.  I stayed.  I didn’t think I had a choice.  Without anyone or anything I loved around anymore, I drifted further and further into melancholia until the house was so heavy, the woman that was supposed to sell it never stayed more than an hour before sunset.  She would act spry and excited about the home’s features when she was showing it to a prospective owner, but everyone could feel the darkness.  They’d ooh and aah at the selling points, and shiver on the way out.

I needed to leave.  Not everyone makes the choice.  Some are just thrust out before they’re really ready.  I just wanted to connect with something again.  I couldn’t stay where I was.  After all the old things were gone, the house held less and less appeal to me.  I went into the woods and found the creek I liked to walk along.  At first, only for short periods of time before returning home.  Every once in a while though, while I was walking the old path, retracing steps, someone else would be there.  They would turn around quickly.  “Did you hear that?” they might ask a friend, looking straight through me before writing the noises off to guilty consciences or overactive imaginations.  Then, I started staying longer and longer.  I liked the recognition, and didn’t feel as awkward as I did with the realtor.  That wasn’t the only reason though.  Every once in a while, when I was still, I’d see people walking amongst the trees.  They looked at me.  Not through me.  At me.  They could see me.  It was curiosity that drew me to the woods.

One day, I was on my path, and I sensed someone next to me.  I looked and an older man was walking with me.  I stopped to see what his next reaction would be.  He stopped too.  We faced each other in silence.

“You can see me.” I said.  Not a question.  Just a statement to break the silence.

“I’m dead.  You’re dead.  We can see each other.  Thems the rules.”  His voice came out deep and gravelly but friendly.   A hint of Southern drawl colored his speech.

“Why don’t the others talk to me?”

“Some folks like to keep to themselves.  Me, I’m a people person.  Always have been.  I can leave you alone if you’re one of them folks that like to keep to themselves, but something tells me you’re not.”

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“If you could go anywhere in the world, would you really choose Poughkeepsie?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never been anywhere else.  Why are you here now if this isn’t a dream destination?”

“It was callin’ to me.  When you have all the time in the world and no prior commitments, you tend to answer those calls.” He motioned toward the pathway.  “Shall we?”

As we started walking again, the questions kept flowing.  He answered patiently, like someone that has all the time in the world.  Eventually, I got to the one that had been especially bothersome to me in my solitude.

“Am I going to be here forever?”

“You can leave at any time.  It’s up to you.  You’re not stuck here.  If you feel like you are, it’s all in your head.  All you have to do is start walkin’.”

“Where would I go?”

“Kid, just start walkin’.  You’ll know where you’re supposed to be when you get there.”

“I guess…I just thought there was another side of things.”

“There is.  You have to be sure you want to go there first though.   Once you go to the other side, you can’t come back.  Thems the rules.”

We got to the edge of the woods, and I was confronted with the vastness of an entire universe that was truly mine for the taking.  I took one step and another.  I just started walking.  I’ve been many places.  I’ve seen many things.  Scared the shit out of a few people.  I’m not quite through yet.  I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be ready for the other side, but I just thought I’d let you in on all of your choices.  It really is up to you.  When I was your age, I was dead and spending most of my time here, but you’re not exactly dead…yet.  You can go back to your body now and join the living again, you can stay as you are, or you can cross over.  There’s no right or wrong choice, but you don’t have very long to make it.  No pressure or anything.

I think I’ve gotten a little better with updating this blog and it’s making me feel a little bit accomplished.  I have a hard time following through so I’m proud of myself for at least keeping this up.  Today, I have a book review and a favor to ask.  First with the favor.  The short story I posted a couple of months ago was chosen as a finalist in a short story contest.  I’m thrilled, but it’s only one of ten finalists.  The winner is the story with the most votes.  Click the link and vote for “My Ruby” if you liked it enough.  Give the other stories a read too.  There are some fun ones.

Zombie Nation Short Story Finalist List

Now…don’t get the idea that exciting stuff happens for me all the time.  It doesn’t.  However, when I only post something once a month, it may seem that way.  With that said, the past couple of months have been very exciting for me.  Why?  I met my literary idol.  Barbara Kingsolver came to Los Angeles to sign her new book The Lacuna.  That does NOT happen.  She rarely visits Los Angeles which makes this a real treat.  She gave a little talk about the new book and about her past work.  Afterwards, she signed any books that your brought to her.  When I finally got up to her, I was like a fan girl.  I couldn’t even speak.  What do you say to someone that completely changed the way you look at books?  I didn’t know either.  I did get a picture with her though.  She looks completely terrified in it.  I will still cherish it dearly.

My top ten books is a work in progress and will probably never be set in stone, but I have a feeling that it will always include The Poisonwood Bible.   Let me give you just a little clue as to what kind of genius Mrs. Kingsolver is.  The book is narrated by the Price daughters.  The one daughter that I looked forward to hearing from the most was Ada.  She was very cerebral and didn’t say much to her family, but to the reader she comes off as brilliant.  She has a fascination with palindromes, and there are entire passages written in palindromes.  Not short sentences.  No, no.  ENTIRE PASSAGES!  These sentences aren’t random and disconnected either.  They form one complete coherent thought.  Ever since then, I’ve worshipped at the altar of Kingsolver.

Needless to say, when  I caught wind that there was to be a new novel, I was ecstatic.  All the blurbs about it were a bit misleading though.  Barbara discussed this in her talk as being an unfortunate part of marketing that she had very little to do with.  It was marketed as a book about Frida Kahlo and Lev Trotsky.  While they had significant roles in the book, it is not exactly a biography.  Not entirely anyway.  The book is about a fictional character named Harrison Shepherd.  It follows him from his boyhood growing up in Mexico to his eventual rise as a beloved American author.  He does work for Diego Rivera which leads to a lifelong friendship with Frida Kahlo and employment with Lev Trotsky which is how they ended up in the blurbs.  We do not learn about his life directly.  The book is written as journal entries, letters, and newspaper clippings with little excerpts from Shepherds assistant, Violet Brown.  The overlying theme is a question: What does it mean to be American?  Some very important events in U.S. history are touched on in this book- Japanese internment, World War II, the Red Scare.  It was a very interesting read.  As always, Barbara produces writing that is elegant, sigh inducing, thought provoking, and clever.  Pardon me while I go bow down to the altar of Kingsolver once again.

I’m now reading Bright Shiny Morning by James Frey.  I’ve had this book for a year.  I’m just now getting around to reading it because…among other resolutions…I’ve vowed to read all the books I’ve been hoarding and will not allow myself to buy anything new until then.  Follow through, bibliophile…follow through…

This year has been so up and down for me.  I’m just happy to have survived it.  Hopefully, next year will see more ups.  Dogs are the best, I’m convinced.  They give and give and give and don’t expect much except for a full bowl of food once a day, water, and a pat on the back.  Of course, mine are spoiled and get much more.  If anything can be said for this year, I’m thankful to at least have these two bitches in my life.

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Ginger:  Mommy, what does “sit” mean?

Sophie:  Sitting is this comfy little position here. *demonstrates*

Ginger:  Oooooh…THAT’S what it is!  Granny keeps telling me to do it and I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Sophie:  Does she usually have something in her hand when she says it?

Ginger:  Ya.

Sophie:   She’s training you!

Ginger:  Um.  What does that mean?

Sophie:  There comes a time in every young ladies life where the human expects certain behaviors from you.  It’s an exciting time!  You get TONS of good things.

Ginger:  Is that why I get food?

Sophie:  Yes.

Ginger:  I’m still not clear about how this works.

Sophie:  Okay…so…Mommy is gonna have something in her hand and she’s going to tell you what she wants you to do.  Right now, she’s working on “sit”.  Right after she says it, you do this.  *demonstrates*  Then, she gives you whatever is in her hand!

Ginger:  So…I’m expected to do this ALL the time?

Sophie:  Only when she has something in her hand.  If she doesn’t, I just pretend like I didn’t hear her.

Ginger:  Okay.  Sounds manageable.  Let’s practice.

Sophie:  Okay.  We’re standing….we’re standing…Ginger, sit!

Ginger:  *wags tail*

Sophie:  Ginger…sit.

Ginger:  *turns around in a circle*

Sophie:  Oh boy.  This isn’t going to go well…

First thing is first.  Chicago was a blast.  Not that I saw much of it.  My friends and I were having way too much fun in the hotel room to really go out.  I still went out to a few clubs at night and had the obligatory deep dish pizza.  Overall, I was pleased with my vacation.  When I got back to LA, we were in the throes of the Halloween season.  I’m not really a holiday person, but I am emphatically pro-Halloween.  I wish it was October all year round just for the cute decorations.  I thought I’d write a story to celebrate the season.  In true Liberry Lady fashion, it’s about a week late.  Oh well.

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“Kiss me,” Ruby whispered into the night.

I leaned forward in the darkness and found her lips.  She had on watermelon flavored chapstick.  She always tasted good, with or without artificial fruit flavors.  We got lost there for a moment before I felt her push me away.

“Ok.  I really have to go in now” she said.

“Alright.  Have a good night,” I whispered back as I smoothed her hair behind her ear.  Her face glowed in the moonlight as she looked up at me and gave me the crooked smile I had come to adore.  She disappeared into the house and I started to walk home.

It was fantastic to be in love.  I think that’s what it was anyway.  It made my whole world different.  Ruby gave me something to look forward to every day.  She was smart and funny, she introduced me to new music and food and cultures.  She always smelled good.  When we were laying in bed, I would take in her scent.  She would always look at me like I was crazy for doing it and shake her head, but those were my favorite moments with her.  I took my time walking home that night.  I didn’t live far, but I liked replaying evenings with her over in my head.  It brought a pleasure to me that lasted long after we said our good nights.

I almost didn’t see that man walking towards me.  It seemed a little late for a guy as old as he to be out walking alone.  I certainly had never seen him before.  I wouldn’t have thought too much of it, but he seemed to be having trouble walking.  When he got a little closer, there was something different about his face- something clearly wrong.  I called out to him, “Sir, are you alright?”  He didn’t answer me.  He just kept lumbering toward me at a slow, steady pace.  Something wasn’t right.  I had to help the poor guy.  I jogged the rest of the way to him.  If he didn’t want me to call anyone, the least I could do was make sure he got to where he was going alright.  I tried getting him to speak to me again.  He didn’t answer, but he reached out for me.  I lurched forward to make sure he didn’t fall.  Before I could ask if he was okay, he bit into me.  He tore away the flesh from my shoulder.  I pushed him off, but he rebounded and came back after me.  I didn’t want to hurt him, but there was nothing else I could do.  I would push and he would just come back for more.  I took a swing at him with everything I had,  but that didn’t seem to affect him at all.  It just gave him a chance to grab onto my arm and start ripping away more flesh.  The pain was excruciating and I knew he was just too crazy to reason with.  I pushed him away and started running.  The limp that first drew me to him allowed me to get away.

I ran straight to my house, jumped in my car and headed to the nearest emergency clinic.  I started feeling sick on the way there.  I had to be losing a lot of blood.  The wounds were gaping and I could see the bone in my arm as I tried to remain calm and alert while I was steering.   I couldn’t believe what was happening to me.  I just got schooled by an old man.  What would even cause someone to act out so violently?

I finally made it to the clinic, but by then I had already broken into a cold sweat.  It was getting hard to focus.  I just had to sit still for a while.  Firefly-like lights danced around before me when I had my eyes open.  I stumbled out of the car.  I thought I would at least make it to the door, but I don’t remember that part.  I just remember the cold and the fireflies and the muffled sound of sirens growing more and more distant.

I woke up in the hospital.  It’s scary to wake up somewhere strange when you don’t know how you got there.  I expected to feel a little more pain at the site of the bite marks.  What was strange was that I didn’t feel any pain at all.  Nothing.  Nothing, except for hunger.  Pangs in my gut that were overwhelming me.  Even stranger was that I seemed to have been abandoned.  I was in the ER, but I didn’t hear any nurses or patients or any kind of human activity on the other side of the curtain.  I wasn’t attached to any machinery either.  The whole situation was weirding me out, so I got out of the bed to check what was going on outside.  It was a wobbly shuffle to the curtain, but I expected as much considering the ordeal I had just gone through.  When I drew the curtain open, I couldn’t see anyone.  I ventured further out.  The telephone rang, but no one ever came to answer it.  I knew then something major must have happened.  I made my way down the hall wondering where everyone had went.  It was unsettling.  I could tell I was a little out of it still because it was taking me forever to find the exit.

When I stepped into the open air, what I saw was pure disaster.  There was no one in the street, but smoke filled the skyline.  Cars were left in pieces up and down the boulevard.  The stillness and silence was eerie.  When I took a breath, I smelled the gasoline, the smoke, the burnt flesh, and her- my Ruby.  I had to get to her.  I had to make sure she was somewhere safe. 

I followed the sweet scent that I knew so well by now.  It led me through the city and back into the suburbs.  As I walked, I faced the true horror of whatever occurred while I was sleeping at every turn of the corner.  Bodies, or what was left them, were strewn about the streets.  I never was able to steady myself, but the carnage I was witnessing made me want to get to Ruby that much faster.  I still smelled her, and all I wanted to do was be close to her.  An urgency started to build up inside of me.

As I drew closer to Ruby, I started to notice that there were others.  There were survivors.  They walked around in a daze, wounded and groaning.  Some appeared to have gone through more trauma than others.  Looking around, I felt lucky that I was unconscious for whatever caused this mess in the first place.  It didn’t seem like it left many unaffected.  I don’t know if I could have handled that type of terror.  However, I was here now and relatively unscathed if I were to compare myself to the others I saw around me. 

I was led to her house.  She didn’t have any roommates, so I knew she had to be by herself in there.  She must have been scared to have lived through this all alone.  I banged on the door.  I could hear sounds inside, but no one answered the door.  I decided to call her name.  “Ruby!”, I started to say, but it came out as a loud grunt.  I hadn’t tried speaking before this.  “Ruby…” I tried again with the same result.  I heard crying inside the house now.  A wave of panic swept over me.  I didn’t know what was happening to me or Ruby or the city but I needed to get inside this house.  I threw myself against the door.  Once, twice, three times, and on the fourth the door gave away. 

I looked around and inhaled.  Ruby was all around me now.  The scent that brought me here was overpowering and palpable.  My lips ached to be on hers, to hold her in my arms, to have her body against mine.  I started walking down the hallway.  At the end, I found the bedroom.  I could hear muffled cries coming from inside.  I tried calling her name one more time only to produce the same awkward grunts.  I knew she wouldn’t come to the door herself, so I threw myself against it.  It opened a little ways but there was something in front of it blocking my way in.  I opened the door as far as it would go to survey the room.

“Robert!” I heard her shriek.  The muffled cries grew into sobs as I spotted her huddled in the corner.  I tried speaking to her, but no words would form.  I banged against the piece of furniture until it dislodged from its post.  Ruby screamed.  She seemed scared of me.  I walked over to her.  She sunk down to the floor covering her face with her hands, now in hysterics.  I put my arms out towards her, but when I touched her she started screaming and flailing.  I didn’t understand why she didn’t want to be near me.  I steadied myself and grabbed her arms to pull her off the floor and closer to me.  I held her there for a second.  Tears were streaming down her face and she wouldn’t look at me, but she was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I buried my nose in her hair and breathed in the floral essence of the products she used to style it.  I let my nose travel down til it was right behind her ear.  Her natural scent was mesmerizing.  Without thinking about what I was doing, I sunk my teeth into that beautiful, smooth neck.  She screamed and screamed, but I couldn’t stop myself from gnawing away at her lovely, brown skin.  She always tasted so good.

I’m going to Chicago!  It’s the first of many trips that I have planned out for the next year.  It’s a vacation that I have earned.  Getting out of LA for a few days will definitely be good for me.  There was a moment where I thought I couldn’t possibly go, but I decided to just throw caution out of the window and book the trip.  The best thing is…I have no plans!  I’m waiting to see what my native Chicagoan friends will suggest, so it’s going to be a bit of an adventure.  Future travel plans include: Miami in March for the Ultra Music Conference,  Detroit in June for the U.S. Social Forum, and Washington D.C. in August to see the Smithsonian.   I promised myself I’d travel more and it has become increasingly more important to me to keep that promise. 

 I’m working on a story right now.  I’ve been working on it.  I keep on going back and changing tense and what not.  It’s half way done, but I still want to keep posting stuff here just so that I don’t go months and months without a post again.  It’s another one of those silly promises I make to myself.

 One little busy project I enjoy every once in a while is the six word memoir.  I can sit down and write those all day long, and sometimes, if things are slow or I’m especially lazy, I do. 

 Your life.  Six words.  Do it!

 —————————————————————————————–

Nose in book.  Furball in lap.

Whiskey kisses in dimly lit rooms.

Took time to realize my worth.

Too many hobbies to be bored.

Cold, wet noses lifted me up.

Feminist book snob adores her tattoos.

The rich life held no appeal.

Always listened to my heart speak.

Spread my wings just in time.

Surrendered to literature.  Never looked back.

Daring myself to try everything once.

Nothing I wouldn’t do for love.

Bleeding heart here, reporting for duty.

I has lulz cuz of cheezburgers!

I forgot what I was saying.

No, really.  What was I saying?

Survived life with rose colored lenses.

I’ll be there in five minutes.

Everything serendiptously works out for good.

Works well with others.  Thrives alone.

The puppies were just groomed.  The groomers always put little bows in their hair.  Is it weird that I have the same hair fashion sense as my freshly groomed doggies?  It’s normal, right?  The bows generally suit Sophie because she’s so princess-y.  Ginger has a more difficult time pulling off the look.  It all boils down to personality.

 Me: Ginger…it’s time to give up Mr. Duck.  He’s seen better days.

Ginger:  But Grannyyyyyy, I’m not finished with my reign of terrorrrrr! *stomps*

Me:  He only has one appendage left on him.

Ginger:  One too many.

Me:  *squeezes Mr. Ducks tummy*  He doesn’t even talk anymore. 

Ginger:  Maybe he’s just a really good listener.

Me:  There’s a hole in his neck and hardly any stuffing left in his body.

Ginger:  Point?

Me:  *lifts trash can lid up*

Ginger:  omg, really?

Me:  *drops the remains inside*

Ginger:  REALLY?!?!?!

Me:  *closes lid*

Ginger:  Not cool, Granny.  Not cool.

In a sudden stroke

of long lost inspiration

I give you Haiku

 —————————————–

Tumble roll and growl

my sweet little cold nosed friends-

the smile catalysts

—————————————-

Ears perk at the chime-

My darling wakens me with

sweet sweet promises

 —————————————

 Stupid inner clock!

Out of synch and can’t catch up

to the normal folk