I had a dream last night we were taking a bath together.

Curious way to start an e-mail, he thought, especially from a casual acquaintance.  They had met at a writer's workshop in New York and wound up spending time together.  Nothing serious; drinks, dinner a few nights.  One night they had gone to The Bronx to see the Yankees.  The specter of no strings attached sex had floated around them during a particularly intense drinking session, where they had taken turns making up opening lines of stories.  She probably would have gone back to his room with him that night, if he had asked, but decorum and an old fashioned sense of propriety had made him escort her back to her room with nothing more than a good night kiss and some gentle grinding at her door.  The next morning they said their goodbyes  and promised to keep in touch, which they had with the occasional e-mail or comment on each other's writing.  He certainly had no reason to anticipate this type of message.  He studied it a moment, trying to decide how to respond.  He took a sip of coffee, the serene morning suddenly less tranquil.

Was it fun?

He went back to his writing, wondering how she would reply.  He tried to keep his mind on his work, but felt himself starting to tense up waiting for her to answer.  He jumped when the computer 'dinged' her response in his mailbox.

It was comfortable, like we were an old married couple and we'd been doing it for years.  You were smoking a cigar. :(

He chuckled.  The only thing she had complained about was his love of a good cigar.  It wasn't a problem out here on the prairie, but it had proved problematic in Manhattan.  He tried to stay down wind of her when they were out on the street, but that often conflicted with his need to be a gentleman and walk near the curb.  Thankfully, she was almost a foot shorter than him, so he was able to keep most of the smoke away from her face.  He smiled at the memory.

No body's perfect.  What happened next?

As soon as he hit SEND he thought maybe he'd pushed it too far.  Did he want to know what happened next?  She was a master at the art of erotic fiction, fearless in her ability to write about sex without blushing or flinching.  What if her dream had proceeded in a pornographic episode, or worse, a moment of mortifying embarrassment for his inability to perform?  He got up from his desk and called for his dog, thinking it was time to go for a walk.  He was just about to close the front door when he heard the computer 'ding' again.  He hesitated and looked longingly at his lap top.  He could always access his account via his phone.  His dog pulled at her leash, pleading with him to hurry up.  He closed the door behind him and let her lead him away from her answer.

It's A Girl

"Do you remember that Thanksgiving dinner when you left the turkey on the table and the dog jumped up and ran away with it?  And Scott just told us to get dressed and he took us to get a Chinese dinner?"

"Yes,  Mom, I remember."

"Scott was so handsome, he had so many girlfriends in high school.  I mean he was so popular, class president and head of the student council.  You were so lucky, Jenna to be married to a man like that."

"Yes,  Mom, I know."

"I miss him so much.  It's so unfair for a parent to have to bury her child.  At least I have you, to help me remember him.  It's almost like he's still here, a little bit.  Of course, a daughter-in-law isn't the same as a child, but you're a good girl to come visit me like this."

"I'm glad it makes you happy Mom.  It's getting late, I have to be going now."

"Will you come back tomorrow?  And bring Scott with you."

"Scott can't come, Mom, you know that."

The old woman's face went blank, as if she was trying to remember something, then sullen as the words sank in.  Jenna kissed her good bye, and started to walk out of her room.  The distinct smell of death and disinfectant wafted through the hallways of the assisted living facility.  Jenna heard the old woman call out after her, followed by sobbing.

"You got your girl.  I hope you're happy!"

Jenna let out a sigh and shook her head, doing her best to dislodge the accusation.  As she waited for the elevator another woman appeared next to her, offering a sympathetic smile.

"It's not easy, is it?"

"No, not easy at all."

"You're good to visit.  So many of the residents don't have any one.  I'm sure your mother-in-law appreciates it in her own way."

Jenna laughed.  She didn't think her mother did.  She fiddled with her purse.

"Were you married long?  It's so hard losing a spouse."

Jenna shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"My husband is still alive. That woman isn't my mother-in-law, she's my mother."

The other woman looked confused.

"I'm sorry, I thought she said you were her daughter-in-law."

Jenna started to shake her head back and forth.  What was the point of explaining all this to a to a total stranger?

"I'm my mother's first born.  She wanted a boy first, but her mother-in-law wanted a girl.  She gave my mother a beautiful pink layette set for Christmas, and my mother refused to take it home.  When I was born in February my grandmother went to visit my mother in the hospital, and when she peeked her head into my mother's room, my mother screamed, 'You got your girl, I hope you're happy' and then burst into tears."

The other woman was still trying to wrap her brain around such irrational thinking.

"But who's Scott?"

The elevator door slid open.  Jenna walked in and pressed the down button.

"Scott was supposed to be my name if I was a boy.  My mother thinks he's dead.  I finally bring her some joy because I remind her of someone who never existed."

The elevator door slid close.  The sound of sobs still echoed down the hallway.

Just A Cup Of Coffee

He reached for the phone, his eyes squinting to read the clock.  12:45. AM. He made a quick mental note of all the people who might call at this hour; his mom about his dad, his dad about his mom.  His brother about their parents.  He pulled the phone to his ear, prepared for the worst.

"Hi.  I'm sorry to call so late."

His eyes opened wide as he heard her voice.  She was the last person he expected to be on the other end. He sat up slightly, clearing his throat of sleep.

"No it's OK.  Are you all right?"

He heard her voice catch a little, which made him sit up even more.  She was a woman who wouldn't even let him buy her coffee at work in the morning.  She was always polite about it, saying she didn't like coffee, but it always made him feel annoyed.  It was just a cup of coffee.  Her rejection was habitual  And hurtful.

"Um, no.  I was coming back from work and I got hit by another car.  I'm sitting in the emergency room." 

He heard her struggle to maintain her composure and fail. He could tell she was distraught, heard her try to regulate her breathing.  He turned on the light and got out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the dresser, trying to balance the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled on socks and shoes.  He picked up his keys and was all ready out the door by the time she was able to speak again.

"I'm banged up a bit, nothing's broken, but my car is totaled, and I need a ride home, so I was wondering if you could come pick me up?"

He was behind the wheel of his car, putting his blue tooth into his ear and turning on the engine before she had finished her sentence.

"What hospital?"

"Princeton-Plainsboro.  It's on Route 1; they moved it, it's no longer in Princeton."

"I know where it is.  I'll be there in 20 minutes.  Are you going to be OK?"

Again her heard her voice catch as she took in a deep breath.  She sounded so young and vulnerable.

"Yea, I'll be fine.  Thank you, I really appreciate this."

He smiled.  It felt good be needed.  He turned the radio on as he pulled onto the street.

"Sit tight.  I'm on my way."
"Thanks.  I guess I owe you a cup of coffee."

The call ended.  He turned the radio up, and sang all the way to the hospital.

Easier

It was supposed to get easier as one got older.  I was a woman of the world. Confident. Experienced. Seductive.  A woman unable to produce anything more than a half strangled "hello" or "good morning" whenever I passed him in the hall.  A woman painfully aware of her flabby stomach, graying hair, the stench of unfulfilled dreams wafting around her like stale perfume.

 And yet, he always smiled at me and said "How are you" every morning, and on several occasions I caught him gazing at me, at ME, from across the room. So I will do my best to bid farewell to self doubt and insecurity.  To take a stand against those who indignantly state, "you've had your chance, you're too old for such a gift".  Because it may never get easier.   But if it were easier, it wouldn't be so highly prized.

A Step Up

It's complicated,

he said,

being married

to a woman

who refuses

to live with you.

He took a sip of whiskey

and stared into space

as I twirled the straw

in my drink.

I thought he was

interesting.

A co-worker

had set us up.

He'd been a clown

with the circus.

(No really, a graduate

of Clown College)

and now

he was

an actor.

Which,

I thought,

was definitely a

step up

from

abusive alcoholic.

At least,

alphabetically.

I saw him smile,

then turn his

gaze back

towards me,

as I let my

bare foot

brush against his

ankle.

A gentle,

tentative

invitation.

Enough to show interest

without arousing

immediate rejection.

I felt the embers of

desire

long dormant in my groin

begin to flicker.

Just slightly.

I smiled back

and waited for

the moment

to breach

the awkward reality

of

It's complicated.

Full Wolf Moon-Part Eleven

"The moon is full."

The little man scrunched his face in confusion.  He glanced up towards the skylight; the moon's soft glow drifted down like a soft snow.  He returned his attention to his work.  He needed to complete the task, needed to complete his army.  He shoved needles and tubes into Edwards  body, finally flipping a switch.  Edwards flaccid body stiffened, then joined his brethren in their twisted, contorted dance.

Glover glanced at Cassandra and motioned with his head to follow him.  He didn't know what the hell was going on, all he cared about was getting Pryor and getting the hell out of here.  The two of them made their way through the sea of corpses towards where Pryor lay; Glover studied the web of tubes and wires, then gave a quick look back to the little man's feverish ministrations.  Glover shouldered his weapon.

"Cover me.  If that crazy man moves towards us, shoot him."

Glover let his eyes drift over the room.

"Shoot any of them if they move towards us."

Cassandra nodded and kept watch as Glover began his work.  His agile hands disentangled his friend from their spidery web.  He bent over and put his ear to Pryor's chest and tried to listen for any signs of life, holding his arms over Pryor to stop his convulsing.  He strained to hear over the howling and groaning that enveloped the room.  He stood up and let go of Pryor's body; Pryor began to shake and writhe.  Cassandra looked back at them.

"What's wrong?"

Pryor shook his head, then reached down and opened Pryor's right eye. The pupil was fixed and dilated

"There's no heart beat.  He's not breathing.  Yet look at him, he can't keep still."

The two of them jumped and aimed their weapons as they heard the little man behind them, his voice raising like a phantoms.

"I told you, he's dead but not dead.  There's no heart beat, no respiration.  He's unable to die. Ever.  They all are.  Once I've reanimated them, they'll be unstoppable, an army that can't be beaten."

Glover still had his weapon trained on the little man when a scream from the depths of hell erupted behind them.  The old man jumped as they turned and stared at Pryor.  He was sitting up, his hand clawing at his skin, his eyes staring blankly in front of him as he howled in pain and agony.
Cassandra kicked the little man to get his attention.

"You said he was dead! Why is he howling like that?  Why does he sound . . ."  She stopped herself as she realized what she was about to say.  The old man finished her sentence as he hopped on the slab to examine Pryor.

"Like a wolf?  Because of the Lycan blood flowing through his veins, stupid girl.  It flows through all of them."

Pryor stopped his unholy growls and began to pant.  He seemed to struggle to catch his non existent breath, sweat dripping down his face and chest.  He slowly turned his head towards them, his dead eyes fixing a predatory stare on Glover and his weapon.  Glover inhaled as he felt his finger slide towards his trigger.  Pryor lunged forward towards them; Glover let a volley of bullets fly into his friend,  catching the old man in the back.  The old man screamed as his body twitched and jerked.  He slumped down onto Pryor's lap.  Pryor's chest was pock marked with bullet holes; he was still upright, his mouth open and twisting.  A low guttural sound emerged from his lips.

"Don't waste your ammunition, Glover.  The old man was right.  I can't be killed.  Again."

Full Wolf Moon-Part Ten

 Cassandra opened her eyes, then bolted upright, covered in hay.  Where was she?  It took her a minute to remember all that had happened;  the bar, giving the message to Pryor, returning to the camp, Nolan raping her, leaving with Glover.  Where was Glover?  She peered through a crack in the wall; a light snow covered the ground.  She checked her watch.  She'd been asleep for almost six hours.  How would she find Glover?  She checked her weapons and slid quietly out of the loft.  The sky was begining to darken, the streets were starting to empty.  She began to walk, not sure which
 way to go.  She took a moment to remember the way to the Limber Nymph, then began her search.

Cassandra wandered around, trying to get her bearings.  She started down one street but it turned into a dead end. It was still early; would the bar even be open at this hour?  She came to an alley that looked familiar and began to enter it,  then stopped as she realized it was another dead end.  She back tracked and returned to an open square.  Now which way?  She stood still and listened for a moment.  A howling sounded in the distance.  Wolves?  Here within the city limits?  How could that be?  She listened again; yes, it was definately a wolf pack.  Her curiosity got the better of her.  Glover could wait.

She followed the sound down dark, foreboding streets.  It was a strange howl, one filled with pain.  She began to move quicker, running blindly down streets.  The noise grew louder as she came upon an old building.  She ran towards it, then fell over something in the alley.  She cursed as she crashed into the pavement.  She started to get up, rubbing her elbow as she looked around to see what had tripped her up.  A man was leaning against the side of the alley, his face a carved mass of flesh.  She bent forward to get a better look, then cried out as she recognized him. It was Glover!

Cassandra knelt next to him, gazing at his cheek.  He had heated his knife in an attempt to cauterize the bleeding. The smell of burnt flesh still lingered in the air .  She reached into her sack to look for some sort of bandage.  She found her canteen and offered it to him.

"What happened?"

Glover took a swig of water and then spit it out.

"I followed a group of soldiers to that building at the end of the alley.  Someone didn't like me nosing around.  I told him I was looking for the Limber Nymph.  He decided to give me directions."

She looked at his left eye, the lid sunk deeply into the empty socket.  Was there any way to save it?  She made a quick sweep of the ground around them, looking for the missing orb.  Glover grimaced.

"Don't bother to look for it.  He tried to make a meal of it.  There's not much left of it. Or him."

Cassandra looked over to where Glover waved his hand; a dead rat with his head shot off  lay on the other side of the alley, Glover's eye still clenched between his teeth.  Cassandra swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.  She took a deep breath and was about to speak when the howling erupted again.  The two of them looked towards the building.

"What the hell is that?"

Glover struggled to his feet, slowly moving down the alley, Cassandra following close behind.  The noise grew louder; what ever was in there was in an enormous amount of pain.  The two of them stood at the end of the alley, gazing at the structure.  A strange glow emanated from a skylight, while the entire building seemed to be bathed in a strange light.  Glover looked up towards the sky at the moon.  Cassandra followed his gaze, her voice low and soft.

"They led me here.  It's how I found you. That's a full wolf moon. They howl because they're hungry."

Glover turned his eye back to the building.  What ever was inside wasn't happy.  He pulled his hood back over his head and started to walk forward when the door to the building flew open.  A wave of pain erupted onto the street; Glover and Cassandra melted back into the alley, seeping into the shadows.  Two figures appeared in silhouette against the bright light, one small and frightened, the other large and angry.  The larger of the two paced back and forth in frustration.

"You said he'd turn!  You said Pryor would be turned by now!"

Glover and Cassandra stiffened at the sound of their comrade's name and at the sound of the man's voice.  The man she'd stabbed, the man who'd carved up his face.  They held their breath as the man continued to vent his anger, the smaller man cowering before him.

"I said I wasn't sure.  I tripled the drip, I can't guarantee it will work."

Edwards turned and punched the wall.  The old man was a fraud, he'd been lying all along.  Edwards needed this to work.  His head was swimming from lack of sleep, he could feel his knees start to buckle.  He dropped to the ground, trying to stay awake.  The little man moved quickly; he pulled out a syringe and plunged it into Edwards' shoulder.  Edwards howled and tried to grab his attacker.  The man jumped nimbly out of reach and waited; moments later Edwards collapsed on the ground, unconscious.  The little man approached in a servile manner, then boldly kicked Edwards in the ribs.

"Stupid man.  I should leave you here in the street.  But that will attract too much attention. Where are those stupid soldiers when you need them?"

The little man looked up and down the deserted street.  Glover grabbed Cassandra's arm and pulled her towards the building.  He motioned for her to shoulder her weapon as he concealed his inside his hoodie.  He held up both hands as he approached.

"Need some help, friend?"

The little man jumped at the sound of the voice, afraid one of Edwards' men had discovered what he'd done.  He peered at the two figures; they weren't soldiers.  There was no way he'd be able to pull Edwards' cumbersome body back inside by himself.  He'd use these two for his own use and then dispatch them quickly.  He motioned towards Glover and Cassandra, a sick, morbid smile appearing on his face.

"Yes, yes, come help.  My friend is ill, he needs to rest.  Help me bring him inside."

Glover moved towards the prone body, vengence rising like bile in his mouth. Cassandra held back;   the smell of death wafted out the door. Glover glanced back and motioned for her to take his legs.  She bent down and grabbed his ankles as Glover and the little man lifted his arms over the threshold.  The three of them dragged the body inside;  Cassandra dropped her end as she saw the rampage of bodies, writhing and convulsing on their slabs, muscles straining against restriants.  Glover and the little man managed to place Edwards' body on a slab.  Glover stepped back and began to scan the room, doing his best to recognize Pryor.  Towards the back of the room he stoppped; Pryor was hooked up to some sort of machine, his body contorting in pain.  He turned back to the little man, who had begun to attach wires and tubes to Edwards' body, a manical look twisting his face.  He was muttering to himself.

"Now who's the big man?  Now who's the alpha male?"

Glover moved back towards Cassandra and drew his weapon.  How to get to Pryor?  The man looked up and smirked at him.

"You think you can stop me?  Think you can keep me from victory?  Pryor said he'd lead my army."

Glover held his aim.

"Pryor needs to come with us, friend.  He has unfinished business to attend to.  Unhook him and let us leave."

The little man smirked at Glover.

"What business can a dead man attend to?"

The two of them stared at him.  Cassandra looked over towards Pryor's body, his body still straining against his restraints.

"How can he be dead when he's moving?"

The little man spat contemptously at Cassandra as he continuned to work on Edwards' body.

"Stupid girl!  He's dead but not dead.  He'll be reanimated when the moon is full.  They all will."