The Party

The streaming sun shocks me awake. The bed is empty and cold. I run my hand over where he had been and my heart aches. My whole body aches as I try to get up. Why do I sleep so hard when I’m with him? His warmth is some magical sleep elixir it’s the only reasonable explanation. I drag myself to the shower and let the warm water pour over me. Nothing will ever be as good as his warmth though.

I put my head to the shower wall. I want to be the kind of person who can dive in and thrive. But no matter how easy I try to make it look, I will always be struggling. People scare me. Life scares me. That’s different here for some reason. This house makes me different. He makes me different. It’s easier to pretend for him.

Katie comes in with breakfast as I’m getting dressed. I consider hiding in the closet just to avoid having to do more work. But better judgment wins out in the end. If I don’t come out she might make me reorder the closet too.

“Are you excited for tonight, Miss Julie?”

I poke my head out of the closet. “What’s tonight?”

“The party, Miss!” she says throwing her hands in the air.

In all the preparations I’ve lost track of the day. I barely have my shirt on before I’m out the door. There’s no time, with so much left to do. I run down to the kitchen and cook is already furiously baking. I don’t even have to ask, she just puts me right to work. We cut puffs, whip dips, and bake, bake, bake! I don’t think I’ve ever cooked so much in my life.

I get pulled up stairs to review flower arrangements. The house is beautiful. Big arrangements of roses are on every table. The rooms were themed in different colors. The ballroom is purple and green and brilliant with little drips of gold. The grand hall is blue with silver garlands. The dining room is read with gold ribbons. It goes on and on, every room more spectacular than the last. It’s hard not to cry.

As the day starts to wane I’m still furiously trying to finish every detail. I’m still piping on to little cakes when Thomas slips into the kitchen. I nearly trip over him standing in the corner.

“Thomas,” I look at him dressed in a tuxedo and looking sharp, “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you,” he laughs, “You are planning to actually come to the party?”

I hand off the tray of cakes I’ve finished. Wiping my hand across my forehead I turn back around.

“What do you mean?”

“If you don’t head up now you’re never going to be ready in time.”

He holds out his wrist for me to read his watch. Oh my God, it’s a quarter to six. I can’t focus for a moment, I’m too busy turning in a panicked circle. I would probably still be spinning if Thomas didn’t gently, but firmly point me towards the stairs.

“Katie is upstairs to help you get ready,” he says clapping the flour off his hands.

I take the steps two at a time coming out in the middle of the hall and Katie waves her hands at me from the Her Ladyship's quarters. I nearly crash into her as I slide down the hall. She helps me strip and physically pushes me into the shower. When I step out several chambermaids that are already made up are circling with make-up brushes and combs and all matter of torture devices. They place me in my towel in front of the mirror and go to work. My protesting is drowned out by the blow dryer and my shouts of pain are ignored as they pull my hair and poke my eye with the mascara brush. I’m on the edge of tears when I’m herded into the closet. Katie is standing there with a long royal purple dress. It is strapless with beautifully embroidered panels down the front. I gently touch it with my freshly manicured fingers. It’s too nice. It’s too beautiful. She helps me slide into the silken gown. I look at myself in the full length mirror and I don’t look like me anymore. I’ve become a princess. I’m a beautiful opera singer about to perform an aria. I can’t even recognize this person in the mirror.

Katie pulls me around and she is smiling. She holds out a pair of long white gloves with embroidery that matches the dress. She helps me to pull them on and it suddenly feels complete. This was all that was missing even though I hadn’t realized it. Katie looks to be on the verge of tears.

“Miss, you’re beautiful.”

“If I am, it’s your fault,” I tell her as I pull her into a hug. It takes all my concentration to not ruin my makeup. I can’t thank her enough.

She steps away to pull out a pair of silken shoes. I present my feet one at a time and she slides on the beautiful slippers. I wonder if this means I only have until midnight?

Katie walks me out to the hall and the chambermaids have already dispersed to their jobs for the evening. It’s already past seven, so the party will already be starting. She leaves me at the galley door and I have to make it to the grand stair on my own. I feel like I should be self conscious, worried, embarrassed somehow, but I feel like I’m floating. I glide to the stairs and the hall is already greeting guests below. Thomas is speaking to a graying gentleman near the door. The conversations stop as I come down the stairs. Everything seems very quiet. Thomas turns around and I meet his eyes. His mouth hangs open. I can’t help but smile. Try and play that off you rat bastard.

He is quick to make his way to the bottom of the stairs, his conversation completely forgotten. I take the hand he offers to me and I can’t help but feel a little superior.

He kisses the back of my hand, “You look like an angel.”

He is so sincere that quickly I grow self conscious. I turn away. If he was vulgar like he usually is then it would be easy to remain smug, but he seems so genuinely kind. He isn’t as abrasive as he was before. The audience has changed him and he has bloomed into a new, less reprehensible man. And I want so badly to believe this is really him.

He pulls my arm through his and he walks me through the hall. He introduces me to all of Wolfe’s guests, most of them older gentlemen with silver hair, some with women much younger than myself on their arms. Some are there with wives, older more proper women. Some are worldly women with sly smiles. Thomas talks to everyone as an equal. I’m the one that’s out of place in the talk of the Riviera in the spring, Barcelona in the autumn and New York for the New Year. The most exotic place I’ve been is Omaha. Thomas, though, he speaks their rich and lavish language. He can hold his own with the old money like he was born to it. That’s probably why Wolfe uses him, these are his people. Blue bloods with too much money are his breed. It what makes him so unbearable, he feels entitled like his wealth makes him untouchable. It makes him an ass.

It feels like we’ve talked for hours with everyone in the house. I can’t believe how many people Wolfe works with without knowing even one of them. Thomas must be a fantastic representative to get this many people to put their trust in a man they’ve never seen. Thomas pulls me to the main ballroom and the investors follow. I feel a swell of pride at the ooohs and ahhhs that I hear as we enter the purple and green room. Cornices cascade with arrangements of Dickey’s finest roses. Everything seems covered in fine dewdrops of glittering gold. The table is dressed in a fine feast and giant candelabras shine brilliantly. The tuxedoed footmen disperse through the room with crystal champagne flutes on gleaming silver trays. Thomas takes two glasses and offers me one. The golden liquid is startlingly effervescent. The last time I had champagne was at a cousin’s wedding, and the glass had been cheap plastic. It had been terrible, possibly the worst thing I had ever tasted. Thomas taps his fine crystal glass with a small silver spoon from the buffet spread.

After the room quiets he begins, “Friends, colleagues, honored guests, thank you for joining me tonight in my home. It has been too long that I have been working with your fortunes unseen. I want to put you all at ease and let you know that your fees are in fact going to good use.” A laugh rises from the crowd as he holds his hands up to the ballroom. “I want to take this opportunity to thank you for your continued trust in me. I know that you could invest with anyone, and it is my honor that you choose to continue our partnership is these often difficult times. So, I thank you all. Here’s to another superior year of partnership.”

Everyone claps as he raises his glass to them. I look at all the happy faces. They believe in him unflinchingly. He steps out into the crowd and shakes hands with his people. A chamber orchestra starts to play an unobtrusive music and people begin to circulate through the food. I let Thomas do his glad handing while I slip through some of the other rooms with the guests. Footmen stand ready in every room happy to provide assistance and drinks where ever they are. There are small trios and quarters in nearly every room. Katie is discussing a large hanging painting in the library with one of the worldly women investors. Dickey, dressed in a fine tuxedo, is discussing horticulture with a man in study where a duet of strings plays. Both men are holding brandy glasses. For a man of such advanced years Dickey is incredibly suave, a real Hugh Heffner type. A pianist is in the music room entertaining a small group of investors as they nosh on some of the puffs we finished this morning. Ronald is running from the hall to the dining room in the most dignified way possible. The cowboys are dressed in their best finery with shining silver bolo ties and beautifully detailed boots. Steven is talking shop with an older gentleman. Their discussion seems rather passionate as Steve describes his horses’ fine blood lines.

As I pass through the library I see a fiery young woman sitting in one of the wing backed chairs. Glinda the Witch is flipping through a book like she owns the place. I walk up to her but she doesn’t look up. It takes all I have to not knock the book out of her hands like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If I did she’d probably turn me into a frog.

“Lovely party,” she says before liking her thumb and then turning a page.

“I doubt you were invited,” I hiss; The nerve of some powerful witches.

She lets the book fall against her lap, “I happen to have a standing invitation from Wolfe’s father to any function in this house.”

She picks up a champagne glass and takes a long sip. She’s wearing a green long sleeved gown and it sets her hair a blaze in a jolt of red. Her eyes are cold, but her lips turn up in an amused smile.

“You we close to Wolfe’s father weren’t you?”

Her smile breaks for only a split second. She probably hopes that I didn’t notice, but now her eyes seem to be screaming. She sets her glass aside and grasps her knee between her interlaced fingers.

“He was my lover,” she said coyly, “but we had a falling out.”

I sit in the near lounge chair. And she laughs as she turns away from me.

“Is it story time then?”

I slide the chair a little closer.

She looks at me with an eyebrow arched, before sighing. “Alright. Many years ago, long before Wolfe was born, I met his father. He was young and vital, a real beast. I rather liked him, and for a long time I thought he rather liked me. Then he decided I wasn’t good enough for him, for all this.” She waved a dainty hand at all the glitz of the room. “I wasn’t good enough for his legacy. What I had given him wasn’t good enough. So he left me. He married Wolfe’s mother. He had a son.”

“A man’s son is his legacy,” it was something someone had said at my brother’s funeral before I went to stay with my grandfather. A daughter can’t replace a son. A son carries a name. A father can teach his son all the secrets of manhood. What crueler punishment is there than stealing a man’s legacy?

“Very good, little Dorothy.” She slapped the book against a little side table. She downed the last of her champagne in a single long pull.

“You’d punish someone who didn’t do anything to you, to get back at his father?”

“If I had thought his father would be as callous and unrepentant as he is I might have found another way. You know he lets his poor wife believe this is somehow her fault? The man is a monster, and not just in the obvious ways. He brought my wrath down on my sweet pup, he dictated the form of his sons torment, and he is the one who remains unmoved, not I.”

Glinda stands and I struggle to stand with her. She is wicked fast. I feel like if I blink she could simply disappear, and really for all I know, she could.

“All I can hope is that this prolonged punishment helps to keep Wolfe from becoming like his no good, bastard of a father. Though, I don’t count on it. He makes the same mistakes even now. He thinks a fine face and fat purse puts the world at his feet. Look at this excess,” she twirls around looking at the magnificence. I look too, and realize how out of character it seems for Wolfe. Wolfe who has lived in five rooms locked away from the world his entire life. This is the sort of party someone would choose from excessive descriptions of what a party should be.

“Money doesn’t buy happiness, and a fair face is only worth as much as the character behind it, Ms. Kansas City,” she says as she disappears out through the library doors.

I trail behind but as soon as she turns out the door she disappears. I look all around the hall, but like a ghostly apparition, she has dematerialized. I wander into the dining room trying to see if I can spot her amongst the silver haired old men. The footmen hustle past with trays filled with more puffs and glasses of wine. I pass Marco chatting a woman up. After circuiting the room, I can find a trace of the less than good witch. My shoulders slump as I resign myself.  You can’t expect to beat magic and crazy.

A silver haired man beckons me over to him near the hors d'oeuvres table. I join him as he picks through a few plates.

“You are good friend with Mr. Wolfe, I hear,” he says placing a few more puffs on his plate.

I nod and he goes on, “I’m so happy for him, I was worried he was wasting all him time on his investments. I’ve been investing with Wolfe for nearly eight years, and he’s made me a lot of money, bless his heart, but there’s more to life than making money.”

He points a pickle spear to the lovely young woman across the room, being regaled by whatever stories Marco can imagine on short notice. She shoots the silver fox a sly smile as she discreetly rolls her eyes.

“Without someone to share it with, money is just paper. He’s too nice a young man to be married to his job. Promise me that you’ll convince him to finally accept my offer and come out on my yacht?”

I laugh, “I’ll do my best, but I don’t know that he likes to travel much.”

“I realize that this house has all he need, especially with you here, but there are great things out in the world.” He points towards the ballroom, “He’s a fine young man, and I expect to see him out on the water come spring.”

He thinks Thomas is Wolfe. He thinks this is Thomas’ house. He thinks I’m in love with Thomas. I steady myself on the table and bite back the anger that just turned my stomach.

“I’ll do my best, Sir.”

I dismiss myself and head back towards the ballroom ready to start a fight when Marco rushes to me and pulls me onwards. His bolo is a curled silver snake, and he even had on snake skin boots. He takes me to the open dance floor and we start the waltz. After we start several more people join in. Soon the whole floor is alive with twirling bodies. Marco asks if I think he has a chance with the young woman in the dining room and I can’t help but laugh. Thomas cuts in after the first and shoos Marco away. Thomas is a marvelous dancer, almost as good as Wolfe.

“So Mr. Wolfe,” I nearly spit, “How successful do you find your party so far?”

He looks sheepishly at me, “I do apologize. A little subterfuge is required to keep the whole system running. But do you really think these people would be as accommodating if I looked like a movie monster?”

He spins me under his arm and out and I look around at the older people around me. They are traditional people, looking for the comfort of a familiar face. The rich, smooth, young tycoon is what they expect. He spins me back and keeps me pressed very close to him so he can speak right into my ear.

“I don’t like this arrangement either, but Wolfe needs to be present at his own party, and I’m the best he has. I’m the face they know and trust. That’s the way it’s been from the beginning. Wolfe and I are two sides of the same coin, you might say. One of us is the brains, the other the beauty, that is until you came. Now the only beauty here is you.”

He turns with me again before the piece ends. He lets me slip away as his investors crowd around him. The party is raging in the ballroom. Thomas walks through his admirers effortlessly. He shines as the center of attention. As Mr. Wolfe’s public face he represents splendidly. Conversation comes easily to him and he thrives under the scrutiny of others. If Wolfe were an ordinary man, as much as it pains me, I would want him to be a man like Thomas.

Thomas steps back and claps his hands to get the attention of the room. Everyone crowds in to hear another announcement. They all look so excited; I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Tonight my dear friends and honored guest I have a very special treat for you,” he smiles, “I have the privilege of introducing to you a very special young woman of my acquaintance. Ms. Julie, would you please join me?”

He waves his hand towards me. I worry that my mouth might still be hanging open when everyone turns to face me. A tight smile snaps onto my face. The show must go on. I consider bolting, but give up on that when everyone starts to clap. I try not to let the strain show in my walk as I meet Thomas at the heart of the crowd. He smiles at me and I Grip hold of his hand a little tighter than is necessary. I have to give it to him, he doesn’t even flinch and I was giving him a death squeeze.

“It has been the greatest fortune of my life to have met this beautiful young woman,” he says to the crowd, “She is a splendidly talented individual and tonight I would like to introduce her to the world with a premier performance.”

I squeeze his hand even tighter as everyone begins to clap. He steps into me, but I don’t let go of his hand.

“I haven’t prepared anything,” I hiss into his ear.

He smiles a maddening smile as his cheek brushes against mine, “I thought you could play anything on anything.”

I eye him suspiciously as he backs away towards the piano. I smile at the excited faces as I take my seat at the piano in the corner. Thomas leaned over my shoulder and barely breathed into my ear, “Good luck.”

I try not to let my annoyance show on my face as I consider the keys. I lightly touch them trying to think of any music through the blank white sheet that has gone up in my mind. The room seems so quiet now. If I don’t start playing something it will be awkward. Even now people are fidgeting, I can hear them shuffling. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I place my hands and on the keys and press down. It’s a cord. Oh my God I did it. I open my eyes and my fingers pick out Clair de Lune. I can’t help but smile at my hands as they dance slowly along the piano. While the music wraps around me everyone else falls away. All that’s left is me and the instrument in a world of harmonious sound. This is what it was like when I was young and I would sit and watch my mother play. The joy on her face was enough to make me happy. This is what being truly invested in something feels like. Wolfe should be here. I nearly stumble thinking about Wolfe, but I’m near the end. I breathe and let my hands fall the rest of the way through the piece. As I come to the end I look up and Thomas is watching me with a look I can’t quiet place on his face.

I scoot away from the piano and take a small bow as everyone applauds. Thomas took my hand and kissed right between my knuckles. He pulls me in close and whispers into my ear, “That was magnificent. You are magnificent.”

He smiles down at me and my legs start to feel weak. His hand slides across my back and he walks me through the crowd of investors who are still applauding. Everyone wants to shake my hand and congratulate me. After a moment I am separated from Thomas as I’m passed from one adulting guest to another. I look for him, but all I can see are old faces. The room starts to feel a little too small. I push my way out of the crowd and try to catch my breath. When I look back into the whirling, enthused crowd I can finally see Thomas and all the tension I didn’t realize I have relaxes. I take up a position in the corner of the room watching the glorious spectacle. It’s starting to get late, but everyone seems too lost in the splendor of the evening to notice. Peering over from his conversation with several important looking executives Thomas meets my eye. I hadn’t meant to be staring. He dismisses himself and cuts through the crowd to meet me.

“I think I’m going to head up and give Wolfe an update, would you join me?” he says setting down his brandy glass.

“Of course,” I answer. He takes my hand and wraps it around his arm as he leads me out of the room.

The hall is alive with activity as footmen come through with wine and hors d'oeuvres. We walk up the stair to the clatter of dishes and the loud rapping of feet. He takes my hand up the first stair. I struggle with my gown skirting trying not to trip. The dress is really only good going down the stairs and flat surfaces, up is really not its forte.

At the top of the stair he stops. I look at him confused. That is when he grabs my wrist. He pushes me to the wall, hard. I’m too shocked to scream at first. He leans into my body and I realize how very strong he is compared to me. My right hand is pinned to the wall and my left is uselessly trying pushing him away. My blood runs cold when I realize he is kissing my neck.

“Stop,” I whisper, conscious of Wolfe’s presence very near above.

He meets my eyes, his face very close to mine. “You’ve been driving me crazy all night. You think I haven’t noticed your glances, seen how you dress for me? Julie come to me, be mine. Let me give you what the wolf can’t.”

I feel sick, “Let me go! If I scream someone will come.”

“What don’t I have? What can I possibly lack that would make you choose him over me, Julie? I have money, Julie, so much money. I can give you all that he has and more. I will treat you like a queen. You will never want.”

Frantic and angry I hit him as best I can. My wrist aches against his grip. I try to push free with all my strength, but he is so much stronger than he looks. He’s like a mountain, unmovable.

 “You really want to know what he has that you don’t,” I shout, “He’s kind, he listens, he makes beautiful things, he cares about people. But you, you are pompous, self-centered, cruel, vane, and you’re hurting me.”

He releases me very suddenly. I fall against the wall as he takes a step back. His eyes are panicked. His hand hovers in the air. He seems so confused like he’s really seeing me for the first time. He takes a step towards me but shoots back when I flinch away from him. Walking unsteadily backwards down the hall he holds his hands in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Ms.  Julie, I’m so sorry.”

I hold my wrist into my chest as he disappears up the stairs. Katie comes up the lower stairs as I slide to the floor. She wraps her arms around me, asking me what’s wrong but I can’t speak. She helps me back down to my room. Dabbing at my eyes and touching up my hair, she keeps asking what’s wrong. I can’t speak, but my wrist aches. I slip off my long silk glove to reveal the purple and blue of a fresh bruise. She gasps and runs to get some ice. The fingers are easily distinguishable in the color. All I can think is how mad Wolfe will be if he sees. He might kill Thomas.

Katie returns with a bag of ice and some water. She begs me to tell her what happened. I can’t. I don’t want her to tell Wolfe. If someone is going to tell him it’s going to be me. I won’t have the story colored with other people's’ bias. I drink the water quickly and pull the glove back on. There were still people to impress. I still have a job to do. Taking several deep breaths I push back the tears. It’s going to be alright, everything is fine. Nothing's wrong, nothing's wrong. Everything is wrong.

I rejoin the party as though nothing had happened. I watch the stairs, the doors, the dark corners. I am terrified that Thomas will come back down, but he doesn’t. Then I am terrified that he won’t come back down. I am left to bid all the guests a good night alone. I hide my winces of pain behind a smile when I shake their hands. The silver fox winks at me as he gets in with his young consort. She blows a kiss from the Porsche window as they pull away. The cars pull around one by one and drive off into the night. And the house is empty again. I am downstairs until well into the early hours of the morning. I can’t go back up stairs.

Katie, perhaps sensing my reticence takes me to her room instead. She brings clothes from my room and I change. The bruise on my wrist is so sore. Katie fetches more ice while I lie in bed. When she finishes dressing she gets into bed between me and the door. I am too terrified to sleep at first but Katie’s slow rhythmic breaths and my own exhaustion win out in the end and I close my eyes.

The Manifest

The manifest read, ‘30 BOXES EXPERIMENTAL EARTH.’

Janis lowered the clipboard and looked at the container. She looks back at the clipboard reads it again, lowers it again. This is a story she’s read before. With a whap she smacks Arnold with the manifest.

“Sure as shit that container has a vampire in it,” she says walking back towards the office.

Arnold was quick to follow behind. He wasn’t a terribly bright man, but he was a damn good shipyard foreman. She always felt blessed to have him working with her. She took the stairs back up to the office two at a time and Arnold stumbled up after her.

“How do you know there’s a vampire in there?” Arnold asks as he flops into one of the office chairs.

Janis pulled two of the blinds apart to look out at the container. It’s just one container, the only container the ship left for the New York port. The rest of the shipment went on through to the Canal. She pulled a lollipop out her pocket and unwrapped it. If that in conjunction with the odd contents didn’t scream creepy vampire container, she didn’t know what did.

“I’m psychic, Arnold. I can see the vampire inside.”

“Really?” he leaned forward, suddenly very interested.

“Naw, I’m just bull shitting. It just reminds me a of a book I’ve read.”

Arnold slumped back into his chair clearly disappointed. Still, it all seems a little too familiar. She goes and makes a scan of the manifest, making sure to capture port of origin and listed owner. Pulling out an envelope she folds up the paper. She labels the envelop “For Vampire Hunters” and shows it to Arnold.

“Just in case I’m putting it this in my drawer.”

She plops the envelop in her drawer of the shared desk. She pulls out a bag of shelled sunflower seeds and tosses them to Arnold. He pours out a handful and hands it back to her.

“If you think there’s a monster in the container shouldn’t we do something about it?”

Janis pulls over her coffee thermos. A responsible person would report any real concerns with cargo. This isn’t a shady establishment. There aren’t drug containers passing through her charge, at least not on her midnight to 8am shift. She’s only a night manager, she can’t be expected to maintain the morality of the other 16 hours of the day. It’s all fantastical nonsense, but still the container has the smacking of something odd.

“Arnold, I am a shipper not a vampire hunter. Unless a vampire jumps out of that container and tries to steal it, there’s nothing I can do.”

She takes a long drink from the thermos. Arnold seems deflated, but she’s not going to make a fool of herself over this silliness.

“If someone comes looking for information about the container, then you have my permission to give them the envelop with the manifest information. It’s not our job in the story to stop the monster, just to facilitate its capture.”

He seemed less than enthusiastic with that explanation, but satisfied. Janis pours some seeds into her mouth, straight from the bag. She turns back to the blinds and pulls down to look back out at the container. This little joke was going to bite her in the ass.

Demon's in Love

               

                Carl Ronove sat watching the clock slowly ticking. He had always found time such a novel concept. The thought of measuring life’s progression in small regular intervals was bazaar at the very least. He glanced briefly at the secretary as she typed away at her key board. The clock continued to move through its paces. He had never been very good at waiting, which is why the passage of time never occurred to him. Carl was always moving. His philosophy was that it was harder to hit a moving target, so being still made him uncomfortable. He looked over to the office door. He wondered what sort of appointment was going on beyond.

                The secretary looked up from her furious typing, “Mr. Abigar will see you now.”

                Carl stepped into the office to find Abigar sitting behind a large desk. Carl slept on a bed smaller then that desk. The man looked up from a stack of papers that sat before him. A smile spread across the old weary face. “Carl, how good to see you.”

                “Mathew,” replied Carl offering his hand, “It is always a pleasure.”

                The old man took firm grasp of his hand. “I feel this is not just a visit for a friendly chat,” he waved to a seat across the desk from his own.

                “You’re right my old friend.”

                They both took their seats and waited for the other to implore further. It was Carl who broke first.

                “I need your advice.”

                “That is my specialty,” the old man laughed, “Ask what you will.”

                “Mathew, I have met a girl…”

                The old man held up a hand to silence his young friend, “It never works my dear boy. We are not like them.”

                “She is more than a normal girl. She consumes my thoughts. She clouds my vision. I am completely enthralled by her.”

                “Carl, you are a demon.”

                “I know, I know…”

                “You steal human souls for a living, you are the damned Carl, the best thing that you can do for this girl is leave her the hell alone.”

                “I can’t simply forget her. Why should I?” Carl nearly roared as he flew from his chair, “I just want what all of them have, the white picket fence, a beautiful wife, two point five kids. Is it so much to ask for… a little happiness?”

                “This is not a pleasure cruise. We are here for our eternal punishment.”

                “I fought beside you in the war. My sword clashed as many times as yours, believe me I do not forget. But can I not ask for a brief reprieve, a single lifetime of happiness out of an eternity of misery.”

                The old man shook his head slightly. The young were so hard to argue with, they just wouldn’t see reason. He looked up at his friend and could see a hopeless case.

                “So when were you planning on asking her?”

                Carl fell back into the chair. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled forth a small velvet box. He carefully set it on the desk in front of him.

                “Today,” he said as the two of them stared intently at the little box, “After I saw you.”

                “Then my advice obviously mattered very little to you.”

                “I’ll need a best man, I believe that is the custom.” 

Gifts

                I looked in the box, and there sitting in wrapped perfection was a tiny parcel, right on schedule. I had no idea where it had come from because much like its predecessors it had no return address, but I knew with certainty that it would be something wonderful, and intriguing. I carried the tiny box, no more than ten centimeters cubed, up to my room. Since I had started school I had received three packages, all of which came from my parents. That is until my nineteenth birthday upon which I withdrew from my postal box in the lobby a package containing the first of many oddities I was to receive. The packages had come at a rate of one a month always on the anniversary of my birthday for a semester and a half. My collection of strange things had escalated at an alarming rate.

 Now I sat on my bed with the tiny box nestled carefully in my hands. What wonders would this little package hold? Surely it was nothing as strange as the jar with the preserved salamander. I looked over at the bazaar gift where it sat on the desk. Though the sad little creature disturbed me, I hadn’t the heart to discard it. Nor could I have thrown out any of the other novelties that I had received. I balanced the small parcel before me between the tips of my fingers. It was a rather weighty little box for its size, and though I was wary of its contents curiosity won out over caution in the end and I tore into it quite heartily.

There settled on a soft bed of cotton was a perfect glass orb. I carefully raised the precious sphere from its nest, and held it fast between my fingers. It was of amazing quality. I looked through it and was unhindered in the morphed view of the other side. It was as though the form had been cut and shaped rather than poured. I held the glass up to my eye and surveyed the room. The surroundings looked minuscule through the looking glass.

 I let the glass sit upon my fingers as though they were a pedestal and I gazed into the depths of the glass. That was when the light began to shift. It startled me at first, but than once more the curiosity grew, and I looked yet deeper into the mysterious glass. What at first was a shimmer of color quickly became a moving figure and I feared that I might come all the way through the glass and out the other side in some strange new place. I could hear noises so loud that I thought I might go deaf, and I saw colors so bright that I was sure I would go blind. I wasn’t in my room, I was rather uncertain of whether I was even in Kansas anymore. The raging motion and shift and noise were enough to scare the little glass out of my hand. As the sphere tumble out of my grasp so too did I tumbled out of the nightmare of oppressive sensation. I panicked that the glass might shatter, but as I came to my senses I found the orb sitting innocently upon the bed spread completely unharmed.

I could do little but stare at the incredible object for a long time. What had just happened? What had I seen? Would it happen again if I took hold of the sphere once more? Did I really want to know? I settled on the fact that I didn’t for the time being and so covered the glass with a towel. I carefully lifted the weighty object to my desk and placed it into the first drawer. I decided I had to tell someone, lest the happening be lost to the doubts of imagination. So calmly I walked across the hall and knocked on my neighbor’s door. Sluggishly the door opened a crack. A series of grunts told a tale of woe about having to get out of bed at the ungodly hour of four thirty in the afternoon. 

Bad, and Worse

             

             There are, of course a lot of things wrong with being hung upside down by your ankles. Not the least of which is the reason you are hanging by your ankles. I could tell a story about how I’m innocent and being punished unjustly, but that is an even more egregious lie than that which got me in this situation. Really I can’t complain about my terrible circumstance, but I will anyway. I should start from the start though so that you can fully understand my position, that being of course no position at all.

                There was really nothing big about my life on the road to ankle hanging torture. I was born in an unimpressive manor to wonderfully loving parents. They made a modest living which became even more modest after having a child. They raised me the best they could, they provided a most adequate education, and all the love and caring that any child deserves. I was taught to read and write only as well as my parents could manage, and I learned all the feminine arts, as well as many of the manly manors that my father was more than willing to impart. My father had wanted a son, but had instead been blessed with me, his one and only daughter. But I readily learned even the simplest skills that my parents wished to pass to me. Quickly I surpassed them in every field including their own. My father commented that whoever took me for a wife would be leaving them in quite a lurch. Luckily for them that never really became a problem. I went to market with my father when he sold his crop, but none of the men ever approached me. It became clear that no one wished to take so harsh a creature as I for a bride. I did not fret, though, because my father merely took it as a sign that none were good enough for me. He was kind that way.

                Though my parents loved and cherished me, their precious daughter, they could not fight the tradition of marriage. So when my prospects in my little village wore too thin for comfort my father arranged for me to travel to the city, where my chances would be far better. Seeing as I was quick enough with a knife to be dangerous, he sent me alone to make my way in the world.

                The day I set off on the road to the city was the last day I saw my parents. They sent me with what would be my dowry should I find a husband so there was no reason I should return. I walked on the busy route watching carts roar past without pause. It was only the kindness of a near sited farmer taking his wagon of goods to market that got me there in any time at all. After helping the man unload his cart I started on my exploration of the city. I had heard a great many stories about these streets, but I had never considered that one day I would be walking on them. I took alley after alley, and explored market after market until nightfall. Not wanting to waste any of my dowry on lodgings and the night being rather fair, I found a nice stoop and promptly fell asleep. 

Balancing Act

                They looked down at the pool. It seemed serene like calm water, but they all knew better. There was a thin wire that spanned the distance to the amulet. It was too low to hang beneath without breaching the surface of the pool, but it was also too thin to walk across. Liza looked down at the wire. She could see she own shadowy figure reflected on the surface of the still water. A chill ran down her spine as she realized she couldn't see her face in the reflection.

                “Well… now what?”

                Everyone stood looking to the other side longingly. Liza ran her thumb over where her fourth finger used to reside. She had times when she could still feel it there, aching. She had once been a rather impressive trapeze artist, though that seemed like a whole other life.

                “I can make it,” she said, her voice cutting through the collective silence.

                Matthew took hold of her arms and turned her to face him. He looked deep into her eyes and asked, “Are you sure?”

                He was expecting her to back down, but she knew she could do this. She had spanned lengths twice as long in her high wire days. She grabbed hold of the staff in his other hand and walked to the start of the wire. Everyone seemed to rebel at once. They all took a step forward in an attempt to halt her, but it was too late as her foot pressed against the wire. She took one tentative step off the solid ground and stood with nothing between her and a horrifyingly uncertain fate except a thin line. She held the staff vertically before her as she took several deep breaths. It was just like riding a bike. She took several more steps quickly and began to wavier. She could hear the collective gasp as she swing dangerously to one side. The carefully positioned the staff to the other side to balance herself. Quickly her swerving ceased as she took the last few steps to the adjacent ground.

                She turned back to see the anxious faces of her companions on the far side and she waved back at them.

Dangerous Waters

Pirates. She had the most terrible luck with pirates. One might think that she would simply stop going to sea, but there always seemed a necessity to cross the great water. And that’s where they lay in wait out there in the ebbing tundra. Hundreds of ships could cross the Atlantic everyday without incident and it would always be her ship that incurred the wrath of the pirate horde. She cursed her poor fortunes under her breath as a cutlass was flourished at her face. Her hands moved so fast that even she had trouble seeing their path. She ended up with cutlass and buckaneer in hand. With unmatched speed and dexterity she marched her captive about the deck as a living shield cutting a path through the scallywags as she went. It wasn't long before the fighting seemed to swarm around her and she realized she was the only crew member from her vessel still standing. What was the point of setting sail with a fortified ship if it fell so easily?

For the moment she had given up her hostage in favor of more maneuverability. Somewhere in her battle she had managed to pick up a second blade and had gained the higher ground at the bow. She was readying herself to try and force back the pirate crew when a call rang out that ceased all combat.

“Enough!” said a man in bright red coat with gold togs, “Who be you, woman?”

She stood with blades poised ready against further assault as she replied, “My name is Wilhelmina Chase, of Philadelphia.”

“You’re a ways from home, lass. What brings you to the Caribbean?”

“I was here on business.”

“What manner of business?”

“Personal.”

The man strode right up to her, showing little care for her blades or ability to use them. He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he regarded her. She knew that she must have cut a strange figure of femininity as she took a mental tally of those she had crossed blades within so short a time. As he continued his querying she eased slightly at the shift in mood.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“Let us just say you aren't the first pirate I've met.”