by Steve Wands
“But that’s not fair!”
“Life ain’t fair, but that’s how it is. Daddy has to have his time alone first, then you can play.”
“Whatever. Can we keep her if she likes us?”
“Sure. But I don’t think she’s going to like us.”
“You always say that.”
“And Daddy’s always right, ain’t he?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Whatever.”
Jerry pulled himself up off the couch and patted her on the head. He yawned and stretched and his back cracked and he grumbled about it. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Make sure you’re upstairs with the door locked and your ass in bed. And don’t leave any of your shit lying around, okay?”
“Whatever!”
Red agreed to meet him in the parking lot of the Food-town nearest Club 18. She’d leave her car there and he’d take her back to his place. She thought it was odd, but went along with it anyway. He was paying enough to not give a shit and she didn’t plan on doing any driving once the party started. She was a stripper with a heavy coke habit who fucked on the side for cash, looking just barely eighteen years old, but driving under the influence was a no go for her.
When he pulled up, he was disappointed that she wasn’t wearing her usual costume, but smiled when she pulled out a picnic basket from the trunk of her car with the red cloak dangling out. She looked great aside from that, not oily like she did on stage, but dry and pretty like she could live next door and not be a whore. But she was what she was and that was what he wanted. He wanted a whore tonight, and he wanted to break her in every which way.
Jerry gleefully drove back to his home. She ran her fingers up and down his leg, stroked his neck and spoke to him in such a soft voice that it almost made him forget he wished her harm. It was euphoric. He was enchanted, aroused, and eager to please her. He pressed down harder on the gas.
Once home, Jerry was ready to party. He locked the door and headed for the kitchen. He fished out a few beers, a plate, a razor, and a bag of the sweetest candy this side of the street. He handed her a beer and they clinked rings and took swigs.
Jerry took the plate and emptied out a few little piles of coke. He took the razor and began to smooth them out into nice narrow little lines as Red dug through her purse for a single. By the time he was done she had rolled up a dollar into a tight tube and was ready for it. He slid the plate over to her and she took a nice long smooth snort of it, coughing when she finished. She handed him the rolled up dollar and he did the same, only chasing it with a chug of his beer. They both did another line and found themselves high and numb and ready to fuck.
They began to probe each other’s bodies, pushing, pulling, grabbing, clawing. They tore each other’s clothes off in minutes and he was fingers deep in another. They moved at each other so quickly that Jerry found himself wondering what the rush was. To him everything was foreplay. It was all ritual. All a build-up to the climax. He could go right now if that was how it was going to play out and the coke would make sure he could go all night long if he wanted. He just couldn’t help himself, and as if hearing his thoughts she stopped.
“Jeez, tiger, you’re ready to pounce, huh?”
“Can’t help myself, babe,” he smiled, “just looking at you drives me nuts.”
“Well, then watch this…”
She walked over to her picnic basket and pulled out her usual stage outfit. She began to perform a little reverse strip tease for him, putting on one article of clothing at a time, as slow as she could. First the panties, then the leggings, the skirt, the bra, the shirt, and finally she donned the cloak, lifting the hood over her head. This was what he wanted. He wanted a show, the fantasy to become reality, the real to become unreal. And here she was standing before him, dressed in red and paled to perfection snorting another line of blow, as Jerry couldn’t take it another minute. He got up and began to undo everything she just did, but he left the cloak on. He thrust into her and it felt like everything he ever wanted, the perfect drug wrapped wet around his throbbing member. They did their dance and when it was all said and done Jerry collapsed onto the couch. He couldn’t believe how great it was, and how tired he felt. He did another line and pounded a beer, but he still felt so damn tired. Red came over to him, still cloaked and spoke to him in that soft seductive sales-pitch for the champagne room tone. Her face was blurry, and then all he saw was black.
She picked him up and carried him to his bed upstairs. She placed him gently on the bed, covered him up and as she turned around she saw Kate standing in the doorway.
“Hi, Kate,” she said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hi…umm…”
“You can call me Lilly.”
“I thought you were Red?”
“That’s what your daddy likes to call me,” she smiled.
“Is that because you dress like Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Exactly. I’m an actress at the Downtown Theatre Group.”
“That’s not what my daddy said. Daddy said you’re a whore from the strip club.”
“That’s no way for a little lady to talk.”
“I can talk however I want when I home. Not that its any of your business…can you…I just…I want my daddy to read me a bedtime story, okay?”
“Daddy’s sleeping right now. How about I read you a bedtime story?”
“Whatever. But daddy makes up his own. He makes them better than they are in the books.”
“Don’t worry about that. I got a story for you, sweetie. Why don’t you come lie down with me and we can keep daddy warm?”
“Whatever.”
They each took to a side of Jerry. Lilly snuggled close, making sure their skin touched. Kate just looked agitated and impatient.
“So…a long time ago, when the world was still new there was a man named Adam. He was made out of dirt and dust. He thought he knew everything, but he didn’t. He was blinded by his father and only knew the world as it was told to him. Then one day a beautiful woman came along who truly knew the world. She knew Adam was made of dirt and dust and didn’t care. They fell in love and got married in a big garden. They were happy for a while, but Adam didn’t really love Lilith, he thought he did, but he didn’t really. He just wanted a wife because he didn’t have one. So, Lilith left and Adam and his father wouldn’t let Lilith back into their garden because she found another man who could love her for her, and ever since then Lilith was called bad names. Men began to hate her, they would throw stones at her, even spit at her in public, but when they went home all they thought about was Lilith and how they wanted her. After a while all the bad words they called Lilith gave her strength and power. From then on Lilith would take the power of men who spoke poorly of her and leave them to die, and if they had children she would sometimes eat them. The end, now go to sleep.”
“That’s a stupid story, my daddy tells much better ones. His have tons of blood and guts in them.”
“How about we save the blood and guts for tomorrow?”
“Whatever.”
*
The Seed
*
“I love you,” he lied, pushing his way inside.
She didn’t stop him, tolerating his bullshit, and bearing the pain of his ‘young love’. Her fingers dug into the cold dirt, pulling up clumps of grass as he grunted and moaned and stabbed at her with his member. This isn’t love, she thought, this is what I have to do. She wished it to be over and wanted it to stop, and she could feel that he was almost there. One more stab and he’d be a limp dick on top of the world.
The trees around her seemed to move, walling the lover’s off from the rest of the world. Their bark; dry, cracking. Their branches hung like tree-brown icicles ready to fall—reaching skyward than realizing it was too far away, so why bother.
He bucked and writhed in her, moaning in relief, as his seed sputtered out like the spit from his mouth.
He pulled himself out, instantly limp and leaned against the tree to his back. He shuffled around in his pants pocket and found a smoke. She lay there, letting his seed drip out. She could feel the grass against her nakedness, climbing up into her to gather his seed. She smiled. It was working. She sat up looking at the boy, smiling for the first time since they came out here. He found his lighter, smiling back at her with a bent cigarette dangling off his lip.
“They won’t like that,” she said to him.
“What’s that? Who’s they,” he lit the cigarette.
“The trees,” she said.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a hippie-chick,” he smiled.
“You should’ve gotten to know me better,” she stopped smiling.
“I thought that’s what I just did.”
“Hmm,” she looked up at the trees. “Is that what you did to Mary? Got to know her? It was right here, too, wasn’t it?”
“Hey, wait, that was an accident. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You should’ve gotten to know her. She loved you. You would’ve known she had a sister. You would’ve known she had dreams. She was going to be something…something special,” she began to cry.
“Stop this! J-Just shut your mouth, you don’t know anything,” the boy screamed.
A tree branch swatted the cigarette from the boy’s mouth, cutting his lip. He yelped. The trees had moved. The branches moved in the air like snakes, hissing, rattling, full of venom. They struck like lightning, wrapping around his throat, his wrists, his legs, and his limp dick. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, but he wanted to. The ground began to rumble. The roots made their way to the surface, ripping the boy free from the branches, allowing his screams to break the silence for a moment as the roots pulled him under. Then, silence.
She walked away, the trees parted, they got what they wanted and in return she did too. She looked back, and a new sapling was breaking through the dirt.
*
The Beast
*
“We’re not like other people, Craig,” his father said.
“Why not, Dad?”
“Cause God made us this way,” he replied.
“Okay,” Craig nodded.
“Don’t you want to know how we’re different from other people?”
“Okay,” Craig nodded again.
Craig’s father, James, walked to the cellar door, he opened it and in wafted the smell of wet books and damp earth. He led the way down the creaky cellar stairs, running his fingertips along the cool bricks. Craig did the same. James pulled up two chairs from behind the stairs and sat down, patting the seat of the other for his son to join him. He did. They sat in the darkness of the cellar, while the beast moved around in its darkest spots. Craig grew nervous. It was his first time in the cellar. James figured he was old enough now; eight was a ripe age for knowledge.
“God made us like no other, Craig,” James said, “He made us Keepers; Keepers of The Beast. What we feel, it feels. Which is why we must always remain calm and collected, otherwise The Beast will grow wild and it will make us wild. You see? It’s a double-edged sword that only God’s chosen few can wield.”
“Okay,” Craig nodded, “that’s cool. But it’s scary. It’s a monster…and it’s in our cellar.”
“Anyone can be a monster, Craig, and The Beast is nothing to fear. It’s just a reminder of what we can be, and if we indulge in our base impulses then The Beast can run free and feed off of those impulses. Get it?”
“Kind of,” Craig thought about it, “but I’ve been angry before…did The Beast run wild then?”
“No. No, you weren’t ready then. Now you are,” James patted him on the shoulder. “You’re ready to do God’s work. Do you want to be a Keeper? Have a beast of your own?”
“I guess. Can I bring it to school too? In case of bullies?”
“If that’s what God tells you to do, but if The Beast runs free for too long then it will consume you. It will be you in the darkness, instead of it, with no chance of ever getting out.”
“Did you ever let yours run free?”
“What do you think happened to your mother?”
*
Old Flames Burn Just the Same
*
Dale hung up the phone. He wasn’t sure why he agreed to meet with Samantha on such short notice and on a Sunday. Dale hadn’t seen her in months and preferred to spend his Sunday’s at home doing a whole lot of nothing and getting ripped by sunset. He supposed he could do some of the former, and still plenty of the latter.
He had about an hour to get ready and meet her. They were meeting up at Burkette’s Park where Dale spent many Saturday mornings fishing. He still needed to brush his teeth but was debating on leaving them as is, just to spite her.
The park could have been picturesque if it weren’t for the poorly maintained grounds and the overgrown trees. The day was nice, but the bugs and the duck-shit lessened its appeal. Dale sat waiting on a faded bench in between the pond and the parking lot. He brought a six-pack and a paperback novel to start on. He arrived late but knew that no matter what time he showed up Samantha wouldn’t show up till fifteen minutes after that. It was her nature—as water was wet, she was late.
He flipped through the first few pages, hesitant to start reading. He laid the book down on his lap and pulled a beer from its plastic ring. He popped open the tab and took a large gulp. He was about to open the book when Samantha came walking toward him. Early?, Dale thought. No way, not her, he looked disbelievingly at her. And, she looked good too—too good for him. She must want something, he figured.
“Hey Dale,” she said, her voice as warm as the sun.
“Sam,” he nodded.
“What’re you reading?”
“Nothing you’d like. Want a beer?”
“Sure,” she reached down and plucked one.
“So, what’s up?”
“I did something stupid, Dale, really stupid,” she said.
“Humph,” Dale grumbled. Whoever this woman was it wasn’t the Samantha he knew. She would never open up to him so quick. She must really need help on this one, he thought.
“What’d you get yourself into this time, Sammy?”
“It’s not me I’m worried about…”
“If it ain’t you in trouble then why should I care?”
“Cause it’s you.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry Dale…I tried everything…but it won’t listen…”
“What’s it? What did you get me involved with? I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re after,” Dale chugged the rest of his beer.
“It doesn’t want money. I’ve tried everything, and for some reason it wants you,” she explained.
“What. The. Fuck are you talking about?”
“Okay, let me start from the beginning… Remember that old bookstore we used to go to? —Well, I found this book there. Its some kind of spell book and me and Katie, and Rhonda all got together one night. We were drinking having some fun, and then somehow we ended up looking through the book. We came across some lovers spell. We were drunk, ya’know? Just having some girl-time, nothing serious, we didn’t even take the book serious…but once we started reading the words the room went dark and we started hearing all these noises,” she started to tear up.
“Now listen, Sam, I don’t have time for this bullshit,” Dale said.
“It isn’t bullshit! Just let me finish okay?”
“Okay. Get on with it,” he replied grabbing another beer.
“So, we hear these noises. They sounded like whispers. It was really creepy so we stopped reading the spell. And then I noticed that Katie’s eye went black—like all black, even the white part. Rhonda’s too, and they said so were mine. Then we get a call…it’s Rhonda’s husband…he’d been killed in a car accident! Then yesterday Katie’s boyfriend killed himself…Dale, I know you don’t believe me, and you won’t believe this…but you were the last person I was involved with. I
know you think I was cheating at the end but I wasn’t and now something’s going to try to kill you…” she broke down, “…and…and…it’s all my fault!”
“Bullshit. You were a liar and a cheat, and now you’re just plain old bat-shit-fucking-crazy!”
“Dale, I’m sorry. I really am, I never wanted this to happen. And I really loved you. We were just having fun is all…but this thing wants all our old flames before we can have any new ones. That’s what it says in the spell: ‘Burn away the flames of old, or never shall a kindling grow.’”
“Damn it, Sam! I’m outta here,” Dale stormed off.
He left her at the bench, not once looking back at the woman he once loved, the woman who now sat with her head in her hands sobbing. He kept his head straight and walked.
Once at home it grew dark quickly. It was the middle of the day, but the inside of Dale’s home looked of early evening. Shadows moved across the walls, but Dale didn’t notice. There were shapes of moving darkness, thin elongated forms moving about the house. Then a picture frame cracked. The floorboards creaked. The shadows surrounded him, but he didn’t notice. He drank his beer and as he swallowed his throat grew tight. The shadows wrapped around his throat, the beer unable to slide down, Dale squirmed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, he could only smell a mixture of fire and Samantha’s favorite perfume. His life didn’t flash before his eyes, he was dying too quickly for that, but he had enough time to think that though Samantha may have been a lot of things a liar she was not.
*
Shelter
*
Closing time. The sun beats against the windows as dusk staggers to its feet, declaring the death of yet another sticky-sweet summer day. Everyone has left for the day, except for Carter. Carter hangs the “closed” sign in the window, and grabs the vacuum cleaner. He flips it on and the noise drives the animals bonkers. The dogs claw at their cages, barking and yelping. The cats scurry away. The lonely rabbit remains steadfast but his eyes are wide and heartbeat rapid. Carter rounds the reception desk and snags a dum-dum pop from the candy bowl next to the sign-in book.
Having finished cleaning up the place Carter washes his hands and fishes out his dum-dum pop. He unwraps it and plants it into his mouth. Carter’s beard is so overgrown that tendrils of hair continually find their way into his mouth. He hates it but refuses to shave or even clean it up till he has to, and the last time he checked the mail he didn’t notice any weddings coming up, so what was the point? He resembled an animal, and he preferred it that way. He cleaned up well but didn’t do it often enough to leave an impression. As he twirled the pop in his mouth, hair from his face twirled with it.
