In Times Of Want

by Marie O'Regan

  “Sounds fair.” I took a belt of the whiskey and let the air hiss through my teeth as it seared my throat. “Thanks.” I put the glass back down, and watched in amazement as she topped it back up before disappearing in response to a summons from further down the bar. This was showing all the signs of being a very hard night.

  I had no idea.

  Alone at the bar as Sarah worked, I barely noticed her refilling my glass as I went over the row I’d had with Helen earlier. I couldn’t even remember what had started it – but I knew how it ended. I’d shoved her up against a wall with my hand around her throat as I hissed: “Don’t ever tell me what to do!” and walked out. All because she’d been suspicious about my trip to the pub. And didn’t she have every right to be? I leaned my head back and swallowed, feeling the golden heat sink into me – and watched, befuddled, as a hand with long, claw-like nails held a bottle over my glass, refilling it. Dimly, I heard Sarah’s voice. “Careful, darlin’. Don’t get too drunk.”

  Too late.

  Twelve o’ clock, and I was shuffling down the road, arm slung over Sarah’s shoulders. She was surprisingly strong for a little thing, I didn’t seem to be causing her any problem at all. We stopped in front of a newsagents’, and I stared owl-like at the ads in the window, trying to make sense of them as Sarah fumbled for her keys.

  I don’t really remember the door opening, or the struggle upstairs – my next clear memory is of lying naked on Sarah’s bed as she straddled me. I think that must have shocked me sober.

  The air was cold on my body, and I could see my breath plume as I gasped. She was beautiful. Slim and muscular, her skin – all dark veins against a milky white background – glowed like marble in the moonlight.

  “Sarah?”

  She looked down at me, her eyes black slits in the darkness. She smiled, and leaned over me, whispered in my ear. “Want to know a secret?”

  The question seemed loaded with menace, somehow. I tried desperately to fathom what was wrong here, why I was terrified. She sniggered, and I knew.

  “You’re not Sarah.”

  “Oh I am, honey. Trust me.” She trailed her tongue down my torso, and I screamed as it burned. “It’s just that Sarah isn’t what you thought she was.”

  She dipped her head lower, and I roared in pain as she encircled me with her lips. She relented, and raised herself over me once more. She threw her head back and howled, and as the moonlight fell fully on to her, I saw.

  I saw what she was, what she’d always been, except I’d been too blinded by the chance of a quick fuck to see it. She was beautiful, yes, but that beauty was terrible. She started to writhe on top of me, and I felt myself succumb – desire was building to fever pitch, and I could feel the heat rising in response to her movements. It would be over soon. Her skin started to redden as if she were on fire, and in a way I suppose she was. She laid her hands on my chest and I howled in pain – angry looking prints were left there when she took them away. The temperature in the room was rising, higher and higher, the windows now weeping with condensation, my torso slick with blood – drawn expertly by her nails every time she touched me.

  I felt myself coming to a climax, even though I’d never known such agony; and as I came she screamed in pleasure, brightening the room until it was like day as she glowed with heat. Finally she relaxed, and climbed off me, patting her stomach – already starting to swell.

  “Poor Sam,” she crooned, careful now not to touch me – she’d done enough damage, and I was dying in front of her.

  “Helen…” I croaked, and watched Sarah’s face darken.

  “You should have thought about her before,” she whispered. She stood, and the air cooled. I whimpered in gratitude, too scared to look down at the burns she’d inflicted. Breathing was becoming difficult, now; my lungs felt as if they were full of soup, and it was getting worse by the minute.

  She moved to the door, and turned to face me, eager to impart one final piece of information. “I guess you know what I am by now, don’t you?”

  I groaned, and she took that as a plea.

  “You do know what a succubus is? I kill my lovers, Sam, every single one.”

  “D-Death would be…pretty good right about now.”

  “It won’t be long, lover, I promise.” She stood in the doorway, smiling as she listened to my tortured breathing. Then she fired the final shot. “You should know one more thing about me, though.”

  “Huh?” I was beyond caring, just wanted to die – wanted the pain to stop.

  “I can’t just roam as I will.” She saw the truth dawn in my eyes and nodded. “I have to be sent. Now who would want to send you a succubus, Sam, hmm?”

  She was gone, and I was dying. I lay there for twenty more minutes, trying to cry but only choking on my own fluids as I burned up from the inside.

  Helen. You bitch!

  So now I wander around, staying firmly away from any sign of ‘the light’, eager to ruin what remains of Helen’s life. I’ve managed to scare off four boyfriends so far.

  She knows it’s me. I can see it in her eyes, each time one of them calls to stammer out an apology. I stand right behind her as she answers the phone, and laugh in her ear. If I’m having a good day I can even make her flinch, as she smells the cooked meat stench I left behind.

  I know she hopes I’ll pass on, let go my hate, forgive her and leave her alone.

  Fat chance.

  Life might be a bitch, but dying is so much worse.

  And it lasts much longer.

  Play Time

  Tommy stood still, head cocked to one side, listening to the night-time noises of the playground. By day these places were full of the sounds of children squealing with delight, maybe crying at some mishap – a fall, or a bang to the head or knee, perhaps an argument with a friend or a tussle with a bully. But overall playgrounds were happy places, full of joy. Even their name showed that to be true.

  Night-time was different. By night the only sound was the wind moaning through the creak of the swing’s chains and the whispering of the leaves on the trees – the slow sigh of the night’s chill as the playground waited for morning to come and banish the darkness. That was all the noises could be, he decided. He’d listened to, and catalogued, each of these sounds, one by one, until he was satisfied, huddled as small as he could make himself: a small dark shadow on the last swing on the row.

  He sighed, wishing it was earlier. There was no-one left to play with – all had gone home for their dinner, full of the day’s adventures and ready for sleep to claim them; only to release them in the morning, eager for more. Their mothers had come for them, reducing their number by degrees until he was the only one left. He eased his weight back and kicked off with his feet, letting the swing carry him gently backward – he wasn’t sure where his mother was; and it was late. Shouldn’t she be here by now? his mind whispered, and he told it to shush. She’ll be here. She’ll come.

  He tilted his head at a new sound – one unexpected at this hour. There it was again, the high-pitched tinkling of a girl’s laughter. He craned his neck to look behind him into the bushes, then scanned the rest of the playground, but could see no-one. Digging his heels into the earth below him, he brought the swing to a standstill, quieting the creak of the chain against the crossbar. A sudden gust of wind whispered through the trees, and errant leaves danced in the air before him.

  Tommy…

  Now he knew he was imagining things, because the wind couldn’t know his name. Footsteps skittered off to his left, and he whirled around to see what was there. The sodium light guttered fitfully, barely illuminating a small circle around it, but it was enough. A shadow was cutting off part of the lit circle – a girl shaped shadow, from what he could see. Boys didn’t have pigtails. Maybe it’s not pigtails, his mind whispered again. Maybe it’s horns! He whimpered, and this time the laughter wasn’t just in his head. It rang throughout the playground, and Tommy saw a light come on in a house behind the park.

&nbs
p; “Silly, girls don’t have horns.”

  Tommy gasped – and felt icy fingers play his spine. The voice – and the pigtails, apparently – belonged to the girl standing at the edge of the light, staring at him as if he’d said something stupid. He hadn’t, had he? He was only thinking.

  The girl grinned at him, then, and he knew, he just knew, that she could hear what he was thinking – even if she said nothing about it.

  He took a deep breath before asking, “Who are you?”

  “Who do you think I am?”

  Tommy frowned. “That’s kind of a stupid question,” he said. “How am I supposed to know that?”

  The girl moved back a little, so that all he could see was her eyes. The rest of her stood in darkness, but her eyes glowed with yellow light, and oh, how they danced.

  “I guess that’s true.” She moved a step closer to him, and the wind screamed. “My name’s Mary.”

  “You’re out kind of late, Mary.”

  “So are you,” she retorted, and she inched a step closer, twisting the cloth of her dress in her fists. “Shouldn’t your mother have come for you by now?” Her skin was pale, her mouth pinched – she looked so cold.

  Tommy looked around at the gate on the far side of the playground, and sighed. No one was there. “Yeah, she should.” He looked at Mary once more, his face hopeful. “Maybe she got delayed, met someone…you know, got talking.” It wouldn’t be the first time his mother had been a little late, delayed by another mother who wanted to chat; but it was never more than a few minutes, and she always ran so fast to get to him, so he wouldn’t worry. He looked towards the gate once more, hoping he’d see her racing towards him, her red hair flying back in the wind, showing him her relieved smile when she saw him waiting. There was nothing.

  “Kinda late, though,” Mary offered. Her voice shook, and Tommy wondered just how long she’d been waiting here. “I mean, it’s dark.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he replied. He took a closer look at the girl; her eyes were huge with fear. “You’re not scared…are you?”

  “Who, me?” She laughed, but he wasn’t convinced. “Nah, not scared.” She looked around, seemingly bored, and when her gaze came to rest on Tommy again there was something there that hadn’t been before. “You get used to it.” Yep, it was there, all right – it was anger, bleeding into her voice more with every second.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know.” She wouldn’t look at him now. “Long time, I guess.”

  Tommy tried to think if she went to his school. She really didn’t look familiar, and it wasn’t that big a town. He should know her, if she lived nearby. “Where did you say you live?”

  She grinned at him, then; her small teeth almost too white in the darkness. “I didn’t.” She moved a step closer. “What’s the matter, Tommy? Scared?”

  “No, I just wonder where she is, that’s all.” He inched back from her, wary of allowing her too close even while calling himself stupid for letting a girl rattle him like this. “It is late.”

  Mary stood back suddenly, turned and walked towards the roundabout at the edge of the playground. “You’re going to freeze if you sit still like that.” She started the roundabout turning, pushing at the ground with her foot as if she were on a scooter. “You might as well play while you wait, it’ll keep you warm.”

  Tommy hesitated. His mother would see him clearly while he sat on the swing, he knew…but the roundabout wasn’t that far away, was it? She should still see him…and he’d definitely see her. The roundabout squeaked as it turned, and Mary giggled. That decided it. At least if he played with Mary for a while he’d be warm, and – more importantly – he wouldn’t be alone any more. He cast one more glance at the gate and then ran to Mary, yelling: “Wait up! I want to play!” The two children laughed as they played, and the darkness crept up and wrapped them up in its embrace.

  Sarah Warner stood impatiently at the playground gate, trying to stop her hair from getting too messy in the wind. This wasn’t the kind of day she’d have picked to go to the park but then her sister wasn’t her – that much was painfully obvious. Sarah checked her watch yet again, as if catching the minute hand in the act of moving would magic Lauren into existence.

  “What are you doing?”

  The voice was unfamiliar, and it took Sarah a moment to realise the words were meant for her. Looking down, she saw a small girl, maybe eight or nine years old, wrapped in a shabby coat and with her socks rolled down around her ankles. One knee was scuffed, but she didn’t seem to mind. The girl waited patiently, and Sarah forced herself to be polite. “I’m waiting for my sister.”

  “Is she coming here to play?”

  Sarah suppressed a grin. “No, honey, she’s not. We’re going shopping.”

  The girl frowned, thinking hard. Her question, when it came, was so obvious Sarah could have kissed her. “Then why meet here? Is she leaving her kids here to play?”

  “No.” Sarah didn’t want to talk about that. “No, she doesn’t. She just likes to see kids having fun, I guess.” No need to involve this child in the misery of her sister’s life; the emptiness.

  The child said nothing, just stared at her, and Sarah found herself getting nervous. Why, for God’s sake? This was just a kid! Someone called Sarah’s name, and both of them looked down the hill – Lauren was bustling towards them, her dark hair unruly and a big smile plastered across her thin face.

  “Hi! Who do we have here?”

  Sarah didn’t know what to say. The little girl looked Lauren up and down, her face serious – Sarah stifled the urge to laugh. Then she grinned, and her face lit up.

  “I’m Mary. I was just saying hi.” She looked from Lauren to Sarah, and then back to Lauren. “You two don’t look much like sisters.”

  Sarah took Lauren by the arm, not wanting to prolong the hurt for her sister. “No, we don’t, but we are.” She grinned at Lauren. “Sometimes we even act like it. Come on, hon, time to shop.”

  Lauren followed her, then turned and waved at the little girl, who grinned and waved back before disappearing into the crowd of children. “Cute kid, huh?”

  Sarah searched the playground, but saw no sign of her – she’d melted from view completely. “Yeah, she was great. You hungry?” She urged her sister forward when she nodded, and tried to listen to the prattle – ignoring the feeling that the little girl was still watching them.

  The clatter of cups on saucers and plates on trays in the heat of the café was almost painful after the quiet of the park in the cold. Sarah felt her face flush in the heat, and managed to get herself out of her coat without having to stand up, which was a relief in this small space. Lauren looked as pale as ever, and Sarah envied the way she never flushed. She took after their mother, pale and dark; while Sarah favoured their father, a man of far ruddier complexion and chestnut hair. She even had his freckles.

  The waitress pushed mugs of hot chocolate in front of them, then trudged over to the next customer, already gesturing impatiently. Sarah took a sip of her drink, wiped the foam off her lip, and looked up to see her sister staring at her, deadly serious.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Lauren had the good grace to look abashed. “Another kid went missing last week.”

  “Another one? Really?”

  Lauren nodded, her enthusiasm escaping now she knew she had her sister’s ear. “From that playground.”

  “From the one I met you at this morning?”

  Another nod.

  Sarah sighed. “Is that why you were so keen to meet there?” Lauren’s face fell, and Sarah fought hard to stay kind. She didn’t want to frighten her off. “Honey, this isn’t healthy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Exasperated, Sarah blew her fringe out of her way, a habit Lauren knew only too well. Her chin set, as she grew stubborn in return. Sarah sighed. How long was this merry-go-round going to keep running? How many times were they going to end up right back here? “You c
an’t keep obsessing about kids that go missing.”

  “I’m not obsessing!”

  “You’re scoping out the playgrounds where they disappear! How is that not obsessed?”

  Lauren stared into her mug, her face solemn. A single tear spilled over onto her cheek and cut a track in her make up as it fell. “It’s not fair.”

  Sarah reached for her hand. “No, it’s not. And I’m sorry, honey, really I am.” She squeezed her sister’s hand and handed across a tissue. Lauren ignored her, wiping her eyes and focussing on her cup. “Lauren, kids go missing. All the time. Sad but true.”

  Lauren glared at her. “That doesn’t make it right!”

  “No, it doesn’t. But it doesn’t make them yours, either.”

  Lauren flinched at that, but Sarah pressed on, hating herself – and hating Lauren for making her do it. “There are ways, Lauren, we’ve talked about this. Adoption, fostering…”

  Lauren was shaking her head, vehement in her refusal to listen. Sarah grew exasperated. “Why on earth would you think hanging around playgrounds is a way to get a kid? It’s creepy!”

  “I don’t know.” Lauren’s voice was low, choked with grief and self-loathing. “I just like being near them, okay? It makes me feel less…”

  “Less what?”

  “Redundant. Alone.” She glared at her sister now, fierce in her contempt. “I know how that sounds, you don’t need to tell me.” She wiped her eyes, stared out of the window, at the people wandering by with no idea how hollow her life was. “It just helps.”

  There was nothing to say, thought Sarah. There were no words that could help here, it was just sad, and raw, and hurtful. And that wouldn’t stop anytime soon. She joined her sister in gazing at the world as it passed, blurry in the steamed windows; and perhaps better for it.