JULY 31, 1979
HAY MOON
Bored out of their minds, the girls attempt to exchange in witty banter, which is painfully ingenuous and aloof.
"When I break outta here, I'm going to send Boner and his goons up the river!" Teri exclaimed, upset about the unwarranted, unwanted, and excessively thorough cavity search that Boner had just given her.
"How are you going to accomplish that?" Stacey asked.
"Girl, I don't know what land you think you're living in, but this is America. People don't go to prison for being human traffickers. Petty thieves go to prison, who steal to feed their minimum-wage families, who can only get part-time jobs, if that. The criminal element isn't behind bars, it's behind our judicial system," Claire replied cynically but truthfully. “This corporate country is a fucking joke. Evil is never punished here, but rather rewarded. Land of the free, my ass.”
"This would have never been the America it is today, had the white man not ripped it from our hands. Talk about grand larceny," Dawn said, under her breath. "Your precious pilgrims were nothing more than common hoodlums."
"The only people who will find themselves in a river is us...and mark my word, it will be a river of tears...our tears...that will wash our hopes and dreams away bit by bit," Julie said, while cradling her imaginary, yellow kitty in her arms.
Dawn once again awoke from her dream, not knowing if what she just saw in her head was a bona fide memory or a fictitious delusion.
Ted Bundy was finally sentenced to death, in the Florida court, after a long, overdrawn period of gross incompetence by the laughable American court system. Tragically, Ted would merely be one of many serial killers who could have been stopped much sooner, had the United States been equipped with ethical authorities and a functional judicial branch.
The girls were grateful to have each other, as they were pretty much left to themselves most of the time. When one of the traffickers would get horny, he’d help himself to one or more of them, or a few of the hired hands would join in on a gangbang. Other than that, they were mainly paid attention to when a client came knocking, or when they needed to be fed (which only happened maybe twice a week, and it was always toxic slop). Then, of course, there was the occasional beating or humiliation, just to keep their jobs exciting.
None of Dawn’s cellmates had any idea that she was a feral warrior, who was just stunted and incapacitated because of such noxious jinxing. The girls could see that something was oddly unique about Dawn, but they weren’t able to put their finger on it. Dawn was strange but special, scary but sweet, and the girls could all see that. They were all afraid of her, but they also all adored and respected her.
Julie had been gone for a full week, and the other girls worried that she wasn’t coming back. Dawn had been especially concerned, having a gut feeling that something terrible had happened to her and that they’d seen the last of their childish and vivacious friend.
“I’ve had several members of my family commit suicide,” Teri falsely claimed, while just secretly wishing out loud.
“Is that really true?” Stacey asked, doing what she does best.
“Oh, please,” Claire intervened. “Seriously? Do you think we’re that stupid? If anyone should take their own life, it’s me. I was bullied mercilessly as a kid, only to be treated like wild game as an adult. My life is a fucking nightmare.”
“The Bible says, thou shalt not bear false witness,” Karen was more than happy to remind everyone.
“What are you all talking about? Julie is in trouble!” Dawn said, doing her best to put things in proper perspective and keep her cool. “She may be dead, for all we know! God knows what kind of unspeakable horrors are happening to her, as we speak? Yet, all you can do is collectively bitch? Really?! Julie is the sweetest among us. She’s so innocent. She’s just a little girl, and all you can fucking think about is yourselves!?”
“You’re right, Dawn,” Karen admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too,” Claire also apologized. What she really wanted to say to Dawn was something along the lines of, well, if you loved Julie so much, why didn’t you scissor her while you still had the chance? but she kept a tight lip. Claire was scathing and sardonic, but she wasn’t stupid. She could see something dark in Dawn’s eyes that chilled her to the bone.
“I’m sure Julie is okay,” Teri lied.
“Are you mad at us?” Stacey asked.
“No,” Dawn answered, after taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it. “I’m not mad. I love you guys. I’m just really worried about Julie.”
Dawn remained bare naked, as did the other girls. They all stank of body odor, only ever being bathed just before they were called up for a meeting with a client. And, when they were washed, it was by a sponge bath or a fire hose. As dirty and cold as Dawn was, all she could do was hold onto the vertical bars of steel and shed a salty tear for her young friend. Her sweat had caked on her skin, making it feel oily and rough. Dawn felt sick and weak, but her own problems paled in comparison to the heart she still had for the innocent. She thought about Proverbs 31:8, which calls us to defend the defenseless.
“I’m so sorry,” Stacey offered an olive branch, seeing the immense agony that Dawn was in. “I know how close you are to Julie. She really loves you. You’re the sun and moon to her.”
“These human traffickers are no better than these humans who enjoy hunting and aborting God’s creation. If I ever get my fucking strength back, I will make them all pay. I swear it,” Dawn said, as the tears washed down her face, despite her efforts to keep them caged and concealed.
Dawn remembered one of the times when Julie tried to make her laugh. She had told Dawn that they could escape, if they could only quit being stuck in traffic. This was, of course, an attempt to make fun of the sex traffickers who were tormenting and persecuting them. Julie was immature in some ways, while notably insightful in others. Dawn missed her and feared for her.
Sha Na Na’s rendition of the song, Blue Moon, played on a loop, loudly and exclusively in Dawn’s troubled mind. As she firmly held her head, trying desperately to shake out the repeating tune, she kept seeing upsetting visions of Julie dancing provocatively for her arousal. Dawn hated herself for thinking these uninvited and inappropriate thoughts, as they were mentally corrupting her motherly feelings for the youthful innocent. Dawn was psychologically damaged and she knew it all too well, which meant she wasn’t a crackpot or a nutcase. They say that crazy people don’t know they’re crazy, and she was most definitely aware of her illness. Dawn didn’t receive delight or ecstasy from harming others, so she wasn’t a sociopath or a psychopath. However, she was patently losing her mind and indisputably losing her willpower.
Dawn reached back and furiously scratched her ass, feeling a wicked itch that was relentless and ruthless. As she did this, Cheri was endowed and burdened with the same itch, as if they were both being viciously bitten by a diabolical army of fleas. Cheri lifted her butt off her seat and scratched her wider but equally yummy ass. The difference was, Cheri wound up with her hand coated and covered in blue blood. Though this greatly alarmed the Cambion temptress, it would have comforted her to know that she was on the same wavelength as Dawn.
“What the fuck?!” Cheri said aloud, as she marveled at her blue hand, while continuing to use her clean hand to cruise haphazardly down the never-ending freeway.
The pink-haired misfit considered pulling over and cleaning herself up, but she was more afraid to stop and waste any more time on herself. She was considerably freaked out by the blue fluid that she had dug out of her ass crack, but felt a grievous and dire need to keep driving. Even though it bothered her that this mystery solution was staining the seat cushion underneath her, she could telepathically sense that time was of the utmost importance and quickly running out.
Wolf didn’t notice Cheri’s crisis, as he was distracted and preoccupied in the back of the Van. He was surrounded by spirits that only his wolf senses could see and hear. Linda
was among these, and was wailing at Wolf while sitting in front of him, as if she was desperately trying to tell him something. He could see the fearful and urgent dilemma in Linda’s eyes, which woke him up to the critical condition of Dawn’s apparent circumstance. This was the first occasion where Linda had appeared to anyone but Dawn, and this time it wasn’t because Dawn was about to kill someone. Wolf knew that Dawn must be in a real fix, and it frustrated him to no end that her banshee-mother never spoke…even in moments like this where Dawn was in immediate danger.
“We have to keep moving,” Cheri said. “We don't have time to dilly-dally,” she declared, as she held her tired eyes open the best she could, and conveniently overlooked the fact that she had turned around multiple times, unable to commit to a cardinal point.
As much driving as Cheri had done, they hadn’t covered much ground, as Cheri…much like Dawn…was driving herself insane. Cheri may as well have been driving them up the walls of a giant hamster wheel.
Aside from Linda accosting Wolf, there were other spirits inside and around that Van, including an Italian maiden named, Talia Simonet, who glowed with the moonlight and wore a rosary around her neck. Cheri had more support than she would ever know, as many spirits were fond of Dawn’s pummeled but pure heart.
Talia just looked at Wolf, staring into his eyes and leading him to stare into hers. She, unlike Linda, said all she had to say without a sound. Wolf felt chills crawl up his spine, as he saw the horror in Talia's eyes. Though this scared him, he knew that Talia wasn't a threat, but that she was there as more of an omen. He could see the despair and distress in her eyes, and the genuine concern that Talia had, not only for Dawn, but for him.
AUGUST 6, 1979
CORN MOON
Selene, also known as, Mene (when she appears in male form), is the sister of Helios (the Sun) and is often found flirting and frolicking with Diana (a fellow moon goddess). Selene often pursued romantic liaisons with this Roman huntress, as well as countless human men. Selene is a heartless whore, who has no intention or interest in becoming emotionally attached to any of her playmates. This slutty deity eventually hooked up with a teenage shepherd named, Endymion, who distracted her enough to shirk her nightly duty of guiding the moon through the skies. The other Greek gods noticed Selene’s strange behavior, and that her chariot was often missing from its heavenly corral.
Night after night, Selene visited the naïve youth, slipping into his bed and creeping into his dreams. She became abnormally pale from her nightly rendezvous, and her sins eventually came to bite her in the ass. Zeus became enraged and stepped in to intervene, giving Endymion the choice of instant death or eternal youth. There was a stipulation, however, to the latter option. If he chose eternal youth, it would come with eternal sleep, meaning though he’d never age, he would never have the chance to enjoy his immortality. It is said that Endymion then became known as, Iduna, that he still sleeps to this day, lives in a Carian cave on Mount Latmos, and that Selene still visits and has intercourse with him.
While she lays with her snoozing shepherd, the moon fades away until it is totally gone. When Selene returns to her duties, the moon begins to grow again until it reaches Full mass. Even though Endymion only sees his moon goddess in his dreams, legend has it that she has borne him fifty beautiful daughters. Endymion symbolizes the subconscious, the imagination, and the magical influence caused by the phases of the moon. As Endymion bears daughters with Selene in his slumber, so are we fertilized with creative ideas during our receptive resting periods, be it in dreams, daydreams, visions, or meditation.
As Cheri sleeps in her van, she dreams that she is visited by a moon goddess. Selene appears to be wearing a shiny, silver crown and a glittery, silver bounce-back tunic. The crown resembles something from medieval times. The tunic features a round neckline, long sleeves, a double slit front with lattice detailing, an invisible back zipper, and a flattering curve-hugging fit. Selene hands Cheri thirty cherries, which all turn black as soon as they make contact with Cheri’s palm.
Cheri then looks up to see Selene joined by a woman who wore a flowing blue robe, a pearl necklace, a white shell on her back, and butterfly wings. Her name was, Mezratu, and she held a rabbit in her hands that she called, Ostarra. This rabbit had a crescent-shaped nose and smelled like pulque beer. While Cheri watched in horror, Mezratu stabbed the bunny with her abnormally long and lethal fingernails, which caused the white rabbit to explode. However, instead of blood rushing out of this small animal, it was salt water.
As this salt water splashed in Cheri’s face, she turned around to see another woman, named Hecate, who was silver-footed. None of these women spoke, but Cheri somehow still managed to identify them.
Cheri suddenly snapped out of her bad dream, and as she abruptly awoke, she found herself holding a silver disk in her hands, which had a human face in its center.
“Mama Quilla?” the disk face asked, significantly freaking her out. When she didn’t answer, the spooky disk asked again. “Mama Cocha?” Cheri dropped the disk, which made a loud horn noise as it smacked against the ground, which was also made of silver.
Cheri came out of her dream again, this time for real, only to find that she had fallen asleep at the wheel. She was driving on the wrong side of the road and an obnoxious semi-truck was honking at her, stubbornly unwilling to be the one to maneuver. Cheri immediately panicked and instinctively swerved out of his way. The belligerent driver flicked her off, as he aggressively brushed passed her. After pulling over on the side of the highway, she saw an esoteric duplicate of herself sitting in the passenger’s seat. It was an ectoplasm version of herself, but was herself nonetheless.
“Don’t mind our thoughts,” she said to Cheri. “The Devil can mess with our mind, but can’t touch our hearts…unless we let him.” With that, the metaphysical mirage vanished, as if being erased or never there. Did Cheri just experience an optical illusion or a deranged hallucination? Could she ever be any good for Dawn, if she was crazy herself?
SEPTEMBER 6, 1979
WINE MOON
Cheri continues to drive, without having the slightest clue of their desired destination, hoping that the powers of luck and chance might guide them in the right direction. As she and Wolf gaze up at the lunar eclipse, careful to not miss a moment’s glimpse, her head suddenly feels heavy and falls back. Her eyes roll into her skull, and she blinks relentlessly as if her lids were having a seizure. Wolf gets spooked as he witnesses her body mutate into a cloud of fine mist. Within a matter of seconds, the bohemian Cheri disappears and transcendentally teleports to where Dawn is. Cheri had become a lucid dream, as this was far beyond a simple out-of-body-experience. She then literally enters Dawn through her vaginal cavity and becomes part of her paranormal subconscious, assuming control and turning her nightmare into Dawn’s wet dream. As all this takes place, Cheri somehow continues to drive her Van as if she were awake and alert.
Hours later, Cheri returns to Wolf, back in her anatomic shape, with the new ability to psychically communicate with Dawn. They could now telepathically read each other’s thoughts, and Cheri therefore no longer had to wonder or guess where Dawn was being held captive. When Dawn's terminus is revealed to Cheri, through ESP, she promptly turns her Van around and heads toward the City by the Bay, also known as, Fog City. She's no longer scatter-brained, but focused on the yellow-brick road ahead of her, which is finally paved and irradiated. While Cheri was still inside Dawn, both women could hear the 1967 song, San Francisco, but it wasn’t Scott McKenzie providing the vocals, but rather them doing their own cover. They weren’t actually singing, but they saw themselves performing the song in their heads and did so in beautiful harmony.
Since it had been confirmed that Julie had in fact been murdered by one of the prestigious clients, Dawn began thinking hard about her own mortality. Joy’s curse, which Dawn was still oblivious to, had given no sign of ever leaving her, and she was only getting sicker and weaker by the day. Dawn knew she may never see Wol
f or Cheri again, and that scared her. Not only was she heartbroken, but she was helpless in aiding her new friends in her new nightmare. She genuinely cared for these girls, and had especially grown to care for Julie. Now, Julie had been snuffed from her life and taken away from her, like everyone else she had ever given her love to. Dawn wasn’t good for anyone, and now it looked like her time was nearly up.
“What’s the matter?” Claire asked. “You look like you’re hung up on a dude?”
“It’s more like she’s hung up on me,” Dawn admitted openly, while blatantly denying that it was mutual.
“She?” Stacey asked.
“Damn. You're nutty,” Karen said.
“I think that’s neato,” Teri lied, pretending that she admired her bisexuality. “Good for you, lesbo.”
"I'm afraid," Dawn confessed. "I'm scared shitless that I'm going to burn in Hell for what I've done."
"I don't know what you've done," Karen said, "but, according to the Word of God, all sin is equal in the Lord's eyes.”
"That's actually not Biblical at all. I realize that this is what ministers like to convince people, but it's not supported by Scripture. The Christian church tells us that all sin is equal and that good deeds don’t get us into Heaven, but both of these statements plainly contradict the passage in Romans 2:6-11."
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