Loose Lipped Secrets and Twinkling Lights

Loose Lipped Secrets and Twinkling Lights is my latest volume of poetry and is now available wherever books are sold online (i.e. Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc.)

It's interesting how things come together and how things change. I wrote the majority of this book in tandem with the novel Agent Phoenix (out in 2020). I usually start off with a lot of ideas and boil it down to about two or three that I'll focus on. I was going through creative frustrations - working so much and so hard only to remain invisible, to be candid - as well as my actual writing not matching what was in my head. I have so many projects that I'm excited about but I was having trouble putting my vision into words. I've read about authors writing work quickly and getting it out. I thought I'd step back from some of these bigger projects and do something quickly, something of a literary workout that I knew I needed.

I found several poems that I'd written maybe a little after the release of Reflections at Various Speeds. I actually really liked them, just needed an edit. So after cleaning them up I was interested in doing more but I had felt it was a way's off.

I had concocted Agent Phoenix as my workout book, with the thought of another poetry book niggling at me.

Still overwhelmed by what's in front of me, and dealing with crippling depression (a perk of multiple sclerosis), my life changed when my father passed away. I stopped working for a while. It was crushing. I tried not to think about it in public and act 'normal', but everything changed. It was a huge blow. I went on autopilot and the depression only got worse. I just coasted through life not really dealing with it. The hardest thing I'll ever have to write was his obituary. I then wrote a poem for his memorial (or a celebration of life, as it was referred).

The only way I could stop thinking about it - the phone call, seeing him, his no longer being there, knowing that the last time I spoke to him in person was when we ran into him at a Chinese restaurant - was to work. I dove headfirst into Agent Phoenix but wasn't satisfied so I needed one more. I thought of doing a third poetry book as another literary workout. I took the ones written between books and began to build on it. I did one poem quickly in a style that I've grown find of and I didn't really care for it. It's neat and nice but I didn't feel it. [By the way, dear reader, I decided to leave that particular piece in the book but I won't tell you which one it is, unless guessed correctly of course.]

I realized I couldn't do it quickly. Something I would go on to learn with Agent Phoenix as well. I spent a lot of time going back and forth between the poetry book and the novel. I couldn't do either quickly and noticed a shift in my writing. I slowed way down and the writing got way better. When I was trying to go fast, fast, fast, my brain said 'If you want it to read like it looks in your head you need to slow it down and pay closer attention.' I took my time with the poetry and it didn't end up being a literary workout, it was a therapy session. I reached in and pulled everything out. There are pieces in this book that still make me well up, or upset me, or make me think. It was brutal but extremely therapeutic. Once I finished it and sent it to my publisher, I didn't think about it. Everything I wanted to say at that time I had said, and just that quick had almost forgotten everything that I had released.

Agent Phoenix was close behind by a couple of months, I'll get to that book's story at another time. I hadn't gone back to my poetry book, which I'd titled Loose Lipped Secrets and Twinkling Lights (a title I snuck into one of the poems), until it was sent to me to look over before going to publication and print. It was nice to read it all with fresh eyes. Some needed an edit, some impressed me (Did I write that?), some made me cry, and just about all of it made me uncomfortable. I didn't realize how dark it was and I didn't realize just how real I had gotten or how much I'd poured out.

Life has changed for me and I'm no longer in that dark place. I'm hopeful. I got past the naked feeling of the book and am actually quite proud of it. I had something to say, on several fronts, and so I said it. Which I guess, coming to me as I write this, is its own literary workout. A lesson learned. A grueling therapy session. It also taught me just to do it, to go for it. Just say what you have to say, and change what needs to be changed afterwards.

Once I saw Loose Lipped Secrets and Twinkling Lights with an official release date, it felt good, like some of the weight had been lifted. I finished Agent Phoenix shortly after turning this book in and was once again elated when I saw its release date. I've found doing two books is my comfort zone. With two in the pipeline - one being poetry and the other an action adventure story - I felt I had some breathing room. It's one of those things that really means nothing to anybody but me, just as everyone has their own version of said feeling. I'm currently hard at work on two novels with more on the back burner awaiting their turn.

I have two more poetry books in me, both different from each other and different from the three released, but it'll be another year or so before I can get started on either of them. When I started this writing journey I thought I'd release ONE poetry book SOME day. Now I've written three and plan to do more. Life's funny. Writing Agent Phoenix and Loose Lipped Secrets and Twinkling Lights shifted things in a great way. Great workouts that turned out to be so much more. My selection process is different, my writing is different, I feel like I can now do these projects that I haven me.

Until next time, please pick up a copy of Loose Lipped Secrets and Twinkling Lights, you won't regret it.

https://supposedcrimes.com/products/loosed-lipped-secrets-and-twinkling-lights

Paranoia

PARANOIA

It’s nighttime in this sleeping neighborhood…

I don't know why I'm here. There are no porch lights on. No street lights. Everything is dark. I can't see who and I can't say why but I’m being followed. I can hear their steps echoing throughout the silent neighborhoods. With the lack of road traffic I can hear their creeping vehicles as they crawl and slither down alleyways and slowly perusing the suburban blocks. I run up to and in between houses but, for whatever reason, I never knock on anyone's door. I guess I just wouldn't trust them. This place just looks so suspicious; devious dark matter hiding beneath a wholesome image. I know if I were the people in the house I wouldn't trust me if I came to the door. They're after me. It may sound paranoid but is it really paranoid if it's true? 

I don't know how they found me, if they've ever lost me, or hell, even when they started watching me. I've never seen them; never got a good look at them. They're always dark figures hiding behind bright lights and that's the perfect description of this place, this Stereo Falls: dark figures hiding behind bright lights. Everything in sight is lit by moonlight and all appears covered in gray and illuminated with blue. I keep running but I feel like I'm in a maze. Click-clack, click-clack, I can hear their shoes on the paved road.

The walking sounds are getting closer though I can't see anyone. I run behind the bushes on the side of a nearby home. Crouching down behind the brush I see the figures of black clad men roughly through the branches. They move confidently and search the neighborhood street like storm troopers for warlords of yesteryear. I can hear them yet I can't make out the words. They look like shadows that have left their owners behind. The shadows move on in their search; their search for me. Why do they want me? I don't even know anymore. I suppose I've known about them for some time now. The feeling of being followed, silent phone calls, blank letters in the mail, mysterious looking men around my apartment, often watching me with binoculars from the street corners. At least I've believed me to be the object of their investigation. I became a shut in, albeit briefly. I refused to leave the apartment.

Keeping myself holed up was driving me crazy. I was holding myself captive with fear of these shadowy figures. I finally fled and evaded them for awhile but now I'm here...and so are they. My heart's racing and the beating is so loud I'm certain that it's audible beyond my own body and I try to calm down and quiet the thumping of the blood flow. With the men now out of sight I move on to the next spot: a dark space between two houses across the street. Faint light is seen in a window so I make sure to duck down beneath it. The window is cracked a few inches and I can hear that the couple inside is engaging in vigorous sex. I make sure to stay silent and invisible. While the heartbeats past the open window spike, mine steadies and I’m finally calm, taking in deep breaths. But the feeling doesn't last long as I hear their vehicles again. The engines of the slow-moving cars hum.

The very few bits of gravel and loose rock on the road audibly crush beneath the wheels. Time to go. I leap the fence to my side and sprint through the backyard. I didn't scan the yard as I should have. Right on my tail is a dog that's rushed from its doghouse and, from the sounds of it, is quite large. I don't have time to turn back and see for myself or even assess the situation; I just run as fast as my aching legs will take me. It barks and growls whilst galloping at me. I'm almost to the next fence and a few feet closer I jump, not fully clearing the gate as my pant leg is caught in the jowls of my chaser. The dog's relentless but luckily the weight of my body falling pulls me free and I continue through the next yard. No dog, thank God. I rush up the yard and hop the fence. My heartbeat plays like a Gene Krupa drum solo as I rest between houses.

I hope and pray that they pay no attention to the dog's barking. Dogs bark all the time. I lean back against the house's paneling while sitting in the dark trying to steady my breathing. I can still hear something but I don't know if it's THEM or a TV or radio in one of the houses next to me. My nerves are shot. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up while my skin tingles. My pores cry out with perspiration and my throat is dry from the excessive breathing. I'd kill for something to drink right now but survival is more on my mind than nourishment. Yes, to my side is the water spigot; I just hope this line's turned on. The handle creeks as I turn it. Success! Water falls out looking better than a five-course meal. I stick my mouth beneath it guzzling up as much as I can but I slow it down so I don't get waterlogged. I turn it back off, thankful. Now...about making it out of here alive.

I stretch and prep myself for the next sprint to the following location when I notice that, slowly, one by one the street lights are coming on. One at a time down the line. What is this? Are THEY doing this? A child's voice is heard behind me, "Mister..." and I almost throw my neck and back out spinning around. It's a little girl. Couldn't be older than nine; long blonde pigtails and in her pajamas. "Have you seen my doggie?” I'm thrown. "No, sweetie, I haven't.” She tells me, "He got out and I don't want him to get hit by a car.” "I don't want that either. Say, sweetie, isn't it a bit late for you to be out here?” And then everything goes black; sheer darkness is all I see. They've caught up with me. They used the little girl to distract me and now I have some kind of black sack over my head. I fight to no avail; there are too many of them though I can't see how many there are.

My heart beats like a fist is trying to punch through my chest. The lump in my throat is making it hard for me to swallow; hard to breathe. They're dragging me somewhere. My kicking and flailing legs give it a rest. Resistance is futile at this point, no use in wearing myself out. I hear one of their vehicles again before I'm presumably thrown into the trunk. The landing is hard and I'm certain I've landed on a tire iron which is now sticking into my back. The trunk is shut; everything is now darker than what it was, if that's even possible. They don't drive erratically and I can't hear anything my captors are saying through the opera blasting from their stereo system. This ride feels like an eternity. What is this? What do they want with me? I'm nobody. I can't honestly remember if I'm leaving anyone behind; kids, wife, parents, friends, anyone. I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm certainly not someone of interest.

We've stopped. The music shuts off and the car parks. The trunk opens and I'm pulled out forcefully though I'm thankful I no longer have the tire iron in my back. I'm dragged along despite my trying to walk with them. The air and ground change. It sounds like we're in some building now. I'm planted in a chair and I'm rolling...must be a wheelchair. Through the threading of the black sack over my head I catch glimpses of light as they wheel me down the hall. Florescent lights spaced apart along the ceilings of this hallway. I hear a loud unlocking sound and the opening of a large door, presumably. I'm turned around and wheeled backwards. The sack is removed and the lights in this room are harsh at first. It's taking my eyes a bit to get used to it. From what I can tell I'm strapped in a wheelchair by my arms and legs and the room I'm in looks like a medical facility of some kind.

The men in the room are in all black and are speaking amongst themselves though I can't make it out; almost sounds Russian. They turn their attention towards me. People would probably listen to me talk about my hiding out from the shadowy figures and say I'm just paranoid but, then again, those people won't have to go through what I'm about to. One of the men speaks to me in very broken English, "You no run away. You belong to us now. You signed contract. Remember?” It's vaguely coming back to me but only vaguely. Another black clad man comes from behind the one who spoke and places a massive apparatus over my head. It's silver, black, and clear fiberglass with a tray or guard of sorts resting in front of it. The device is over my head and face with the tray piece resting about eye level. I'm paralyzed with fear. The next feeling beyond terror – pain - as my eyelids are abruptly pulled open and held open by clamps on my new head gear, this apparatus.

My heart is in my throat and I can't bring myself to speak as I watch them approach me with two abnormally large (to me anyway) syringes. The needles are as thick as piercing needles and the liquid content inside them is a bright green. The two syringes are placed on the little brace piece in front of my eyes. The eager needles drip and I've never seen a drop so big. The drops fall on my cheeks and I can't tell if the liquid is freezing or burning. With the needles in place and its contents ready, they flip a switch and the syringes are mechanically being pulled closer to my eyeballs. I can't turn away and I can't blink. Please God, no. No, please God no! The needles are getting closer, larger. I tense up. I'm certain this will be the last thing I ever see. 

...And I'm right.

The Cutoff

THE CUTOFF

There she kneels before him, donning her school uniform. Her head in his lap, he's in ecstasy. Her head coming up then deep. He moans. Comfort lost as he feels her jaw lock up. The clincher, she bites down. Teeth meet. He's in shock, he can't even scream. She jerks her head up, bloodied chin and all, and turns to spit out the severed phallus before wiping her mouth. His breath is shortening by the second.

"Is this what you wanted, father!? IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED!?” She screams through the lump in her throat and her tear-swelled eyes, and in an instant Harold wakes up in bed from his terrible nightmare, collapsing his morning wood.

He sits up catching his breath.

"You have another nightmare, baby?” His wife, Claudia, to the side of him asks while still half asleep.

"Yeah.” Harold sighs between breaths.

"The one about the dog again?"

He pauses, "Yeah… damn dog.” He throws the blankets off himself to get up.

"No.” Claudia groans. "Where are you going?"

"I gotta get up. I gotta get a shower."

After a while of lying in relaxation, Claudia carries herself down to the kitchen in her pajamas to grab some breakfast.

"Hey, mom. Forgot something.” Jineane says entering the kitchen.

"Hey, sweetie, might want to get a move on. You don't want to be late."

"I know.” She says grabbing her text book off of the counter.

"Don't you ever go to school?” Harold sourly says standing at the doorway.

Her head instantly cocks over to him sharing the same look, “Don't you ever go to work?"

"I took the day off to spend it with your mother. Besides, who do you think pays for your schooling and your text books?"

"Relax, Harry, I just forgot my lit book. I'm going now.” Jineane says rolling her eyes.

"Don't call him Harry,” Her mom reminds her, "He's your father so you'll call him that."

"Step-father.” The daughter adds.

"Regardless."

"I gotta go, mom. I love you."

"And I love you.” The mother and daughter give each other a peck on the cheek and a hug. "Give your father a hug and then get to school."

"…Yes, mother."

Harold sees her walking towards him in her school uniform. The same uniform she wore in the uncomforting dream that woke him up. After a glare, she gives him a somewhat hug and a hesitant kiss on the cheek before leaving the house.

"Are you all fighting again?” Claudia asks in a sigh.

"Eh, it's nothing.” He says staring off. "C'mon, you better get dressed, we got a big day ahead of us."

Oh, but it is something. Something that happened the day before:

After studying at a friend's house for the afternoon after school Jineane was picked up by Harold out in front of the house in the family's van. She climbed into the passenger seat.

"Hey.” She said, putting her bag in the backseat.

"Have fun?” Harold asked.

"Eh, we were just studying.” Jineane claimed in a snotty manor.

"Okay.” He drove off.

Thoughts had been shooting through his mind lately. Maybe it's just a chemical imbalance, maybe it's an exciting 'what if?', or maybe, just maybe, it's the school uniform. He knew he shouldn't act on them, but thoughts got the best of him.

"This isn't the way home. Where are we going?"

"I just gotta drop by somewhere real quick.” And minutes later is when he pulled off the side of the road away from a public area, and turned the van off.

"What's going on?” A curious step-daughter asked.

"I've been watching you and your friends. I know the things you do."

"What the hell's going on?"

"Listen, when I married your mother I told her she could quit working at that awful factory job and stay home with you and your little brother. I said I'd pay for it all.” He took a break for a deep breath.

"So what's your point? You're loaded."

"The point is you've been getting a free ride for a while now. And the ride's over...” She looked nervous. "Unless...” He continued, eyeing her body.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you do what I say and keep it between us."

"What do you mean?” She gulped.

"Do as I say or else I'm gonna cut you off. Do you understand?” A long pause leads to her tearing up. "I said 'do you understand?'"

"Yes...” She said with tears rolling down her face in fear. Her heart beating faster than a drumroll.

"Lift your skirt."

"Oh, god.” She whimpered.

"Do it.” And with his command she did just that, raising her skirt, revealing simple white cotton panties. Harold saw them tightly fit against her body. His heart beat faster as well but for a different reason. He was swelling with every heartbeat. Jineane's hands are shaking, holding up her skirt. Harold began rubbing himself. Her eyes shut so tight that it hurt her face. He began looking around in a panic.

"Okay," he said undoing his pants, "Unbutton your shirt."

And so she did. She couldn't believe this was happening. She could see his penis in his hand even through her teary squinted eyes.

"Open your shirt more.” And when her shirt came open, he saw her soft teenage flesh fit snug into her bra. Harold began to masturbate. She could hear his breathing get louder and louder as he went faster and harder. Jineane refused to believe this was happening, shutting her eyes tighter if it were possible. His breathing began to escalate -- and as Harold reached his peak she could feel his fluids strike her leg. And so she winced. "Get yourself together.” He said panting and sipping up his pants. "And stop all that fuckin' cryin'.

She wiped her eyes of tears and pulled her skirt back down. She then buttoned up her shirt and looked at the semen on her leg. Jineane simply wiped it off with her fingers and smeared it under the passenger seat.

"You tell your mother about this and I'll fucking kill you.” Harold's last words before starting the van and taking off.

When they got home Claudia was there to greet them but Jineane wasn't exactly in the greeting mood, storming past her mother. And before Claudia could even ask Harold filled her in, "She and Tina had a fight. She just needs some space."

Jineane spent her night in the shower scrubbing her skin so hard it hurt.

But on with the morning. Claudia comes in dressed nice, putting in earrings, while Harold's tying his shoes.

"So, what have you got in mind for today, mister?” She asks.

"You'll see.” He says giving her a slight grin.

Meanwhile, at school, Jineane wonders how to tell someone what has happened, and if she should at all. As she's walking through the cafeteria, battling the urge to tell someone, and frankly feeling too sick to eat, she spots her best friend Tina.

"Hey, can we talk?” She asks.

"Yeah...” In the simplist 'no duh' tone before realizing that something's up. "Are you okay?"

"Let's go outside, I don't wanna talk in here.” And so outside on the benches during lunch she explains the incident to her.

"Oh my God, what a creep!” Tina shouts.

"Will you keep your voice down?” Jineane urges.

"You have to talk to someone."

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"You know what I mean. Like a cop, the counselor, or hello, your mom.” Tuna suggests.

"I can't tell my mom. She's completely enamored with him, she'd never believe me... Ugh I don't feel good.” She says holding her stomach.

"Maybe you need to eat something."

"Nah, too sick to eat."

"Oh my God, maybe you're pregnant."

"Ew, no way. I didn't, like, sleep with him."

"I still think you should see someone."

"I'll figure something out. Until then you have to promise not to tell anyone.” Tina's staring off looking stunned. "Please.” Jineane continues.

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you.” The girls hug gripping tighter than they ever have in the tenure of their friendship.

3:15pm, Jineane arrives home from school. No one is home. She's shocked. Usually there's someone home at this time. "Where is everyone?” She asks herself aloud. And before she could give the house a thorough check, in walk the parents and her brother, laughing and conversing amongst themselves.

"Oh, hey, honey, you're home.” Claudia says surprised.

"Hey, what's up?” A question coming from not knowing really what to say.

"It was great. We just picked your brother up from day care.” She says setting her son down.

"You and Harold have fun today?"

"Well your father and I had a wonderful time. He took me to a town called Stereo Falls where they have their fair at this time of year."

"Where's that?” Jineane wonders. Her mother continues unloading groceries.

"I had never heard of it but it's like two hours south of us."

"Two hours?"

"Yeah, I know, but it was worth it. We had so much fun.” And as she gets to the end of her paper grocery sack Claudia realizes that she forgot something.

"What?” She notices the look on her mom's face.

"Sheesh, I was going to make lasagna tonight but I forgot the actual pasta. Heh, must've been having such a good time my brain left me for a moment.” Claudia laughs it off.

"What's goin' on?” Harry asks from the kitchen doorway. Upon hearing his voice Jineane turns her head.

"Oh, I forgot the dang pasta."

"Isn't that the main ingredient to lasagna?” Laughs Harold.

"Yes, shut up.” They laugh together then share a kiss. Holding each other Claudia notices her daughter's sour face. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna go see what Joey's doing.” An interested sister.

"She's acting weird.” Voices a concerned mother.

"Eh, kids are weird."

"You're weird.” She says through a smile.

"Oh yeah?”

"Yeah.” They share another kiss in each other's arms.

In the living room Jineane is sitting behind little brother Joey, watching him as he sits among his toys watching cartoons. "I wish it was as easy as you see the world.” She spoke softly beneath her breath.

"Jineane, honey, will you watch Joey for a little bit while I run back to the store?"

"Well can I go with you?” She asks standing up.

"Honey, I need you to watch your brother."

"How long will you be?” Her heart sinks and beats hard enough to shake her.

"Like a half hour at the most. Will you relax?” And with that said, the girl's heart begins to race.

"Alright, I'll be back. Love you guys.” And she's off.

"Bye, mommy.” Toddler Joey says.

"Bye.” Jineane lets out though unheard.

The car starts, she hears it. And Claudia drives off and, as soon as the sound of the engine fades, she sighs... And the voice is heard.

"Don't move.” Harold says into her ear, giving her a slight jump.

As she stands leaning against the doorframe looking into the living room where young brother plays, Harry lurks behind her in the laundry room. And she's already beginning to tremble. She can feel it pressing up against the rear of her skirt, fearing, but knowing good and well what it is. She clenches up. His hand runs down her arm which is now populated by goosebumps. Harry's fingers climb down her forearm when he takes her hand by her skinny wrist and pulls it behind her. She cringes when she feels he's places her hand around his erect cock.

"That's right.” He softly says to her, pulling and pushing her hand in a stroking motion.

"Oh my fucking God.” His step-daughter whimpers beneath her breath.

"That's it. Keep going.” He moans quietly. Harold has Jineane's hand stroking faster...and faster. The warm feeling of his wrinkled skin beneath her palm brings a sickness from the bottom of her stomach. She eventually loses grip. She simply can't do it. Harry realizes this with great frustration.

"Here, damn it, I'll do it.” He grunts, flipping up the back of her skirt revealing her bottom in a thong, before taking over. Her cheeks clench up in fear of what he might do. But merely a visual for her step-father, the pervert. His breathing escalates, she's heard this once before, and had hoped to never hear it again. Harold releases one more grunt as his load's shot against the skin of her ass. Before it could even begin to run down her bottom, the vomit she'd been holding down is about to come erupting out. She runs off to the kitchen where she throws up in the sink. Behind her, where the laundry room connects to the kitchen, is where he stands getting decent.

"Remember what I told you....” And from hearing that voice again another heap of vomit arose.

"...Not one word... Or else.” His parting words as she reaches for a roll of paper towels to wipe her mouth.

Another shower. Another painful shower. Complete with soap that's ill equipped to wash away memories.

Two hours later, surprisingly enough, the whole family is sitting down to a nice pasta dinner.

"You know what I was thinking earlier?” Harry asks waving his garlic bread in Claudia's direction.

"What's that?” She replies taking in a big bite of lasagna.

"I was thinking since I was going to be working a lot this weekend it would probably be a good time for the three of you to visit your mother."

"Well why don't we wait until you can go?"

"Nah, you guys go ahead and have some fun."

"I don't know. What if it's a bad time for her.” She stops in mid-bite. Before the forkful of pasta could reach her mouth Claudia notices Harold's face.

"I already called her."

"Oh, no you didn't.” She's happily surprised.

"Yep. I called her and we talked a bit and got it set up."

"Well alright. Why not?” Claudia agrees nodding.

It hits Jineane that the topic of conversation is becoming a reality. "But wait, I got that thing for science class this weekend.” She gets out almost choking on her garlic bread. Claudia's eyes become as big as their dinner plates as it hits her.

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, I completely forgot. We'll just set it up for another weekend."

The teenager's heart slows from its rapid beat until these words: "No, why don't you take Joey and the two of you can go. I can take her to her thing and plus it'll give us a chance to hang out. Huh?” He directs his attention to the girl, "Would you like that?"

Jineane doesn't answer. Instead she changes her focus to the young man of the house in his high chair, "Joey, eat your dinner, hun."

"I don’t know. That seems alright. I'll call and see how the school thing goes. You guys can spend some time together. What do you think, Joe, you up for a weekend at Gramma's?” Joey’s response to his mother's question comes as he spits his dinner up. The timing is so perfect the other three erupt into laughter.

"I'll take that as a yes.” Chuckles Claudia.

Claudia spends her Friday night packing for her and her son for a nice weekend trip. She prepares for a fun weekend of taking Joey shopping and taking someday-embarrassing photos of him.

Jineane spends her Friday night unlike most teenage girls. She pours every drop of blood from her heart and every drop of ink from her pen onto paper. And the ink of the words run with every tear dropped. She signs the letter and puts it in a white envelope addressing it simply 'Mom' and tucks it under her pillow for the night as she takes a deep breath preparing herself for the days to come.

A sleepless night is inevitable.

The sun rises. The morning comes. Jineane said her 'goodbyes' and 'I love you's earlier completely with the envelope. To her mother's confusion she tells her, "Don't open it until you get to Gramma's.” Now for the rest of the drive up she'll be wondering what's crawling around in her daughter's mind. And with one last hug Jineane retreats up to her room where she waits and tries to mentally prepare herself.

She hears the last goodbye between her tormentor and the woman who gave her life. But it's the sound of the car's engine fading that begins her collapsing down into the corner of her bedroom. She's still in her bed clothes which are now accompanied by more tears, and her erratic heartbeat is joined by a shortage of breath... She knows. But she's paralyzed by fear.

Harold stares at her bedroom window from the front lawn before heading into the house. He begins at the first step, looking only to his destination. She hears, no, she feels his steps on the stairs up to her room. His stomps sound like troopers marching to war. The steps get louder...closer. The girl trembles. The doorknob's attempted turn reveals that it's indeed locked. She exhales. The door is kicked open. A rage of perversions has filled Harold's eyes and his hunger for lust has left drool leaking slightly from the sides of his mouth. His pants are already undone. Her body closes and tightens up. He wipes his mouth and rushes her.

Harry grabs his step-daughter by her arm throwing her to the bed. Still so paralyzed by the menace and fear she can barely scream. The lump in her throat seems to be prohibiting much sound. She pushes and kicks but he's far too strong. He stops holding her wrists long enough to rip her pants from her body. Grunting and groaning she slaps and scratches at him but after a backhand to the left side of her face puts her back down, she's subdued. Harry throws up her shirt revealing her young breasts, his eyes widen, and not but a second later literally tears her panties off. She tries her damnedest to keep her legs straight and shut but her captor’s strength overpowers her. He throws her legs to the sides and with his piece in hand plunges into untouched territory. This triggers the largest scar she will ever hold. The future thoughts of love making will be plagued by this memory. A girl's first time, to be remembered, and hers - in rape. And so he begins.

'Is this real or is this a nightmare? Why is this happening? What did I do?' Thoughts shooting through her brain as he's painfully thrusting into her. He thrusts with lust and anger, both. Harold feels the rush of empowerment conquering this young virgin flesh... he's sickeningly proud. Proud like a Viking. The drool of ecstasy he's accumulated drips down to her cheek. 'How can I live with myself after this?' His grunting's volume rises as his thrusts become longer, slower, but still forceful. ‘How could I've allowed this?' Harold reaches climax, pulling out, soaking her vagina with his juice. She's left a bloody mess but the blood can wash away - this moment will not. His face down in her breasts, Harold's panting, calming down. The teenager lies there staring at the ceiling. 'Is he going to kill me? Where's God? How much more will I endure?'

Her heart - still. His breathing, now regulated, she slowly slides out from beneath him. Harry lies there feeling no regret no remorse. She sits up quietly without a tear in her eye. Slowly Jineane walks to the bathroom all the while fluids running down and dripping from her. His victim turns on the shower and stares into the water while he's coming down from his high. The water steams the room up. She steps under the piping hot water hoping the burn will take her mind off of everything -- but it will always be there. That ghost-feeling of him being inside will stick with her no matter where - library, grocery store, with friends. But still she subjects herself to the burning. Her skin can get as red as it wants, she doesn't care. And when the hot water gives out, she turns it off and gets out - her skin steaming as bad as the water.

The poor girl looks into the mirror and, in the distance, she hears Harry's truck drive off. 'He's gone.' She thinks. 'But for how long?'

"HOW LONG!?” She screams, punching the mirror, shattering it.

And all the little faces are looking back at her:

"Why did you let him to this to us?” One said.

"Why?"

"What did we do?"

"You owe us.” As this last voice stick in her head, she wraps the hand towel tightly around her bloody hand.

She returns to her room. He's gone. Harold's fled the scene of the crime. There, Jineane stands naked staring into her bed, where she forcefully made the transition from school girl to woman.

Hours later, the man of the house returns home. He's laughing it up with a buddy on his phone. "Alright, next time, you're buyin' the beer, asshole!” He shouts in laughter. "Well I gotta get a shower and change. I gotta meet with some clients later about a big roofin' job coming up next month. Yep... Yep, later.” Call ended - he sends his cell phone flying to the couch and he's off upstairs to clean up.

After a hot shower he leaves the bathroom in a towel when he notices something... A soft red glow coming from the young woman's bedroom. He enters to find her lamps draped with red scarves giving them some mood lighting.

"Jineane?” He finds her dressed up in her school uniform. She's bent over in bed. Her shorter-than-usual skirt revealing no underwear.

She looks over her shoulder, "What took you so long to get home, daddy?” Her face dolled up with makeup, she looks as if she would be right at home in the Red Light District. She's gone all out with her looks. He's stunned. Completely stunned and turned on. She turns over to sit showing her shirt tied up, and no bra.

"Come... Sit down.” He's silent and heeds her words. He walks over to his temptress as she pulls the towel from around his waist. He can't believe this is happening. She puts his penis in her mouth and instantly his nightmare involving said situation comes into mind.

"No.” He stops her.

"Shhh, it's okay.” She leads him to sit on the bed and pushes him back. She straddles him. "Isn't this what you wanted?” He's nodding, aroused and confused. "I don't want to be cut off do I?” He shakes his head in the same manner. She kisses down his chest crawling down to where she was prior. She's stroking him. "See, isn't that better?"

"Y-yeah.” He's loving this. He can't believe how all of this has turned out in his favor.

She's stroking him faster and harder as his breathing matches. His moaning gets louder. She slides her bandaged hand under the mattress to pull out the largest shard from the broken mirror. The little reflection of the broken little girl nods at her. He's grunting. This couldn't be better. She grips his penis and pulls, and with her other hand using the piece of mirror cuts him from his most prized part. He tries to scream. He does, barely. Blood is everywhere. Jineane, in her school girl fantasy get-up, is covered in red, and this time, it's his. She stands up tossing his dick to him in bed.

There wasn't a thought to call 9-1-1. These predators don't deserve help. This is the justice they deserve. She shuts off the lights, leaving the room and upon closing the door, props a chair under the doorknob. Her tormentor is now stuck in a pitch-black room bleeding to death. And before heading downstairs she releases a sigh of relief.

Jineane comes downstairs as Claudia is standing in the doorway in tears with her letter in hand.

"I'M SO SORRY!” Claudia exclaims gripping her bloodied daughter. They embrace, barely hearing his last screams.

"C'mon, sweetie, let's get you out of here.” Her mother leads her by her hand out of the house. The cops arrive, lights flashing, reflecting off the back window of the car where she's sitting. She's stunned. "It's gonna be alright, honey. It's gonna be alright..."

Jineane stares out of the window, dressed for a good time, and drenched in blood.

Night Watchman on Duty

NIGHT WATCHMAN ON DUTY

A long day it's been; a long day of napping. A little frustration in moving with the sun spots, but nothing too bothersome. Some people think we're prissy and sleep when we want but we work at night. We're the ones who stay up and watch the house while the masters rest. We watch and protect and are given treats and such. Sometimes I get tuna and that is truly a great day. There's the Lady Master now...

"Beldamore, I got you more kitty litter, food, and t-r-e-a-t-s.” The woman says scratching the cat's head. Beldamore, the family cat, isn’t too small but isn’t too hefty and she’s certainly not a kitten and is solid black.

She thinks I can't spell ‘treats’, how cute.

The Lady Master takes the bag of groceries to the next room.

Well it's nice to know they at least keep me informed. The man master, Mr. Master, isn't around much. He works at the office doing whatever. So, he and I are a lot alike. Their daughter is nice to me. There's something about a child's eyes, I think she really respects me. She's always calling me "pretty kitty" and "pretty girl."

Beldamore yawns and stretches out, almost falling off the window sill. She licks her right front paw and wipes it over her head once and then stares back out of the window.

I've seen quite a few things through this window. Glass is a funny thing to me. You get to see what's going on in the world but at the same time it's a barrier that keeps you from the beautiful visible things from the other side. Well, the windows are always nicer on the other side.

A housefly catches her eye as it flies around her head. She swats at it. You must have been the one buzzin' in my ears last night. It flies off when the daughter enters the front door (letting the fly escape.)  It's the end of the week, Fri-something, and little master doesn't have to go to her studies for the weekend.

"Mom, I'm home.” She says coming in. "Hey, girl.” She scratches behind Beldamore's ears.

Nice to know I'm considered as part of what they call home.

The little girl walks off to her room. Beldamore notices the next-door neighbors. She can see them through their windows as the couple storms through their house to the outside. Now they're fighting and screaming at each other on the front porch. And a glance over, she catches another smaller cat staring at her, sitting in a window in the fighting couple's house. I feel sorry for that poor sap. The woman next door starts yelling louder. Jeez, buddy, give 'er a treat already.

At that moment her attention is nabbed by hearing her masters in the other room.

"You just about packed, sweetie?” The mother asks her baby girl.

"Almost. How long are we going to be gone? Is Beldamore gonna be alright here alone?"

"She'll be fine. We'll only be gone a couple of days."

"Okay."

"Besides, I'll get Mr. Johnson to come over and check on her and feed her.”

"Okay, mommy."

"Sound good then?"

"Yup."

"Okay. Finish packing."

Apparently, my family is going away for the weekend. Looks like I'm working overtime. Lookin' out for mice, burglars, salesmen, Mormon folk, etc. Hope they leave me plenty of food and water. It would be such hell to starve to death. But oh well, I can always raid the kitchen.

A long scream from the little girl echoes from the other room.

Oop, time to go.

"AHH! Mommy! A mouse!"

The mom's stomping at the mouse and missing. She suggests, "Well let's get Beldamore in here.” By the time she finished her sentence Beldamore was right behind her.

Okay ladies, I'm here now.

Beldamore hisses and swats at the mouse, batting it around like a child with a ball. It manages to run out of her reach and heads for the door. And in an instant the mouse completely stops. It’s kicking its little legs but heading nowhere fast. It turns its frantic little head around to see its tail under Beldamore's paw. At that moment her jaws open up and come down. The inside of her mouth, the back of her throat, lit by the light of the room, is the last thing the mouse is to see. She scarfs it down in the heat of the moment.

The mother and daughter masters are still on the little one's bed. The mother has an unsure look on her face.

"Eww, Beldamore. Gross.” The little master says. And sitting proud, she cleans herself.

What'd I do?

"C'mon baby, let's get you packed. Daddy should be here any minute now.” The mother says to hurry her child.

Mice are getting bigger, let me tell ya.

Beldamore walks back down the hall and goes straight for her water and food dishes to wash the taste out of her mouth. Surely the taste of uncooked mice doesn't sit well. She chomps and chomps at her dry food.

Would it kill them to get some real food?

She licks at the water to wash all the crumbs down.

Do they eat this crap, too?

"I'm ready!” The daughter yells.

"Okay, sit tight!” The mom replies from the bathroom, where she's fixing up her hair.

Beldamore jumps up on the little master's bed where she's playing with her dolls.

"I wish you could play with dolls, Beldamore.” She says looking at her beautiful green-eyed cat.

Yeah, and I wish you could eat the mice.

The front door is heard as Beldamore takes off down the hall to see who it is.

"Hello?” The dad calls out.

Oh, it's only the Mister Master.

"Hey, girl."

"Hey daddy, I'm all packed.” His daughter says proudly.

"Me, too.” The mother chimes in.

"Great, let's load up the car.” The dad replies.

Beldamore goes back to sitting in the window. She yawns and stares off into the world. Minutes of bird watching captures her time until loud THUDS of luggage startles her. The three of them have enough bags for a weeklong trip.

You'd think you guys are leaving for the whole summer.

"Okay, girl, you know the drill. Watch the house; don't rip up the furniture, and no parties.” The father laughs.

Yeah, yeah.

The family of three leaves the house, hauling their excessive baggage with them. The cat hops to the floor and stretches out, then jumps up to the front window where she can see them.

"I hope you know how to get out there. We have directions, right?” The woman says.

Look at them, always on the go. They have to be here and there but never for long. And then there's me, their little night watchman. Always here…

They drive off in their dark blue minivan. Beldamore's paw is pressed against the window.

Well, looks like I better check the perimeter. But ya know, if we had a big dumb mutt to put on the front porch it would make my job a hell of a lot easier.

After hopping up in every window to have a look outside, she feels it's time for a catnap. And so, she, the night watchman, naps into the evening. Getting her rest for anything that might come up.

The sun has come and gone and the night is here. All seems peaceful throughout the suburban area in Stereo Falls tonight. Then again, it usually is peaceful; which makes it seem so much of an easier plan for the burglars down the block. They've been watching the house since before the family left earlier that day.

"Bobby, wake up.” Arn says, nudging him aggressively. Bobby wakes up frustrated of course.

"What is it, for God's sake?"

"It's late. Everybody in town's asleep. Let's get to work."

"Okay, we gotta wake Moose up too."

"Yeah... Wait, where is Moose?” A curious Arn wonders.

"I dunno.” Admits Bobby.

"Jeez, Moose, I can't believe you'd chicken out at a time like this."

"Well maybe he just went for a walk or something before we get started.” Says Bobby.

"Take a walk? In the middle of town at midnight?"

"Well..."

"Ugh!” Arn yells slamming on his steering wheel. "Alright, it's time to go to work."

The two men get out of the car quietly and scope out the area around them, as they make their way to the trunk. It’s quiet; dead quiet. The key is turned, the trunk is popped and as it's raised a snore loud enough to wake the dead is heard. Moose, the heftier of the three, was sleeping in the trunk the entire time.

"Dammit, Moose."

"Uh, uh wha? I didn't do nothin'?"

"C'mon, get out."

"We eatin'?” A hungry Moose asks Arn, the obvious leader.

"Not now, meathead. Now let's get in this house and get out."

The three men are in their thirties and are dressed like slouches.

Meanwhile Beldamore's outside digging in trash snooping around. She heads in between houses sniffing about when she locks eyes with another green set staring back at her... And it's her in the window.

She awakens shaky and sniffing.

I hate when I have that dream.

Beldamore begins to clean herself when a sneezing fit starts, though she still keeps going in between sneezes. A yawn and a stretch later and she's down for the food dish. She's chomping down on the dry food trying to pretend it's tuna and then some water to get the dry sandy feel out of her mouth. And that's when she hears footsteps on the porch. Her furry head peeks up and notices the shadow at the front door.

Well, looks like it's time to go to work.

"Alright, Bobby, you go around and check the back. When you get in, unlock this one.” Arn says, taking control.

"Alright.” Bobby takes off around the house.

"Uh, what do I do?"

"Moose, you're lookout. You're always lookout. So look-out."

"Okay. Whatever.” Moose stands out in the center of the front yard just looking around. His head's like a security camera - facing from side to side while he remains stationary.

"Moose, you idiot! Get out of sight!” Arn yells in a whisper. Arn's looking at the front of the house. Of course, he checks the front door just in case these people were dumber than gravel and left it unlocked while going out of town. And, of course, it's locked. He shines his flashlight on the front windows. All he sees is black. It doesn't even look like fabric. No detail, just dark. He knows it's weird, "Man, this place is kind of weird," but still checks to see if they're unlocked. Locked; no cigar. "Damn."

"Boss, I'm hungry. After this can we hit a burger joint?"

"Moose, if you mention your stomach one more time, I'm gonna feed you to the neighborhood strays. Got it?"

"Got it.” Moose takes a sharp look around the block and notices anywhere from three to five stray cats and a mangy stray dog roaming around. He swallows hard, getting scared at the thought of being pet food.

Meanwhile, in the back: Bobby's already jumped the fence and has started working on the backdoor’s lock.

"And a turn here and presto...” He says picking the lock and opening the door. "Okay, here we go.” He puts his lock picking tools in his satchel and grabs his flashlight. Bobby lightly pushes the door open and looks in with his flashlight. Upon seeing the refrigerator and other appliances he realizes that it's the kitchen. "Honey, I'm home.” He whispers giggling to himself.

CRASH!

"What was that?” He asks in the noise’s direction. Something was knocked down or just plain fell but he knows it wasn't him. He's still in the doorway shining his light around the room slowly. Something moving to the side catches his eye. Quickly, the light swings back over to it. Gasping, he's startled. It's large, black, and apparently furry. But it's moving around like a snake.

"Damn.” His flashlight's out. "Not now, dammit.” A frustrated Bobby slaps his flashlight a few times. Ah, finally, it's back on. …And what the light reveals is a face half the size of his whole body with a large illuminated bright green eye and its sharp pearly whites lit by his light are the last thing Bobby sees as it pulls him into the darkness. A quick scream isn't loud enough to be heard.

Arn looks around the side and yells for Bobby in a whisper, “Bobby!” No answer. He yells back to Moose in the same tone, “Moose, knock three times on the door!”

Moose does so before answering, “Ain’t no answer!”

“Will you keep your voice down!?” An aggravated Arn yells back in a quiet tone. He walks around back to check on his partner in crime’s progress to find the back door open, “What the…? Bobby, you in there?”

He pushes the door open further and shines his flashlight around to see…an empty kitchen. Arn walks in, looking around, “Bobby?” He walks past the kitchen and into the living room. He likes what he sees; just what he thought, the house of a well-off family. He looks around for a moment before being SMACKED to the ground, “Ugh! Damn!” He tries to get up to see what had struck him but he continues to take blows from an unseen attacker. Continuously getting walloped back and forth like he’s a ball in a child’s hand, Arn tries to fight back to no avail. His face and arms (his exposed skin) is getting clawed up in the process. The “tough guy” is beginning to whimper like a kid with a scraped knee. The man, who usually preys on innocent unexpecting people, now finds himself prey to something else in this dark house; a toy to be bat around.

“Ugh! Whoa! N-n-no!” He screams being thrown around. He feels something clutch the back of his jacket and he’s thrown up in the air hitting the ceiling before falling back to the floor. It stops; finally, he gets a moment’s rest. Arn lies on the floor, a tattered mess, moaning and groaning. He tries to catch his bearings as his aggressor has backed off when he hears a low rumble. It’s almost a growl but also resembles that of an idling car. The sound is deep and loud and fills the dark space that is the room. Arn can feel the vibrations, “Wha-what is that…?” He turns over to see…the largest set of jaws he’s ever seen in his life descending down upon him. Arn sees large sharp teeth and the light catches a pink tongue of equal size and then darkness…

The air in this room is filled with the sounds of his bones crunching and his flesh tearing. Moose, still on the front porch, doesn’t hear the mangling of Arn on the inside of the house they’d planned to rob.

Outside, the air is still and the neighborhood is quiet; peaceful, unlike the mayhem that has ensued inside the house. Moose stands lookout, scanning the street with his head turning side to side. The front door behind him creaks open slowly and he turns to look.

“Alright, we’re in!” Moose yells in an excited whisper. He pushes the door open the rest of the way and steps in, shining his flashlight around the room seeing nothing but empty space. Moose walks into the house and sees, out of the corner of his eye, something black quickly slithers past him and SLAMS the door shut behind him. He reacts promptly, “What the hell was that!? Arn? Bobby? Where are you guys?” He looks around and doesn’t see what shut the door. He hears the same rumbling growl Arn heard before his untimely death. He’s getting scared and begins hearing a coarse scraping sound followed by soft brushing.

Moose’s eyes are the size of saucers, “Who’s there? What is that?” He shines his light forward into the darkness to see what appears to be a black cat almost too big to fit into the room. The large beast is licking its paw and running it over its head before stopping while its anaconda-size tail curls up around itself. It redirects its enormous green eyes to the lone man before it as he trembles in fear and urinates on himself. Moose is frozen in fear and can’t move. His eyes continue to grow as he’s in a state of shock. The animal licks its chops calmly before POUNCING and that’s all she wrote. Moose makes as nice a meal as his compatriots. The family’s home is now as peaceful as the neighborhood street outside.

Days pass and the family returns home to find their house just as they left it: clean and in perfect condition. Beldamore is stretched out in a sun spot on the floor when the little girl enters, “Beldamore!” The little girl yells as she runs to the cat. “I missed you, girl!”

It feels good to be missed.

The Little Master holds and cuddles Beldamore, the family cat who licks and nuzzles her. The parents enter, “Whew, that smell!” The Lady Master says waving her hand in front of her face. “Beldamore, I love you, sweetie, but your butt STINKS.” The woman laughs shaking her head.

Hey, your poop doesn’t exactly smell like roses, lady.

“We gotta get that litter box cleaned out. That smell is making me nauseous.” She tells her husband who promptly replies, “I’ll get right on it, honey.”

The man walks by the cat scratching her head, “Hey, girl. The house isn’t burned down; nothing appears to be broken or missing. Who says we need to get a watchdog? Good girl.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.” The little girl continues to play with the cat.

Everything turned out okay; the house is untouched, everyone’s safe, my belly’s still full and, as always, the Masters are none the wiser.