Exodus by Pritchard, Christina Leigh (1)

 

 

 

 

 

The Escape Reality Series

Book Nine

EXODUS

 

A Novella by

Christina Leigh Pritchard

 

 

 

 

The Escape Reality Series

Book Nine

EXODUS

 

 

A Novella by

Christina Leigh Pritchard

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Christina Leigh Pritchard All rights reserved.

 

ISBN-13: 978-1981719907

ISBN-10: 1981719903

 

Photography Credits:

Copyright © 2017 ViknCharlie

 

Edited by:

Rita Delude

 

Under Copyright Law:  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise (except for brief quotation in printed or digital review) without prior written permission of the copyright owner.

NOTICE: This story is a work of fiction. All characters in this story are fictitious, unless otherwise stated in the ending credits. Any resemblance to an actual person is coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EXODUS

 

 

 

 

 

Gibberish

 

When I was eight, my sister taught me gibberish. It was a made-up language that most adults couldn’t decipher. When they tried to understand, they complained, saying it sounded like a bunch of nonsensical crap.

Perfect.

My sister said if ever I needed her and couldn’t talk in front of others, to use this dialect. She’d promised to take care of me—before it ever got bad again.

Knowing I had a chance at escape, I practiced every day until my throat was sore. We were so fluent, after a few years, that we could even speak using the little Spanish and French vocabulary we’d picked up living in South Florida.

But, we got sloppy, talking in front of the wrong persons, mocking their stupidity. It was exhilarating, no, empowering, to know we had a failsafe for those “moments”.

That is, until the day we realized who else knew gibberish…

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

It was never cold in South Florida.

Never.

So why, the day I decided to leave, did it have to be forty degrees?

I glanced down at my flip flops. They were from the discount store and were made of that cheap, pink rubber, but had the cutest Hawaiian flowers imprinted on the soles with white ink. When I got them wet, they squeaked and slid along slick floors since they lacked traction. I loved them usually, but today, they were the wrong choice. My toes felt like little blocks of ice used for beverages, the kind you make using those colorful trays from the freezer.

Cold toes were the least of my problems. I hugged myself, hoping to keep my bare arms warm. The wind blew, and my blonde hair stuck to my lipstick. I spit, blowing strands away the best I could. My legs trembled in my cut-offs, and I could see little bumps forming down my skin. Goosebumps, my sister used to call them.

In my trembling fingers, a bus ticket flapped, hitting my knuckles each time wind rushed through the station’s corridor. I glanced up, mostly to distract myself, but also because I could hear people and suitcases above me, crossing to the east side of the station for pick-up. My eyes stopped at the elevators. There was graffiti sprayed in high corners where workers couldn’t reach and since most of the symbols had been painted over, it was nearly impossible to figure out what was meant by the remaining markings.

I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until I rested on my bottom. I tucked in my knees and wrapped my arms around my legs. All I could think was. what in the world was I doing? There was no way I’d survive on my own. Sure, my best friend said I could sleep on her couch, but Jacksonville was in Northern Florida, and I lived in Deerfield Beach, in the heart of South Florida. If I thought it was cold here, it would feel like death there.

My phone vibrated inside my backpack, then obnoxious animal noises joined in, notifying me that my sister was calling. I reached into the front pocket, getting old bits of chocolate under my fingernails before finding the cheap phone. It was ancient, probably from before I was born, but my sister wanted to make sure she could reach me, so she paid for the service and phone.

“Hey, Linda,” I said, pressing it to my ear whiling holding it up with my frozen shoulder.

“My Sophie!”

Hearing my sister’s voice forced a smile into the corners of my mouth. Our parents named her Linda Sophia, and me, Sophia Linda. Most people thought it odd, but if you saw us, you’d think it perfect. We were exactly the same, but in opposite ways.

Linda was taller, modestly shaped, with dark hair and light blue eyes. I was shorter with fuller features, like big boobs and a perfectly round butt that I could put a can of beer on if you paid me enough, and of course, since she had dark hair and light eyes, I had blonde hair and brown eyes. We were both pale, but Linda could easily darken in the sun while I burned walking from the house to the car, that sat under a carport. She was the sweet, innocent one with the most wicked laugh I’d ever heard, and I unfortunately had been stripped of my innocence, all but my childlike giggle. People gave me things when I flashed my eyes and let out my trademark sound. I didn’t mind when strangers thought I was a child, especially if it meant discounted movie tickets or free stuff.

Too bad predators were drawn to my giggle like moths to a lamppost.

“Sophie?” Linda’s voice cracked. “Are you safe?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m at the bus station. I’ll be out of here in less than an hour.”

“Okay, good.”

“Why?”

“They called me, wondering where you were.”

My stomach tightened, and my heartbeat quickened. “What did you tell them, Linda?”

“Nothing, but you know I can’t lie. They asked me to find out where you were, and then report back.”

“I swear,” I said, clenching my fist. “Why can’t you just resist answering the phone when they call? That’s what normal people do.”

“Hey! Don’t get mad at me. You’ll be out of here before they ever figure it out.”

“I’m ten years younger than you. How is it, at eighteen, I’m the more realistic one? You have a career, and I’m trying to escape prison.”

“Is it really that bad?”

A million obscenities came to mind, and I’d have expressed them all, but something more important than educating my airhead of a sister, stopped me.

My eyes shifted, to the sound of rowdy teenagers on shoes with wheels. They rolled through the corridor, crashing into a bench.

“Sophie?”

I shoved my phone into the backpack. It had been, yet another gift from my sister. There was one thing about her, even though she was vapid, she did care.

“Sophie?”

I could still hear her through the zippered fabric. It made me want to fling the bag into the wall, but then I’d break the urn that was wrapped with a beach towel and carefully tucked into the large portion of the backpack.

“Don’t touch it, man!” One of the teenagers shouted, punching another in the arm. They were tall and lanky and wore beanie hats, tugged down almost covering their eyes. Two of the teenage boys stood over the bench, guarding something. My gut urged me to investigate, while my brain warned me of possible misfits coupled with the high rate of juvenile delinquent activity in the area.

“Let me put it out of its misery,” another said, ramming through the wall the two boys built.

“No! Get lost!”

Fists formed, and it was two against one. There was a whirlwind of bodies and punches, as they wrestled the one boy to the ground. He was pinned down on the cold cement by the two, while a fourth jumped over the bench and bloodied his nose.

“What kinda sick are you?” The fourth asked. He shook his head and walked back over to the bench, peering into a brown box.

“It’s okay, he won’t hurt you, I promise,” he cooed, sticking his hand inside to touch whatever it was that was in there.

“What’s going on?” I shouted over the sound of a bus parking a few feet away. “What’s in the box?”

“Kittens,” he said, smiling. “Want one?”

I glanced back at the parked bus, and then at my ticket. Mine wasn’t due for at least another twenty minutes. There was still time to figure out what to do with the kittens.

With one of their massive hands, each of the three boys picked up a baby, and held them up above their heads with grins on their faces.

I smiled back, rushing over to take one for myself. The remaining kitten was all black with a speck of white under her chin. She was cold, so I cradled her against my chest.

One of the boys motioned to the others. “Let’s go, before security kicks us out for schooling that punk.”

“I won’t rat you out,” I said, kissing my new friend on the head. She meowed, searching my tank top for milk. “Little Cleopatra. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go on the bus with a cat, now can I?”

Another bus pulled up. I knelt, and with one arm cradling Cleo, I used the other to unzip my bag. The urn had to be carried; there was no way around it. I pulled it out and used the towel to wrap the kitten. Then, I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and picked up my best friend’s ashes. We were going to see Jacksonville together, finally. I’d stay on her couch, thanks to her lease not being up just yet, and I’d eat nachos for two.

I rubbed a stray tear from my cheek just before handing my ticket to the bus driver.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, forcing a smile. I tapped my friend’s urn and his eyes widened.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” I said, climbing the steps.

Cleo began to make tiny noises, unhappy with the constant movement. I slid into a seat in the very back of the bus, right by the rest room. I cringed, thinking of what I had in store, if someone chose to use it before we arrived in Jacksonville.

I put my hand inside the bag and pet Cleo. “It’s okay, you just gotta be quiet for a few hours. We’ll be there soon, and at the first rest stop, I’ll find something for you to eat.”

More passengers entered, stowing their luggage beneath their seats. I avoided making eye contact with them, staring out the window. My hand pressed against the glass. Yes, I was going to Jacksonville to see my best friend’s apartment, sleep on her couch, and eat nachos.

I sighed, frowning. Too bad I hadn’t gone when she’d asked me to. Maybe, just maybe, she’d still be alive and not sitting in the seat next me inside an ugly porcelain pot, reminiscent of medieval cooking utensils.

“Sophia!” My backpack spoke to me.

“Linda?” I chuckled. “You’re still on the line?” My hand dug through the pocket until I found the phone. I put it to my ear. “I’d have hung up a long time ago.”

“No way,” she said. “Not until I know your bus is moving and there’s no way he can stop you from leaving.”

I frowned, slumping my shoulders in defeat. “Look, Lin, I love you, but you really need to let me save my battery in case I have an emergency.”

“Yes, you’re right. Please be careful and call me the second you get to Jacksonville. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and don’t post it on social media.”

“I’m eighteen, not ten. I swear I know better.”

“Yes, I know. You’re smart and a survivor, but I just worry, ya know?”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Okay, call me when you get to—”

I shoved the phone back into the front pocket of my bag. It wasn’t like I didn’t try to see Hannah; Dad decided to ground me the day of my first attempted trip. Well, his version of grounding, anyway…

I’d been in the backyard, feeding the hybrid wolves that my mother bred, when I heard the electric fence hum to life. Dad stood by the back door with his arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. He narrowed his eyes until they were tiny, hatred-filled slits.

My voice cracked when I began to question him. “Did you just turn on the electric fence?”

He remained still, almost statuesque. Several biker friends pulled into our yard. I could see them through the wired fence as they climbed off their cycles and headed towards the entrance.

“Dad? Seriously, what’d you turn the fence on for?”

He tugged on his gloves and pulled out a cigarette hidden in the crook of his left ear.

“You’re grounded,” he said, pressing the death stick to his lips. His hands covered his mouth as he lit the tip of the cigarette.

“Why?”

He didn’t respond, just entered the house, locking the door behind him.

My mouth had dropped open, wide for all the mosquitoes of South Florida to enter. My heart beat and adrenaline or maybe pure fear rushed through my veins.

Grounding in my household was worse than getting beaten. I raced after him, dropping the bag of dog food in the kennel. Wolves gathered around it, gobbling kibble without chewing.

I pounded my fists against the door. “Mom!” I screamed. “Mom! He’s locked me out again!”

Shadows danced along the edge of the floorboards. I could barely see them from outside, but fortunately, Dad never maintained things and due to rot, a small hole had formed in the corner of the door.

I rested my cheek against the wood. Tears streamed my cheeks. “Mom?” The word came out a whisper.

“Sorry, Sophia, but your father says I can’t open the door. He’ll divorce me if I do.”

“No,” I said. “He’s not going to divorce you for opening a door!”

“Y-Yes he will, honey. I’m sorry.”

I could hear my mother’s feet shuffle, and knew her fear was legitimate. Maybe he wouldn’t divorce her, but he’d make sure to spend the evening out with someone else.

That would teach my mom, wouldn’t it? Anger had raged inside me, just thinking of the time he’d asked me to sit outside at the park while a woman climbed into the back seat of our car with him to “talk”.

I walked down the stoop and sat on the second step. Two of the wolves crept over. One was all white with pale blue eyes and the other a mash of browns and blacks with hazel eyes, so beautiful, you’d think they were human. Tim and Tam, I’d named them. Tam, the white alpha, pressed her nose into my thigh, forcing my hand upon her head. She whimpered, crawling partially into my lap.

Tim lay on the other side, with his eyes set, on guard. Dad and his “friends” shouted, and I closed my eyes to the sound of revving engines. Their motorcycles roared to life, then screeched as they raced through the neighborhood.

“I really hope it doesn’t rain,” I said to Tam. She nuzzled even closer, putting her paw in my hand. “What would I do if I didn’t have you?”

She licked my leg in response, and I let the tears fall. They ran down my cheeks and dripped onto her fur. It didn’t seem to bother her, so I bent over and rubbed my face on her neck.

Tim stood, stretching. He motioned to the kennel, and we followed. I crawled into the largest, covered pen, and Tam did the same. She leaned her back against mine, and I fell asleep in the fetal position.

 

***

“Can I sit here?” someone asked.

I shook the memories from my mind and looked at the voice through wet eyes. It was an older woman, at least from what I could tell through blurred vision. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on my new bus mate.

She just shoved Hannah’s urn over into my seat and plopped down next to me. Her hair, at least what was left of it, was wrapped in a plastic, neon yellow, bandana. I could see wisps of gray peeking out from it and if it wasn’t from the umbrella she struggled to close, I’d have forgotten my manners and never said hello.

“This stupid piece of junk,” she said, attempting to force the umbrella closed. It popped right back out, smacking my bag. I edged it away from her, resting it against the window.

“Do you need some help?” I asked.

“Would you?” She turned, revealing plastic frames, wider than I’d ever seen. They were a coral color, and she wore some kind of contraption made of beads and seashells. It was connected to the ends of the earpieces and rested on the back of her neck. She noticed me gawking, and touched the sides of it.

“Like it?” She asked. I just stared. “Well, I made it. When I go shopping, I tend to sweat, waiting for the bus, especially now that I cannot drive myself.”

“What’s sweat have to do with that thing?” I asked, snapping her umbrella shut. She kicked it under the seat in front of her.

“I’m getting to it,” she said. “Name’s Wilhelmina, and thanks for the help.”

I shook her offered hand, forcing a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sophia.”

“What a beautiful name!”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Think? You should just know. Always take a compliment. Don’t downplay it, child. It shows insecurities.”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, I suppose not, bringing a stowaway aboard the bus, hmm?” She pointed at my bag. “I could hear the kitty before I even entered. You need to feed him.”

“Her,” I said, correcting the lady.

“Excuse me. Her.” She dropped her head and pulled up her knitted, sweater shirt. “Let me see what I have in my ‘miracle carry on’.”  She had a purse wrapped around her waist. What in the world type of woman was this? She unzipped the thing and pulled out a pouch of tuna. It had crackers and a tiny, plastic knife.

“This was going to be my snack, but someone else seems to need it more than I do. If I don’t share, someone might complain, and you know what’ll happen then.”

I nodded, pulling back the top of my bag, so she could see Cleo. The woman grinned, exposing her gums.

“Look what I have for you,” she said, tearing the tuna pouch. “Come to Momma, sweetheart.”

She reached in and picked Cleo up in her trembling hand.

“Please pardon my shakiness. I’m in the first stages of Parkinson’s.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. My kids have this wonderful plan for me.” She put a little of the tuna on her finger and let the kitten lick it off.

“You like that, don’t you?” She gave her more, then continued talking. “Have you ever heard of Escape, Colorado?”

I shook my head.

“Well,” she said. “That’s where they’re going to put me, in a few months. The town has a nursing home going in and it’s supposedly set-up resort style.”

“Really?”

She winked. “According to the brochure.”

“Do they live close-by? How did they hear about this place?”

She sighed, returning Cleo, who now purred furiously. “Nope. They live in Saint Augustine, where I’m headed. Clever kids, huh? At the first sign of weakness, they just ship their mother away, someplace too far for them to visit, promising it’s different from the nursing homes here.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s alright.” She touched the chains attached to her glasses again. “And, when I sweat, my glasses slip right off my nose, so I made jewelry for my glasses.”

“That’s neat.”

“You think it’s dumb, I can tell.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t wear that, but it looks good on you.”

Wilhelmina pointed to the urn, changing the subject. “Now that you know my life story, it’s your turn to spill. Who do you have in that pot?”

“It was an accident,” I said. “I should’ve gone with Hannah the second time she asked me to visit her. She was so excited to start her second term at college, but Dad’s money came up missing.”

“Did someone steal it?”

I shrugged, glancing out the window. The bus pulled away, entering the main streets. “I doubt it, but do you know what’s worse than getting grounded in my household?”

“What, child?”

“Being the one he thinks took something of his.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know,” I said, getting lost in thought.

 

***

A few weeks ago, the phone rang in the kitchen. It was Phil. He’d been friends, first with my sister, and was ten years older, but still, he became my friend. He visited his grandparents often, and since they lived down the street, he popped in and out of my life, checking on me. We’d go out to the graveyards and read old tombstones, or hit a movie, then he’d get back on the road. I’d see him maybe three times a year, sometimes more.

Phil was a truck driver and had the coolest stories. Some were a little scary, like how women would knock on his truck in the middle of the night offering “services”.

“Hey, Sophie,” Phil said. His voice came in deep from the other line. “You’re one of the few people I know who still have a landline. I remember the number from when I used to call your sister to play as kids.”

“Your grandmother has a landline,” I said, holding back a smirk. “Her neighbors do, too.”

“You love to contradict me.” His voice trailed, as if something else caught his attention. “How’re things? Are you going to be around later?”

My face lit up. “Does this mean you’re almost here?”

“I’m outside, sitting in my truck, waiting for you.”

I squealed, placing the receiver on its hook. “Yes!” I danced around the kitchen, stepping over a newspaper that covered a pile of dog pooh. My mother thought this would hide it until she felt well enough to clean it.

She was in the medicine cabinet. I could hear the pill bottles clacking as she took them from the shelf in her bathroom. Which would she overtake today?

It didn’t matter. Phil was outside, and he’d take me away for a while.”

I grabbed the phone and dialed his cell.

“You ready?” He asked, answering the call.

“Nope, but I was wondering if you’d take me to Jacksonville to see Hannah.”

“It’s on my route to Alabama. You’d have to stay until I came back. Maybe two or three weeks. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes!” I stood on my tip-toes and strained to see out the front window. My dad’s car had pulled into the driveway. “I’ve gotta go and get ready. My dad just got home.”

“I see him. Hurry.”

“Will do, thanks, Phil.”

I let the phone drop, forgetting to return it to its place. It dangled from the cord, slowly spinning in circles. A faint, dial-tone sound filtered through the empty kitchen. It didn’t bother me. I skipped towards the hall, to get my things. I never made it to my room, though.

Dad trudged to the front door, his hands black with oil. He had a cigarette between his lips, and he whistled, motioning for me to help him bring in the giant, commercial roll of toilet paper he’d stolen from work.

“Hi Dad,” I said.

“Give it back,” he demanded, narrowing his eyes at me.

I recoiled, turning my head to the side, too afraid to catch his eye. “What are you talking about?”

“My money.”

“I don’t have any. You know that.”

“That’s why you took mine.” He stepped closer, straightening his chest so that is was firm and solid. He bumped me with it and his foul, tar breath, gagged me. His grimy finger poked my shoulder with such force, and I winced from the jolt of pain. “Give it back or face the consequences.”

I trembled, and tears brimmed in my eyes. “What are you talking about? I didn’t take your money.”

Dad grabbed me by the neck and slammed me into the wall. I gagged, desperately trying to pry his fingers away.

My mother came out of the bathroom holding a yellow bottle. It jingled as pills clanked against the sides. She gasped, dropping it on the floor.

“What are you doing?” She exclaimed, her hands covering her mouth.

Dad answered, “Sophie stole my five bucks. I went to get a coffee and my wallet was empty.”

Mom hurried back into her room. It figured she’d leave me, and let Dad strangle me. Hadn’t she said she’d only wanted one child, that I’d been a mistake?

“You dropped the cash this morning!” Mom rushed out of the room, waving a five-dollar bill. “See, honey, she didn’t take it.”

Dad released me, and I slid down the wall, gasping as air filled my lungs. He stomped down the hall and unlocked his safe.

“No, no, no!” I stammered, attempting to stand. My legs trembled so much that I couldn’t steady myself. “No, Dad, no!”

He appeared from the shadows, his arm raising slowly. All I could see was the barrel of his gun. He pointed it at my head, and took heavy steps towards me.

I stiffened, clutching the wall behind me. He pressed the revolver against the skin of my forehead. The metal was cold, and chills ran along my spine.

“If you ever take my money again, I’ll kill you.”

 

***

“He did not do that to you,” Wilhelmina said. She shook her head while I struggled to remember that I was on a bus, heading far away to Jacksonville.

I wasn’t under my father’s control anymore. I’d left. Yes, I was free.

Wilhelmina leaned forward, her old eyes studying me. “Child,” she said softly. “Do you know where you’re going?”

Glancing out the window, I blinked, watching the bus turn a corner. It was pouring outside, and the rain fell in sheets, turning my view opaque. I whispered my next words, so softly they were barely audible.

“He poisoned my wolves, did I tell you that?”

She gasped, and her glasses slipped down her nose. After pushing them back into their rightful position, she touched my arm.

“He’s a monster. Don’t ever go back there.”

“I don’t plan to, believe me.”

“Why’d he do such a horrid thing?”

“After he removed his gun from my forehead, I ran into the backyard, and when I did this, Tam and Tim, attacked Dad when they caught sight of him chasing me. I hid in the kennel with the other wolves while Tam held him on the ground by the throat. My mom had to come and pry her off.”

“They were protecting you.”

“Yes.” I nodded, taking a picture of them out of my bag. “That’s Tam, the white one, and Tim is the splotchy, colored one.”

“They’re gorgeous.”

“Yes, they really were.” I shoved the photo back into the pocket and wiped snot from my nose. “When Dad finally got away, he locked me out in the backyard with the wolves, even turning the electric fence on so I couldn’t leave.”

“How long did he leave you out there?”

“Just ‘til morning. My mom let me in ‘accidentally’ when she came out to feed the wolves their breakfast.”

“Who has so many expensive pets, then kills them?”

I laughed, but not because I thought her comment was funny.

“Anyway, my friend Phil, he’s a truck driver and said that he’d meet me in Jacksonville to spread Hannah’s ashes.”

Wilhelmina glanced at the urn. “I’m still waiting to hear what happened to your friend.”

“She never should’ve died,” I said, placing my hand on top of the urn. “Hannah was going to be a teacher. She was only eighteen.”

“Yes, a baby, just like you.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

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Hannah was coming home on the bus, to visit during summer break. I couldn’t wait to see her. I’d tried twice, but it never seemed to work out.

We were going to movie hop all day and eat buckets of popcorn, smothered in butter and flavored seasonings. It was a tradition that we took very seriously, and it was long overdue.

She came, wearing black tights that ended mid-calf, and her eyes were plastered in glittery eyeshadows.

Dad loved Hannah’s mother. He’d let me go anywhere I wanted if her mom came by and asked. Since she asked, Hannah and I got permission to hang out all day.

We sat on a cement pony wall at the mall’s entrance, eating the last bits of our first tub of popcorn. Our fingers were greasy, and our shirts stained from the butter. Hannah asked for a movie watching break. Her head was pounding, she’d said. So, we sat outside the mall and tossed kernels at passersby, letting my “giggle” save us from anyone that caught us.

Hannah’s red hair frizzed from the humidity, but she didn’t seem concerned. It stuck straight up in several places, and she ignored it. “Why…” she began, then quickly changed her mind. “No, forget it.”

“What? You can’t start a sentence like that and not finish it,” I complained, snatching the bucket of kernels. “See if I give you any more.”

She held back a smile, waiting until I realized there wasn’t any popcorn left.

“Just say whatever you were gonna say,” I said, disgusted that she’d duped me.

“You’re eighteen. Why do you have to ask your father for permission, just to go to the mall? That’s crazy, and you need to get away. You’re one of the smartest people I know, yet you haven’t applied to any colleges yet. What are you waiting for?”

“Hannah,” I said, turning so that I could face her. “I can’t leave my mom. She’d go nuts, especially since my sister ditched us the second she saw her chance at freedom.”

“Stay with Linda!” Hannah suggested. “She’d take you in, wouldn’t she?”

I shook my head. “She rents a room from someone and Dad won’t even let me talk to her without him in the room anymore.”

“Why not?”

“We were talking about him in our secret language.”

“That gibberish garbage?”

“Yeah, in that.”

“So?”

I couldn’t swallow. The words didn’t want to come out. Hannah waved her hand in front of my face. “What’s the big deal? He can’t understand you, can he?”

I nodded, unable to respond with words.

“Oh, crap.”

“Oh, crap, is right.”

Hannah tried to jump off the short wall. It was only about two to three feet high, but she couldn’t find her footing.

“Hannah?” My eyes widened, as she fell to the ground, like a lump of cornstarch mixed with water. “Are you okay?”

“I dunno, I—”

“It’s okay,” I said, shushing her. “Don’t move. I’ll get help.”

“Use my phone; call my mom and your sister.”

I did just what she asked of me, then I called the emergency services. By the time they arrived, Hannah’s mom had made it back to the mall. I watched her climb into the back of the ambulance with Hannah.

I jerked at the sound of the ambulance doors slamming shut. My eyes closed, burning in the corners.

Linda, in her old Mitsubishi, pulled up to the main entrance and opened her car door. She stood, since her windows didn’t roll down, and screamed my name. I sank, hoping to disappear. She’d always done that when I was child, mortifying me with her loud, obnoxious shout. Had she stayed at home, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten into so much trouble. With her around, it was impossible to sneak. She was like glue attached to paper.

I hated it.

But not today. Linda’s excessive worrying was just want I needed. I stood, waving in her direction. She let out a sigh, appearing relieved to find me so quickly. “Hurry,” she said. “We need to get to the hospital to see Hannah.”

She ran to me, stopping abruptly. It was as if she wanted to pick me up in her arms and twirl me about, but my sister never did it. I knew she loved me, yet it seemed, somehow, she couldn’t express it.

She stammered, motioning for me to follow her to the car. “I’ve got you a cell phone. It’s an old one that Dad can’t get a hold of and track, but just in case, keep it hidden. Don’t tell him you have it.” Linda tossed me the little phone. “There’s service and everything, but it’s too old for an internet browsing connection, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, trying my best to hold back a smile. “I’ve got a phone.”

She laughed, and I followed suit.

Linda drove us to the hospital, and after waiting for what seemed like forever, they allowed me entrance into the emergency wing.

Hannah lay on a hospital bed, in one of those thin gowns. She had a tray with a carton of milk. I stood in the doorway, frozen

Did I do something to put her there? Was this my fault?

“Sophie?” Hannah spoke weakly. “Is that you? I can’t really tell. They took my contacts out and everything’s blurry.”

“You’ve always been blind,” I said, resting my shoulder on the doorframe.

She nearly choked on her next words.

“Not for long,” she whispered, glancing away.

I stepped inside, taking a seat beside her.

“Did you break your leg jumping off that wall?”

“No, Soph, they did blood work, and I’ve got Leukemia.”

“What?” Tears filled my eyes, and when they could no longer be contained, they spilled down my cheeks, and ran along the side of my neck, disappearing into the seam of my shirt. “No. No, it’s got to be a mistake.” I looked at the monitors, searching for the call button.

“What are you doing, Soph?”

I grabbed the remote and pressed the call button. “We need the nurse to come in here so that you can retake the tests.”

Hannah snatched the remote from me. “No.” Her lips trembled as she forced herself to stay calm, unaffected. “It’s in seventy-five percent of my body. It’s over, Soph.”

I shook my head, shaking fiercely.

“No. How-How could you not know that you were this sick?”

“I’ve been tired and sleeping a lot. I even flunked my last two classes. My mom thought it was burnout from studying too much. The pressure to succeed, it’s rough. I-I thought I was just stressed and needed a breather.”

“This isn’t fair!”

I stood, pacing before Hannah’s bed. Her mom entered with two cups of coffee, one for me and one for her. She knew I’d never leave, just as she wouldn’t.

“What are we going to do, Hannah?”

“You,” Hannah pointed in my direction with squinty eyes, “you’re going to live. I want you to get out of here. Promise me, Soph.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

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The bus stopped for the twelfth-hundredth time. My stomach growled, starved, but I was completely broke. Why’d I go on this horrible adventure without a single thought or preparation? I glanced at my flip flops. There was this one moment that I couldn’t erase from my memory.

Phil and I went to the convenience store together to get flowers for Hannah’s mom. She’d been through a lot, and I just wanted to make sure she knew we cared and understood how awful she must feel, losing her child.

But, something inside of me changed, within a blink of an eye. It was as if, I’d become just as awful as my father. Was I becoming callous and concerned for only myself, my loss?

Phil told me it was grief that made me do it, but I really think it was anger and resentment.

In my flip flops, and cut offs, I entered the house, with my flowers. It’s where they decided to host the wake for Hannah. There were old classmates sitting on the sofa, sobbing, telling stories of their “dear friend.”

My face burned, turning red. In all those months she was sick, none of them made it to the hospital—just me and Phil.

What angered me most, was Hannah’s mom. She nodded her head, allowing those false friends to comfort her. She sat in between them, hugged them, and sounded grateful for their flowers, dismissing mine.

Hannah’s mom handed me about four bouquets when I went to hug her.

“Sophia, please put these on the table and go help with the hors d'oeuvre.”

I gritted my teeth, watching her console a cheerleader who maybe spoke two words to Hannah.  

Why was she concerned with that girl? What about me? Didn’t I need to cry, too? Why was I sent into the freaking kitchen?

I didn’t have much time to pout, serving those thoughtless morons appetizers. My wardrobe didn’t help matters, either. I had worn a dress shirt over my tank, but the ovens were hot, and I removed it like a fool, to serve the idiots in the living room. My skin was covered in droplets of sweat and my old class, mostly home from college, turned their noses up when they saw me. They felt better than the loser who still lived at home with zero aspirations.

I’d been at the top of my class, but Dad wouldn’t allow me to go to college. Well, he would’ve agreed, but I’d have to choose to lose something else.

There was always a price to pay.

Always.

“Sophie?” Linda said, touching my shoulder. “You look sad.”

“Duh, Lin. I’m at a funeral.”

“Stop being mean.”

“Oh, grow up.” I snapped, shoving a silver plate of stuffed peppers at her. “Just do what you do best, serve.”

Linda gasped. She stood with slumped shoulders in the center of the kitchen.

“That’s mean,” she said.

A twinge of guilt crept inside my heart, but I quickly forced it back into the darkest place within me, right where it belonged. My sister needed to wake up and realize that life was not as happy as she painted it. Her worry over me needed to be pointed in a new direction—herself. She lived a fantasy and expected everyone who crossed paths with her to play along, too.

When you’re a kid, it’s fun and quite the journey. I loved escaping my life with her, but reality took a sledgehammer and bashed my dreams right out of me. She reminded me of what I’d lost, and I resented her for it.

She still lived, hoped, dreamed.

Not me.

I’d never get out. Our parents wanted one child, and I was the accident. It was my duty to obey and not be any more of a burden to them than I already was.

It was in this moment, while I pouted, complaining about my lot in life, that I spotted it.

It called to me.

When I saw Hannah’s urn, sitting on her mom’s mantle, I just had to take my best friend’s ashes—and take her back to where she belonged. Hannah needed to be at school so that one day she could teach others. Her life should never have ended.

Why shouldn’t it be me to bring her home? I was the one who went to see her every day, despite my father’s protests.

Next to her urn, was a line of books. They’d been with her in the hospital room. When I visited her, she’d pick out a book for me to read. Sometimes, I’d have to stop because the storyline became sad, but there were study aides on hand for those moments.

No one else did this.

Well, Phil would come by and say hello while he was in town. He’d sit in the chair across from me with his baseball cap covering his eyes and snore. Hannah grumbled each time, pointing at him.

“Am I really that dull?” She’d said, rolling her eyes. “He sounds like a lawn mower.”

We’d giggle and mimic him, then gossip about everyone. It was in those moments that I felt the greatest pain, knowing our time was almost gone. I’d glance at her pale skin and sunken eyes and frown. Her lips were chapped, dehydrated from the morphine pumped into her veins. My dearest friend was fading away right before my eyes.

That’s why I had to take her urn. I’d earned the right to be the one who made sure Hannah was where she wanted to be. As I walked over to the mantle, I could hear her begging me to live.

“Please, live your life, Soph. Get out of here!”

She hated Deerfield, and I had to honor her last request.

I looked down at the urn in the seat next to me, then at Wilhelmina. Her head was leaning all the way back, and she breathed deeply. I watched her hands tremble. We’d just met, but sadness overshadowed me when I thought of her, too. Soon, she’d collect her things, and leave me, just like Hannah.

 

***

“Well, I’m afraid this is my stop. You’re almost to where you wanted to go.” Wilhelmina grunted, struggling to grab her umbrella. I reached down and gave it to her.

“Thanks, child.”

“I’m not a kid,” I said one last time. Only, it was more of a goodbye than anything.

She brushed her wrinkled hand through my hair. “I know.”

“Are you really going to let your kids put you in that faraway nursing home?”

She smiled, exposing her gums one last time. “The town is called Escape. I’d like to escape, wouldn’t you?”

I thought on her words for a moment then nodded. “Heck, yeah.”

“Here’s the last two crackers I have from the tuna pouch. I’m happy the kitty is sleeping soundly. She’ll poop soon, but hopefully not while you’re still on the bus.”

I laughed, seeing excitement in the old woman’s eyes. It was then that she spoke the oddest words.

“Come find me, once you’ve found yourself.”

As Wilhelmina disappeared down the aisle and off the bus, I inhaled the two crackers she left with me.

My phone’s battery had died, and the very thought of my sister annoyed me. Why didn’t she hang up like a normal person? Now, when Phil tried to call me, he’d get voicemail. What if he left, thinking I’d changed my mind?

Phil promised to take me anywhere I wished to go. Once, when I was a kid, my sister took me to a horse farm. There were chickens, a pig, and a barn full of horses and ponies. I went on a trail ride and had the best day. If I could spend my days caring for animals, that would be amazing.

Even though I hated living with my parents, they had one thing none of my friends had—a zoo.

Not a real zoo, but it might as well have been. There were lizards, cats, dogs, and once a sugar glider. Did you ever walk a carnivorous monitor down the street? It was like having a dinosaur at the end of a leash. My wolves were the best. Mom bred them for extra income, but Tim and Tam; they were mine.

I wiped a tear from my eye, thinking back to when Dad poisoned them.

He’d pointed a gun at my forehead, accusing me of stealing five dollars from him. Even when Mom told him it wasn’t my fault, he wouldn’t let it go. I ran to the backdoor, rushing to hide with the wolves.

I’d been the reason they died. Tim and Tam protected me from Dad, and he poisoned their food. I came home to my mother holding Tam’s limp body. She’d buried her face in her fur and sobbed.

The light in the ceiling flashed, alerting every one of the next stop.

“Jacksonville, Florida,” an electronic-sounding voice said.

I’d made it to Jacksonville! This was where I thought my journey would end. I’d stay in Hannah’s apartment until the lease ran out. Who cared about utilities; I’d make due. Heck, I’d slept outside with animals many times. What was the difference if I had electric? Then, maybe I’d go on a journey with Phil, and end up in the first place that called to me.

That was the plan.

Instead, as the bus stopped and opened its doors, I hesitated. I glanced at Hannah and sighed. Her urn felt heavier after sitting for so many hours on the bus, but the trek to her house would show me just how weighty her remnants could become.

When I exited the bus, I looked around. Even though I was still in Florida, it felt like another world. They had a fruit stand joined to the small bus stop. There wasn’t anyone to take or give you tickets, just an electronic hub where you had to insert coins or bills.

A horrid thought came to me. What if Hannah’s mom had a different plan for her daughter’s ashes? Would her heart be broken if I chose where to spread them, especially without her consent?

Mom used to say, “No sense crying over spoiled milk.”. I never really comprehended that until now. I’d stolen my friend from her mother. Hannah liked her mom. Who did I think I was?

I walked along the road, readjusting the urn from arm to arm as I tired. The map I saw in the gas station seemed to point two miles up on the east side.

“We’re almost home, Hannah. I’ll make a fire in your backyard and pop us some popcorn because I know you’ll have it in the cupboard, and we’ll stare at the TV, pretending the power is on. We should watch the classics first, and in the morning, all of our favorite childhood cartoons.”

Hannah did not reply. My fingers trembled, maybe worse than poor Wilhelmina’s. She had Parkinson’s. What was my excuse?

“I-I miss you, Hannah.”

She still did not reply. My face flushed and I quickened my pace, nearing her apartment.

It wasn’t as I’d imagined it to be. There were rows and rows of buildings, three and four stories high. College kids leaned on cars that their parents had clearly bought for them. Some held brown paper bagged beverages or rested a cigarette against their lips.

Hannah’s apartment was on the fourth floor. I had to go through the front door of what looked to be a common area living room. At least five or six guys with two or three girls huddled together on a dirty, cloth sofa. They fought over controllers.

A whiny girl with stringy black hair, shoved a guy who clearly used to play on the football team. Maybe he still did.

“It’s my turn!” she said.

The guy resisted, pausing the game. “I haven’t lost yet, chill out!”

Someone noticed me standing in the entrance. “Yeah?”

“I’m here with Hannah,” I said, pointing to the urn. Silence filled the room.

“We thought—”

“Well,” the whiny girl said, “we’ve rented her room out. Her mom said she’d—well, ya know.”

The footballer jumped over the couch, and rushed to my side. “Come in. Let me help you with your stuff.” He tried to take Hannah, but I jerked her back.

“Woah, sorry,” he said.

“I need to charge my phone and I have a kitten. Can she have some water?”

The girls squealed, kidnapping my Cleo. They encircled her, cooing and awing.

Someone shouted, “I’ve got two extra disposable cat liners. She could use that, and I’ll put some kitty litter in a Ziploc bag for you.”

“Thank you.” I sniffled, following the footballer into the kitchen area. It was small with just a heating element, microwave, and half-size fridge. They had a sink, but it was smaller than something you’d find in a bathroom.

“We’ve got a charging station,” footballer said. When he smiled, I could see his shiny, white teeth.

“Do you have any food?”

He leaned close, whispering so the others couldn’t hear. “Eat anything you can find that doesn’t have someone’s initials on it, but hide it if you see someone walk by.”

“O-Okay.”

In the little fridge someone had a half-eaten sub. I pulled meat and veggies from the center and swallowed it whole, then cupped my hand under the spout, so that I could drink the faucet water. It tasted funny, but my body didn’t care. I couldn’t stop drinking. When was the last time I’d taken a sip of water?

After a few hours, people slowly snuck into their rooms. I sat in the kitchen, hoping they’d forgotten I existed. The lights went out, but footballer sat on the couch with the whiner. Their demeanor changed, now alone from the eyes of others. I could hear her giggle and him whisper.

I smiled, thinking of Phil. I loved when he told me secrets. His breath was always warm and smelled of peppermints.

My phone light turned green. It was fully charged. I took it off the charging station and dialed Phil’s number. He answered before it even rang.

“Where have you been?” He asked, his voice stern. Had he been worried about me?

“My phone died.”

“Where are you?”

“At Hannah’s place, but her room is already rented out.”

“There’s a truck stop at the end of the street. It links to the highway. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Go there and wait for me.”

“Can’t you pick me up at Hannah’s?”

“My truck is too big.”

“I saw the place on my way here, and it’s almost two miles away.”

“I thought you wanted a ride?”

“I do, I’m just tired and I’ve got a cat with me.”

“A what?”

“Yeah, well, a kitten. This boy was trying to kill her at the bus station.”

“Trucker life isn’t really something that cat is going to like.”

“It’s just temporary.”

Phil sighed. “Meet me in thirty.”

I closed the phone and tucked it into my bag. Someone had put a cardboard cat box liner and bag of litter next to my stuff. They also had bought me a collar for Cleo. It was pink with tiny faux diamonds. She wore it on her neck as she slept, curled in the cutest position. Sticking out of my front pocket was a bag of beef jerky and a can of cat food.

Tears ran my cheeks. Maybe I should’ve come to college with Hannah. I glanced at her urn. What was I going to do with her now?

“Sorry I didn’t visit you when you asked.” I told Hannah. “Now, there’s someone in your room, so I don’t even get to see how you had it decorated. I bet there were loads of pics of just us on the walls and posters of retro movies.”

My phone vibrated. It was my sister. I rolled my eyes, silencing it. “I’m sorry for being a jerk to Linda, but I’ve got to tell your mom where you are.” I told Hannah. “She’s probably worried sick.”

After calling her mom, and apologizing until I was blue in the face, I gathered my things and walked to the truck stop. She’d asked me to leave Hannah with the main office at the apartment complex. She was friends with the manager.

“I’m furious with you Sophie,” she’d said. “But, I know you did it because you loved her.”

“I miss her so much,” I cried. “I’m sorry, really I am.”

“I know, me too.”

 

***

I spotted Phil’s semi parked outside the truck stop. I’d never been happier to see another person. Whenever I wished to escape, he was ready and willing to take me away.

Phil’s door opened, and he hopped out. He was average height with a short shaven scalp. Facial hair had begun to grow, and I loved his cowboy buckle. He’d won it last year when he took me to this tiny, local fair.

He walked towards me with a gleam in his soft brown eyes. “Is that my Soph?”

“Phil!” I smiled as his arm wrapped around my waist. “I called Hannah’s mom and she asked me to leave the urn in the office.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m glad you decided to let Hannah’s mom choose where to rest her daughter’s ashes,” Phil admitted. “It’s not your place, even if she was your best friend.”

I sobbed, dropping to my knees. “She told me ‘to live’, Phil.”

He hovered over me, his hands gently caressed my shoulders; while kissing my cheek. He gave soft pecks along my ear, whispering. “Let’s go ‘live’, then.”

Phil helped me stand, and then guided me to his truck. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you pick?”

Imagines of a little old lady with a neon yellow handkerchief came to mind. I climbed into the passenger seat, placing Cleopatra on the floor. She crept slowly, frightened of her new surroundings. I put her disposable cat box below my feet and thought of Wilhelmina’s umbrella constantly popping open during our road trip.

“Well?” he said again.

I smiled, staring out the window. I waited until he sat and started the engine. As the vehicle revved to life, I spoke loudly. “Ever heard of Escape, Colorado?”

 

The End…for now.

 

Please read below for a few excerpts, including an excerpt from Book Ten in the Escape from Reality Series:

 

Kaleidoscope by Rita Delude

 

About the Author

Voted "New and Noteworthy" by USA Book News, Christina Leigh Pritchard was born and raised in South Florida where she's penned over fifty stories.

She's recently signed with Limitless Publishing for her ALMOST Series, takes on contract work, and continues writing her books.

Her style is any genre, as long as it's character driven where both hero and villain are not clearly defined. Pritchard says that she wants "...her characters to linger in a reader's mind, rather than be easily forgotten". She loves to create new worlds and prefers to venture outside the box.

With a short attention span, she writes stories that move quickly, absorb their reader into her world, and usually receives comments that the story was too short.

Visit her website (subscribe to read stories first! Become a Beta Reader!)

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For a preview of book ten in the Escape from Reality Series, read chapter one of Rita Delude’s Kaleidoscope here.

 

Summary: Kaleidoscope is a true love story, set in glorious Escape, Colorado. Kaleidoscopes are made of many faceted pieces of broken glass. Alice is broken like that glass, and Travis did the shattering. She runs to Escape, Colorado for its healing vibes, the love of her aunts, and a new beginning. She invests everything she has left—time, money, sweat and tears into her new venture.

This time, she’s not counting on a man. This time, Alice picks up her own pieces and becomes the maker of her own dreams. With her determination all things are possible. But to make her journey sweeter, perhaps she will find a lover who shares and supports her dreams. Perhaps in this love story, her dreams will come true in glorious patterns and colors in the mountains and valleys of Escape.

 

Chapter One

 

As I step into Travis’ campus office and lock the door as I always do, I lean over him where he’s sitting at his desk and give him a kiss since no one is around. Instead of returning my touch to his lips, he moves his head away. What’s up with that?

“Alice, take a seat,” he says looking and sounding very much like the professor and department chair he is. Not like my lover.

“What’s with you?” I ask as I slide into the seat across from his desk and wait for an answer.

He takes so long to respond that I look around. He’s surrounded by stacks of books overflowing the full wall of bookshelves, and there are piles placed randomly on the floor. On the far side of the room are a weaving loom, an antique Singer peddle sewing machine, and a myriad of clear boxes full of various fabric samples.

I’ve spent hundreds of hours in this space in the past three years, but have never felt the unease I’m experiencing now. I squirm in my seat.

I turn to stare at him. His dark hair, I notice, is graying just a speck at the temples. Distinguished. His green eyes are so brilliant and accented by thin, smile lines. He’s wearing a heavily starched pinstriped shirt that he’s rolled up to the elbows. After almost three years of being his student, his graduate assistant, his lover, and his confidante, he still makes my heart leap when I see him.

But, I’m still waiting. He’s leaning back in his huge desk chair with his arms behind his head, smiling at me. After his reaction when I tried to kiss him, I see nothing to smile about.

It’s been only a day since graduation. Aunt Lottie and Aunt Ellie have returned home after attending my commencement from the Rhode Island School of Design. Professor Millerton—Travis—asked me to meet him here today. I’m eager to hear what he has to say.

As Textile and Design Chairman, will he offer me an associate professorship? He knows I’m talented. He’s led me through the program as my mentor, and more, all these years. I earned my MFA in Textile Design. Better yet, will he offer me a ring? Ask me to be his wife? Tell me their divorce is final, and he wants only me? Maybe both?

I wait, breathless.

“Alice, first I want to say it has been a pleasure getting to know you. You are talented, hard-working, and so fabulous to be around,” he says as he leans his elbows on his desk and draws me into him with his determined stare.

Why am I feeling there’s a “but”

coming?

“But, here’s where we must part

ways,” he says.

His words are delivered so softly and

suddenly that I’m not sure I heard him

correctly. Part ways. Did he just say “part ways”?

I explode from my chair. I hustle to his side of the desk. I slap him squarely on the face so hard his nose bleeds.

“What the hell, Travis, I thought you brought me here to offer me a position or a ring or both. Part ways? Are you freaking kidding me?”

My entire body is vibrating as I watch him take his sweet time to pull one of his signature cloth handkerchiefs, the kind my dad always used, and to wipe the blood from his nose. He folds it. Dabs at his nose, again, and checks to see if the bleeding has stopped. It has.

“Now, hold on Alice. I never promised you a position. There aren’t any openings at this time, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Keep me in mind? Like you kept me in mind and in your arms every Monday night while your wife played bridge with the ladies? Like you kept me in mind at all those conferences we attended together, sharing the same hotel room? Are you kidding me? This is not a job interview with a stranger. This is us. You and me,” I say as I point to him and then myself.

He stands and tries to pull me into his arms, but I flick his advance away by slipping my arms through his outstretched ones and pushing his from me. Perhaps my self-defense classes have paid off.

“Alice, I’ve tried. Gloria won’t give me a divorce. She says she’ll take the kids, and I’ll never see them. You know how much they mean to me,” he pleads as he drops back into his leather chair.

“You have promised me for three years. Three long years, that you and Gloria were separated, were working on mediation of a divorce to make it amicable for the sake of the kids. You said that by the time I was finished here,” I wave my arms to take in the whole room, “you and I could be married. You played me.”

I stamp my feet, pick up a paper

weight from his desk that’s made of old-

fashioned mill factory bobbins and throw it across the room. It smashes into my target, a photo of him with his wife and two kids, and it falls in pieces to the floor.”

I’ve been such a fool. Freshman year I heard rumors about Professor Millerton having “special students,” but believed what I wanted to, that “special” meant talented. Not this.

He grabs at my arms, slides his hands down them and holds on. My hands are in fists, so I don’t respond to his touch. Normally, a touch from him lights up my universe sending tingles everywhere I have skin. Not today.

“Hold on, Alice, don’t make a scene. I picked my office as our place to meet because I know how much you respect the university and wouldn’t want any of this to get out.”

I jerk myself away from his grasp. I want to destroy everything in this place. I want the mementos of his past ruined as he is now ruining mine. I want to call his wife and tell her what a lying, cheating, fake her husband is. I want to storm into the university president’s office and report him for sexual harassment and abuse. I want to die.

Instead, shoulders slumped, tears streaming down my cheeks, I leave his office and know I’ll never return.

As I open the large mahogany door, I nearly collide with a small, blonde student who’s about to knock on Travis’ door. She’s grinning, bouncing on her tip toes. I want to warn her, to tell her not to enter this lion’s den.

But, instead, I return to my apartment, which is jam packed with boxes waiting to be delivered somewhere. My dad’s house? A new apartment when I find a job? I don’t even know or care.

Wrapping myself under a quilt I made first semester, I cry into my pillow until I’ve faded off to sleep. When I wake, I pull out my journal and write:

Trust no man.

~~~

 

To like, follow, or learn more about Rita Delude, and her other works, check out these links:

 

Facebook: ritadeludeauthor

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Kaleidoscope releases February 15, 2018! Would you like to learn more? Please follow the below link.

 

Kaleidoscope by Rita Delude:

 

 

 

Excerpt from Christina Leigh Pritchard’s upcoming novel Heather’s Turn… available 2/10/18:

 

ALICE

-1989-

 

Alice Collins’ blond hair bounced against her back and her feet pounded the orange dirt beneath her. She ran past the port-o-potties, through the stables, and then stopped abruptly in front of the Ferris wheel.

She took several deep breaths. There he was, in his faded saggy jeans and white tank top. He was surrounded by his friends. She could’ve sworn they were in the makings of becoming a gang. They called themselves the Bones and even gave Harlem the nickname Talon. Harlem had promised her he’d never join. She smiled. His dark skin sent shivers down her spine. She watched him hand tickets to his friends. If her father, Earl Collins, knew that Harlem didn’t rip every third ticket so that he could give them away to his boys—well, Harlem would be fired. It didn’t matter to Alice. Earl made enough money and was stingy when it came to giving it to those who needed it. Harlem would never do that; he’d take care of the Carnies. That’s what he always told her.

She sighed, caressing her belly softly. Would he still love me if I told him? She wiped the tears that leaked from her eyes with the inside of her shirt. I must tell him. She waited in the distance until his friends dispersed.

Alice watched Harlem grin and shove something into his pocket. She took each wooden step towards him slowly.

“Hi Talon.” She forced a smile.

Harlem pulled her close, leaning his forehead against hers. “My little Alice.”

“If someone sees us they’ll tell my father.” Alice pushed against his chest. His muscles flexed beneath her touch. Her skin thumped fast, just as her heart did. This was a bad idea.

“What’s wrong, Alice?”

“Well,” she pulled on her hair, twirling it around her finger. No matter how many times she looked into his dark eyes, she couldn’t get used to it. Butterflies invaded her stomach and she grew breathless. “I took a test today.”

“What kind of test? Don’t tell me you did one of those dumb IQ tests that Mr. Carl has? Are you some kind of genius?” Talon grasped her hips, forcing her close. Their bodies were inches apart.

“I’m pregnant.”

Harlem White froze. “What?”

“You know, ‘wah, wah’—a baby.”

“I know what pregnant means, Alice.”

She shoved him hard. “I knew I shouldn’t tell you. Just forget I said anything.”

“Where are you going?” Talon jerked her back. She landed in his arms with her back against his chest. Crowds of people stood waiting to get onto the Ferris wheel. Some complained, and one person left the line to find a manager.

“Let me go, Talon,” Alice said, resisting him. He wrapped his arms around her and tightened his embrace.

“Alice, why are you so afraid? We’ll just get married. It is no big deal. I wasn’t expecting you to say you were knocked up but that’s okay, we’ll just have a family sooner than planned.”

“You don’t have to marry me just because I am pregnant.”

“But, I want to.” Talon dug in his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box. “I was going to ask you to marry me when we went out to dinner tonight, anyway.”

Alice’s fingers trembled. “But we’re so young.”

“Young? Who cares? Love is love. Age shouldn’t matter you crazy cracker.” Talon pressed his lips against her neck. “I love you. I have loved you since the day you tossed that water balloon at me for smacking you on the bottom.”

She laughed, still shivering in his arms. Talon leaned over and kissed her. She could feel his teeth pressed against her lips. When his tongue touched hers, a fire burned through her and she knew there wasn’t anyone else in this world that she’d rather spend forever with.

“Alice!” Earl Collins yelled. He was a stout man who chewed tobacco and displayed his grandfather’s watch on his white business suit, wore alligator shoes, and creased white pants. Earl’s fat, stubby hands pressed against his invisible hips. Alice blinked, frozen at the sight of her father. What would he do to Talon?

Earl shook his head in disbelief then charged up the ramp. He pried her from Talon’s embrace and shoved her hard. Alice tumbled backwards and right into the metal railing. “You get home right this instant. And you,” he turned his attention to Talon, “You’re fired. Take that old, porch monkey father of yours with you.”

“Calm down, Earl,” Talon stammered, hiding his trembling fingers.

“If I ever see you touch my daughter again,” Earl spat at Talon. “I’ll have you hanged.”

“This is a different world, Mr. Collins. Wake up and smell the progress,” Talon said, backing away from the southerner. “You just wait. One day, you will accept me.”

“The day pigs fly.” Earl laughed, motioning for some white enforcement.

“I’m leaving, no need for that. C’mon, Alice. Let’s go.”

“Get home right now, Alice!” Earl snapped, pushing her down the ramp away from Talon. She looked back as Talon disappeared from sight.

“Daddy, let go of me!” She screamed.

“You better go straight home!” Earl’s fist waved in the air.

Alice ran through the carnival grounds, past Patten Lane, around Sardis Lake, and finally she slowed to a light jog when she reached the woods behind her plantation style house. She doubled over and burst into tears. How was she ever going to marry Harlem now? Her father would send his boys after him and next she’d wake up to Harlem hanging from a tree outside her bedroom window.

“Alice!” Rosemary Collins called out the back door. “I know you’re out there. Come in the house immediately!”

“Yes, mother.”

Rosemary was tall and slender; a woman with a million different hats. She wore business suits with skirts that sat at her knee cap and closed toed pumps that were too wide for her dainty feet. “What has happened?” Her voice was stern, and she knew the truth. Alice knew what her mother meant by “happened”. Rosemary would say that she wasn’t snooping through her daughter’s room. She was putting away laundry. Really, she was. “Who is it?” Rosemary pressed.

“What are you talking about?” Alice avoided her mother’s angry eyes. She should’ve taken out the garbage before she left the house.

“Oh, you know.” Rosemary waved the pregnancy stick in front of her face. “What’s his name, Alice? Don’t think I’m going to take care of the baby. I won’t. You could get a disease from unprotected sex. Why are you having sex in the first place? Are you married? No. You foolish girl; just threw your life away. I sure hope he was worth it.” Rosemary took a deep breath. “How could you be so dumb? Exactly what do you learn at that private school? Alice, I want a name.”

“That’s none of your business,” Alice said, stomping up the steps. “It’s my body and my life.”

“As long as you live in this house, you will answer to me.” Rosemary stood her ground but inside—, her heart pounded fiercely.

Earl burst through the door and Rosemary hid the pregnancy test in her suit pocket. “Alice, you have a lot of explaining to do.” His voice ricocheted off the walls. Alice slammed her bedroom door and threw herself on the bed. “Come out right now!” Earl pounded his fist on the old wood.

“Go away.” Alice smothered her face in a pillow. Tears stained the satin fabric and she held her breath. Dying was a good alternative to what was to happen next. She closed her eyes.

Earl kicked in the door. It flew forward and split down the middle. Alice jumped, racing towards the window. “I never should’ve allowed you to come with me to the carnival. It has only influenced you with wild, worldly ideas.”

Alice pushed up the window and narrowed her eyes at her father. “I love Talon and he’s going to marry me.”

“I’ll have him arrested. I know some guys who will be more than happy to get rid of him for me. Stay away from that—”

Alice crawled out her window. The shingles were old, and some bent up at the ends. She tiptoed across the slanted roof, ignoring her father’s shouts, and slid down the drain pipe.

Earl peered out and showed her his fist. “Don’t come back until you’ve broken it off with him. Until you do as I say, you can’t come home!”

She ran through the woods, ignoring the thorns on plants that gnashed into her legs and arms. Her little yellow sundress ripped, and Alice threw herself into Sardis Lake. It was getting dark. She had to find Talon. They needed to run away together. She just knew his life was in danger. Earl wasn’t always a very nice man; especially when it came to his “rules”.

They were such dumb rules, too. He thought he was superior. All his friends thought so, too. They sometimes went out at night disguised in white cloaks. Why did they bother? Everyone knew who they were and what their agenda was.

Alice climbed the gravel hill up into Patten Lane. There, a few shacks up, sat Herbert and Avis White. In Herbert’s lap was two-year-old Carlton Bowens. They weren’t kin; just neighbors. For some reason, Carlton loved Herbert. Would her child like Herbert just as much as Carlton did? Would he accept her as his daughter-in-law? She gulped. Would he accept his grandson?

Black people stepped out onto their porches. Avis frowned, lowering her head. It wasn’t like her to be rude, but Avis did not say hello—just slammed the door behind her.

“Mr. Herbert,” Alice was breathless, “sorry about today.”

“I lost my job,” Herbert said. “What do you want?”

“I need to find Talon.”

“Harlem ain’t here.” Herbert turned to face the honky. They made eye contact.

Tears brimmed in Alice’s eyes. She was soaking wet from head to toe. Would Herbert accept her?

“He’s in there.” He pointed to the shack next to his. The windows were boarded up and there was shouting coming from inside.

“Thanks, Mr. White.”

“Be careful,” he said, disappearing inside his home.

Alice tried to ignore the evil glares from the residents standing on their porches. Carlton tugged on her dress. “Hi.”

She smiled. Would her son be dark skinned like him? Like Talon? “Hi.”

“Carlton!” Marcel Bowens shouted. “Git away from that honky.”

Alice gently knocked on the shack’s door. It inched open and two eyes peeked out. “What do you want?”

“Is Talon here? I need to speak to him.” Alice trembled and her eyes blinked fast. “It’s an emergency.”

“Come on in.” The man was smooth, almost as if he wanted her to see something. Alice crept inside and gasped. Talon and a few of his Bones sat on bales of hay in the small living room. There were two pit bulls. Talon held one by a chain and another man held his. The dogs snarled and snapped. The men released the dogs and they collided into each other.

“Talon!” Alice screamed. “What are you doing?” She shoved past the door greeter and slipped down the gravel hill. Talon lied to her. He wasn’t going to stop hanging out with those guys. What sort of life would she and her child have? They’d be miserable, and the Bones would be his main concern. Who knew, maybe he’d end up in jail—or worse.

The back of her skirt was gray from the gravel and her calves bled. She trudged back to Sardis Lake and tried to rinse off. There was a tall tree that she leaned her body against. Her wounds stung, and her eyes burned when she closed them. Tears escaped and trickled down her cheeks. Talon was never going to change.

“Alice,” Talon called from on top of the hill.

“Go away!” She screamed back, forcing herself to run away. “I never want to speak to you again.”

Talon ran through the woods after her and skidded to a stop at the Collins’ Iron Gate. He watched her pound on the servant’s door. Edward, the butler, answered. He placed his hand on the top of her head. “It will be okay, my little Alice,” Edward said.

Earl waited in the hall. “You’re back so soon?”

“I broke it off with him.” Alice was a mess. Her hair was matted, and her clothes wet, dirty and ripped. “It’s over for good now. I never want to see him again.”

“Good, now go to your room and pray to God for forgiveness.” Earl said, pointing to the stairs.

Alice’s lip trembled, and she couldn’t swallow or stand with ease. She touched her belly and glanced at her mother. Rosemary looked away. Had she told him?

In her room, she collapsed on her bed and sobbed harder than ever before. It was as if she were dead inside. How could she love a man so evil? Why hadn’t she noticed this in him before?”

“Alice.” Talon tapped on her window. He sat on her roof, holding tightly to the sill. “Let me in, please.”

“No, go away.”

“Please, I’m going to fall.”

Alice unlocked the window and stomped away when he tumbled through. He hit the floor with a thud and grumbled.

“I’m sorry, Alice.” Talon crawled to her on his knees. “You have to forgive me. I need you. You’re going to be my wife, the mother of my future child and you’re the only person I want to spend my days with. I need you, Alice.”

“You—you fought your dog. You said you weren’t doing that. You lied to me. You’re a bad man. I thought there was some good in you, but I was so wrong.” Alice shook uncontrollably. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Talon tugged on her skirt and she shoved him. He dropped back on his heels and stared into her wet eyes. “You love me, and you are going to marry me and make me a better man.”

“You don’t want to be good.”

“I do, I want to be a good dad and husband. I won’t fight dogs anymore. I will quit the Bones and I will get a real job; a nine to five, just like real fathers. I will Alice; I want to.”

“Alice,” Rosemary knocked on the door.

“Hide,” Alice whispered, pointing at her closet. It was small and crammed with clothes and shoes. Talon crawled inside and shut the door.

“Yes, mother.”

Rosemary sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and tried her very best to hold her composure. Her eyes shifted with the shadows from the outside trees, hinting at her discomfort. Alice hoped her mother was filled with inner turmoil. If it were up to me things would be different, she’d say… But Alice knew her mother had no power.

Rosemary took a deep breath. “Does this thing belong to the Ferris Wheel conductor?”

“Do you mean Talon?”

“Yes. Is it his?”

“It’s a baby, mother; your grandchild.”

“That abomination is no kin to me,” Rosemary said jumping up. “I will take you into town and you can have it removed. No daughter of mine is going to give birth to a monkey child.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Alice cried now. “You’re my mother. Of all people, I thought that you would understand.”

“Alice,” Rosemary began. She looked at the ceiling, holding back her tears. “Maybe we can convince Earl to allow you to carry the child and then just give it up for adoption once it is born.”

“No! I’m not murdering my child and I am going to raise him, not some stranger.” Alice stood on her feet.

“Fine,” she said, tossing her hands up. “Fine, fine, fine! You go right ahead and be stubborn.” Rosemary slammed her door.

Her mother’s words were muffled, but she still heard them: “I should’ve never given birth to you!”

Talon opened the closet door and scrambled to his feet. He tripped over Alice’s many purses and shoes, tumbling down onto his knees.

“Run away with me, Alice. We can go to my parents. They will help us. I know they will,” Talon said. He pressed his face against her stomach, kissing her belly.

“Alice.” Earl clumped up the stairs. Now what?

“Wait for me outside. My father will kill you if he catches you in his house.” Alice pushed Talon out the window. Shingles fell off the roof as his body slipped down towards the drain pipe. They locked eyes for a moment before Earl burst inside.

“Your mother says you have something to tell me?”

Alice picked up a duffel bag and began to stuff clothes into it. “I’m moving out. Talon and I are going to get married after all.”

“You aren’t leaving this house.” Earl stood, barricading the exit. “Over my dead body will you marry a negro!”

“Come close, daddy.” Alice frowned. It was cruel, really, what she was going to do. But he didn’t understand Talon. Talon wasn’t all bad. He was the most imperfect man she’d ever met with the most unused potential. No one was really all good or all bad. Even Earl had good points.

“What?”

Alice leaned close to his ear. “I’m pregnant.”

“Get out! I want you out of my house.”

He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down the stairs. Edward, the butler pushed Earl away. “Run, Alice,” Edward said, holding back Earl.

“I’m going to have that colored hanged for this!” Earl yelled. The door shut in her face and she disappeared through the Iron Gate. Talon picked her up in his arms. She dropped her duffel bag and sobbed in his shirt.

“I love you, Talon.”

“I love you more.”

“When our son is born, I want to name him James.”

Talon chuckled, “I was pushing towards Harlem, Junior.”

“I want him to be named James.” Alice stood her ground.

“We’ll see.” He smiled, twirling her round.

 

Talon and Alice; they were not your typical couple. It didn’t last long.  Alice was hanged.

 

Heather’s Turn… is published by Feather Dreams Press (an imprint of Bella Tulip Publishing).

 

Available February 10, 2018. To learn more:

 

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Heather's Turn (The Carnies Series Book 1)
by Christina Leigh Pritchard
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THE DOCTOR SAID I SHOULD BE DEAD.

 

My heart beat furiously.  I looked up at the flashes of lightning in the sky. Yes, I should be dead.  Why wasn’t I?

 

 

C I N

Book One in the C I N Series

By Christina Leigh Pritchard

 

 

 

 

 

ONE

AMBER CHECKS IN

 

 

“Lisa, if you don’t finish packing your things, I swear you’ll go with nothing,” my mother, Amber, threatened. She wrapped duct tape around a medium sized box and carried it out to the car. Our home foreclosed, and it was eviction day. My mother couldn’t keep a job; no matter how simple or easy it was. She was beautiful with long blond hair and bright green eyes that sparkled when she spoke. She landed every job she applied for but several weeks later, her new employer realized all Amber really was: a pretty face. I looked nothing like my mom. I was seventeen but still didn’t fit into my body. My hips were too big, my boobs too small and I had Dumbo ears which, of course, meant that I had to wear my hair down—always. I had long bangs that helped cover up my oddly round, black eyes and I could never find shoes that fit my big feet.  “Lisa, I’m not going to tell you again; we leave in twenty minutes. I can’t afford to miss your train.”  “Yeah, well, you could try to hide your enthusiasm.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed an empty box. I surveyed my room. What could I possibly take? I lived in Florida, the Sunshine State. I was going to Lynn, Massachusetts. The old saying, “Lynn, Lynn, the city of sin”

played over and over inside my mind. How could my mother just drop me off in such a place? Lynn was filled with high crime rates, lack of good paying jobs and supported virtually on nothing more than fish markets and the GE factories. At least it was by the water. I couldn’t imagine life without sand between my toes. I could do without the sun tans, I guess, and the hot skaters who practiced on the benches but not the salty water.  “LISA! Get in the car!”  I evaluated the few things I had. I grabbed two pairs of jeans and anything with sleeves. I picked up my sneakers and my Adidas jacket from off the floor and I tossed my book bag over my shoulder. Inside the box, I put the only family heirloom I had: a picture of my mother and father from before I was born. …When they still loved each other, still laughed, still hoped. That must’ve been something to see. The only time my mother smiled or laughed was during an interview. It was never real and when her eyes set on me, she only frowned. I placed the few articles of clothing on top of my picture and carried the box out to the trunk. My mom had an old 1993 Mitsubishi Mirage with hardly any paint left. The worst part—the air didn’t work; complete suicide in a place where the temperature stayed around 90 degrees.   “Just take your sweet, precious time there, Lisa,” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I hope you don’t act up with your Aunt Millie. She would be just devastated and when she falls over with a stroke or heart attack from your disrespectful behavior you will have to carry her twenty miles to the nearest town.”

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I snapped, tossing my book bag into the back. The seat belt automatically locked me in when I closed the door. (The air conditioning didn’t work, there was hardly any paint left on the vehicle but, hey, at least the automatic seatbelts still worked!) “Roll the windows down, mom; it’s hot in here.” I leaned my head out the window to catch the last, hot Florida breeze I’d probably ever feel. “Aunt Millie said you could help her out with her chickens, and she’d pay you so that you could buy some warmer clothes while you’re there. I’m sorry I am such a bad mother.” “Why are you leaving me with some woman I don’t know? That’s bad parenting. Mom, you’ve never met this lady. What if she’s a serial killer or a chicken thief or some kind of lunatic?”  “I have to do this.” Her eyes stayed glued to the road. “I need to figure out what is wrong with me. I ran off your father with my emotional problems and I don’t want to drag you down with me, too.”  “Mom, I don’t want to go stay with some stranger.”  She couldn’t hear me. She blasted the radio and sang loudly, bouncing her head from left to right. She slapped me in the shoulder. “Stah—op!” “Sing with me, Lisa; it may be a long time before we get to do this again. I may be in that loony bin for a while.”  I didn’t think it was funny at all. Who wanted a mother that was crazy? What would I tell people when school started? So, Lisa, where is your mother? Oh, new potential friend, she’s probably in her padded cell wearing a strait jacket. How about your mom? I’ll be Miss Popularity for sure.  Amber turned into the train station, and with a deep breath, she took my hands gently in hers. “I’m sorry for being such a screwy mother but I promise I am going to change and we will look back on the past five years and laugh about it all. You believe me, don’t you? That, I am going to change and be a better person?” “Of course, mom, acknowledgment is half the cure.”  She was doomed. But who was I to be the one to tell her that? At least she was signing herself over to them. They’d keep her there until they could fix whatever was wrong inside her brain. “I better go before I miss my train.” I reached into the backseat and grabbed my backpack. “Pop the trunk, mom. I have a box in the back.”  “Please be careful. There are some real crazies on the train.” Now she cared?  “I’ll be fine, I promise. I have taken public transportation before. Get better soon. I love you.”  “Okay,” Amber wiped tears from her eyes. She never said she loved me back. It was a little disturbing. “Don’t talk to strangers.” “Aunt Millie is a stranger,” I said. My mom started her car and sped out of the parking lot like she was escaping a burning building.  “Goodbye, mother.”  I carried my things across to the other side of the tracks. I had to take an elevator up to a ramp, cross above the tracks and then take another elevator down so that I could wait for the north train. This was going to be the longest ride. It didn’t seem fair really that I was the one who had to travel from the southeast coast all the way northeast just so my mother could “stabilize” herself or as I called it, get more legal drugs that kept her in fairy tale world. She was just a pill popper and I couldn’t stand it.   What did I know about Aunt Millie? She’d lived her entire life in Lynn, Massachusetts out in the woods—what was left of it anyway—and worked as a dean at a boarding school for gifted boys and girls. She lived right behind the old school and had her own personal pond, a chicken coop and two pets. One dog named Pig and a Himalayan cat that she called Rat. During the one conversation I’d had with her, she’d admitted that her pets didn’t really care for her but showed up for dinner and that I was not to pet the cat. Who had pets that did not want to be touched? Since she was a dean at the boarding school, she pulled some strings and was able to enroll me, even though I wasn’t a genius.  She made sure to repeat the part about my not being a genius at least three times before moving on to dorm room arrangements. I’d have to dorm with some girl named Donna Denning. Aunt Millie had promised to introduce us ahead of time. She said she was a sweet girl.  To be completely honest, I was kind of happy to be moving to Lynn. I hated leaving my friends behind, but a little change of pace didn’t sound so bad. I just wished my mother would come too. Maybe that was all she needed: new surroundings. No, that had never helped before. I had a gut feeling that I’d seen my mother for the last time. I didn’t want to accept such a horrific reality, so I shoved the idea into the very back of my mind; a place I refused to visit. 

“Ticket?” I looked up at the train conductor. He held out his hand. “Do you have a ticket?” He asked. I nodded, reaching inside my bag.  “Sorry, I was daydreaming.” I handed him my crinkled confirmation page. “I ordered over the phone and they told me to write down this number for you.” “You will have to pay with cash once the train starts moving. Did you bring your ID?” I nodded and showed him my learner’s permit.  Thanks to Amber, I couldn’t drive yet. I’d never had the chance to practice driving. Maybe Aunt Millie would teach me. “Your assigned seat is 38A.” “Thanks,” I carried my box up the three steps and carefully placed it up above my assigned seat. I should’ve packed more clothes. Oh, well, too late for regrets.  The train gradually moved forward, and I stared out the window. I placed my hand on the glass and sighed.  “Goodbye, Florida; Goodbye, Mom.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO

LYNN, MASSACHUSETTS

 

 

I climbed down the train steps and surveyed my new surroundings. It was a chilly evening. The grey cement walls were covered in spray painted gang symbols, there was trash piled in corners and a bum underneath a wet, limp cardboard box. It was certainly not the kind of place in which one would want to hang out. I squinted to see if I spotted Aunt Millie. She’d said she was stout with short reddish-brown hair. So, I looked for an obese woman with cheaply dyed red hair.  I didn’t have to be a genius to know when someone was seasoning their words with salt. I was the queen when it came to showy words and false compliments.  Besides the bum and some rowdy teenagers, there were only three people waiting and none of them fit Aunt Millie’s description. So I sat down on a metal bench and dug in my box for my Addias jacket. I wrapped myself up and crossed my arms. I’d really have to get used to this weather. It felt like winter in Florida and it was only summer in Lynn. Could you imagine winter time?   I looked down at my watch. It had been my one and only gift from my father since he’d left us five years ago. He’d said this way

I’d be on time for things. It didn’t work. I just knew how late I was. It is always better to not know the time. (It’s easier to show up late and if someone says, “Do you know what time it is?” you can genuinely answer with, “No, I forgot my watch, what time is it? Am I late?” People forgive you when you leave your watch at home.  Aunt Millie was an hour late. I wonder if she forgot her watch…) I turned around and took another peek at the people congregating around the train station. There was a woman with three young children, an old man with a suitcase on wheels and a teenage boy about my age. He leaned against the ticket booth with his hands in his baggy jeans. He had on a Red Sox Jersey and a beanie cap shoved down over the top of his head. Did he have hair? Well, he had some facial hair. I squinted to see what was on the side of his arm; a tattoo maybe? He pulled his hands out of his pockets and cupped them around his mouth. “Is there a Lisa Brown here?” He looked at me. I raised my hand. “You Lisa?” He asked again. I nodded. “Lisa Brown?”  “Yes, would you like to see my ID?” I rolled my eyes. “Who are you and where is Aunt Millie?”  “She had an emergency meeting to attend to. I’m Michael, one of the students at C I N Boarding School.” He crept closer. I could see his tattoo now. It said “C I N”. He had long brown hair underneath his beanie cap and it was a goatee that he sported on his face. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a package of cigarettes and a lighter.  I shook my head and frowned. “I thought the kids who went to C I N were geniuses.”

He smiled, catching on immediately. “When you’re as smart as me, the sooner you die the better. Besides that, I have an addictive personality. I can watch the same shows, read the same books, and do the same activities over and over. It’s sad, really.” “Yeah, that is sad.” Michael ignored me. He took my box and led the way out to the parking lot. He didn’t say anything else. His eyes studied the trees and sky. He seemed to be deep in thought or prayer maybe. Please save me from this dreadful female Floridian. Then again, he was a genius... Maybe he did have deep thoughts running through his mind.  “I have to stop at the store. Do you mind?” Michael opened the passenger side door of an old white Isuzu Pick-up truck.  “No, that’s cool.” I rolled up the window so that the chill didn’t freeze my face.  “I have a jacket you can borrow until you get a heavier one.” Michael offered. “It gets pretty chilly at night.”  “That’s okay, this one is good.” Michael dug behind the seat and pulled out a wrinkled ski jacket. “Here, wear this.” He tossed it in my lap.  “Thanks.” I obeyed, overlapping my jacket with his. I placed my hands in front of the warm heat flowing through the vents. I wanted to tell him I was from Florida, that this was as cold as our winters ever got but he never asked where I was from or why I was so cold. He didn’t put the radio on either, just drove in silence.  I tapped my foot on the floorboards and whisked my fingers in front of the warm air as if I was conducting a symphony. Michael glanced at me. “So, Michael, what’s C I N like?” I practically sang. If he wasn’t going to entertain me, I’d have to just compromise.  “Like any other school, I guess. I’ve gone there since forever.” He turned off the highway and entered the Lynn City Limits. I shook my head and pounded my palms against his dashboard. He jumped. “What are you doing?” “Wrong! Most kids live at home and not at their school. It can’t possibly be like every other school. It’s a ‘special’ school.” Michael stared blankly.  He parked in front of a little food mart.  “I’m going to get some milk. I’ll be right back.” I dropped back against the seat and sighed. Michael was boring. I couldn’t imagine a bunch of Michaels all around me night and day for an entire school year. Thank goodness, I was in my senior year of high school. I could leave Aunt Millie’s house as soon as I was eighteen and live on my own.  I looked out the window. Lynn smelled like fish. There were two seafood stands outside the old worn out buildings and overflowing garbage cans. Two glass windows next to the food mart were covered in spray painted obscenities. Bass and loud lyrics blared as two cars whizzed by. I saw a hooker loitering in the narrow alley behind the convenience store. Her eyes were red and empty.  Where had my mom sent me? I glanced in the side mirror. A girl with long, stringy blond hair and thin red highlights glared at me. Her hands crossed over her chest. What was her problem? I turned around and pushed my face against the back window, puffing my cheeks out like a blowfish and waved. She narrowed her eyes and stomped away. I sat back down and laughed. Michael climbed into the cab with his milk. He frowned. “That’s Ally. I wouldn’t get on her bad side if I were you. She’s what the C I N kids call our personal Nazi Commandant.”  “Oh.” We drove through thick woods and around a large lake. There was an old stone school with a faded sign that said ‘C I N Boarding School”. The school sat behind the lake. Two small cottages were on the other side of the water. One of those homes must’ve been Aunt Millie’s. I saw a chicken coop in the center of the houses and a cat sitting on top of the chicken wire.  Michael grinned. “By the way, Ally, the girl you made faces at, lives with Millie.”  I twisted sideways and slapped his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me? Are you crazy?” He slammed on his brakes. “Ouch, what’d you do that for?” I flew forward and banged my forehead on the dash. “Oh, I’m such an idiot sometimes. I should’ve minded my own business.” “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it might be you who is a little crazy.” He started his truck, stalling the engine. “Promise not to slap me again and I’ll tell you who else lives with Millie.”  “I won’t slap you.” “Ally has a brother named Alex. He’s the smartest guy in our school but not very social.” Michael parked in front of Aunt Millie’s wooden cottage. It was painted bright yellow with a pale green trim.

She had flower boxes in the windows and a little lion statue by her front door.  “She isn’t one of those people who have a bunch of knick knacks all around the house is she?” I studied the house but Michael covered his face with his hands. “Are you really that slow?” I blinked. “I’m following you just fine. You said Alex was a troubled soul who finds all the kids at C I N boring.” Michael didn’t find me funny in the least bit. His eyes narrowed and he motioned for me to get out of his truck. “I am not boring.” I shrugged my shoulders. “No one said you were.” “You’re ridiculous. Now I know why my parents wanted me to go to school with people at the same intelligence level. You, Lisa Brown, are—” “Well, it was nice meeting you, Michael. I appreciate the ride.” I grabbed my box and backpack. “Want your jacket back?” I slowly let it slip down my arms. It dropped into the dirt.  Michael’s lips pressed tight together. “No, I wouldn’t want you to freeze to death.” He peeled out of Aunt Millie’s driveway. “Mind the cat!”  I watched his truck disappear amongst the trees. Maybe Michael wasn’t boring after all. There was definitely some potential; he could be taken out of his glass bubble with a little persuasion.  The jacket lay limp at my feet. If it wasn’t so cold I’d leave it there on the ground. Too bad I needed the warmth. I bent down and put it back on my shoulders. 

It was dark outside and I could hardly see the front door. I picked up my box and climbed the three steps onto the wooden porch. There was a porch swing painted purple of all colors and Aunt Millie had a chipped red door. I lifted my hand, making a fist, ready to knock.  Before I could, the door cracked open an inch. “Who are you?” A male voice called from inside.   “I-I’m sorry, is this Millie’s house? I’m her niece from Florida.” The door swung open and a boy about three inches taller than me stood in the doorway. He had pale blue eyes and nearly bleached blond hair. His lips were thin and his fingernails bitten and chipped.  “You must be Alex.” I forced a smile. “My name is Lisa. Are you my cousin?”  Alex did not return my smile. Instead, he spun around so that his back faced me and then quickly stomped down the hall.  “It was nice meeting you as well.” My voice echoed inside the empty room.  I put my stuff by the front door and inspected Aunt Millie’s house. It was small. To the left was a formal living room with just two love seats, and to the right was a round, wooden table with four chairs. A galley kitchen was to the right as well. In front of me was a narrow hallway with four doors. I gulped. One had to be a bathroom, one must be Alex’s room, Aunt Millie’s and the last one meant I’d be sharing with Ally, the cranky girl at the store. Life couldn’t get any better. Maybe I was wrong and there was another door that I couldn’t see from where I stood. Maybe Ally lived next door by herself. Maybe this was all just a dream. Yeah, right. I was sharing a room with the Nazi. 

I sat on one of the sofas and put my hands between my knees. In the corner, between the two sofas was a black and white Boston terrier. “Pig? Is that what they call you?”  The dog looked up at me with his big, bulging eyes and snarled. I scooted over to the other end of the couch. Wow. I’d entered my own personal house of horrors. Pig lay back down and fell asleep.  Alex stood in the hallway. I jumped when I saw him. He’d entered so quietly. “I thought you were the dog, coming to attack.” Alex frowned. “He doesn’t like to be bothered. Millie will not be home for a while, so it would be wise for you to go to your room. If you are hungry there is food in the refrigerator.”  He turned to leave. I opened my mouth and Alex twirled around. “What? What do you want?” “Where’s my room?” He really was everything Michael described. “Also, I need to know where the bathroom is so I can take a shower.” “Sounds reasonable, I suppose. Follow me.” He took two steps backwards and opened the first door to his left. “This is your room. The bathroom is directly across the hall.” He took a deep breath. “Anything else you’d like to inquire about?” I just stared. His light blue eyes danced with anger. Had I said something to offend him? Did he hear me tease him with Michael? I’d been inside the truck, right? Michael said it, not me. I was just an innocent bystander. If this guy was my cousin— “I am not your cousin.” Alex blurted. My heart beat furiously. Could he hear what I was saying? “My family is out of town and Millie offered to stay and watch us until school started. This is my house, not Millie’s. She lives next door.”

“Thanks,” I frowned. “Do you have a TV here?”  Alex rolled his eyes. “What in the world would we need a TV for?”  “To pass the time, I guess.” It felt like a trick question. “Who painted your house all those different colors?” “You have to feed the chickens early so I suggest you go to bed.” He disappeared into the room next to mine. I closed my eyes as his door slammed shut.  What was the matter with this place? I turned around and the little Boston terrier stood in the entrance of the hallway, blocking me from passing. “What’s your problem? Pig...” He glared at me intently. “You’re supposed to greet people when they come to your house. You’re supposed to be man’s best friend.” I went into the bedroom. It was tiny and there was only one bed.  I wouldn’t have to share with the Nazi, would I? I sure hoped not.  Pig stood in my doorway. His head peered around the corner with his bug eyes. I sat down on the bed and stared back. “So, I’m not allowed to touch the cat but what about you? Are you friendly?”  Pig growled. I crossed my legs and put my hands on my knees. “Well, Pig, I’m gonna change your name to Bipolar. One second you want me to pay attention to you and the next minute you act like you want to kill me.” Pig crept closer. He was halfway in my doorway now. He turned and lay in the entrance, almost as if he was on guard over my room. What was he protecting me from? The cat? Pig turned his head sideways and sort of nodded. I chuckled. First Alex can read minds, and now the dog. I must be really tired. 

I looked up at the tiny shelf next to the bed. There were black and white photos inside beautiful handcrafted frames. The kids in the pictures looked just like Ally and Alex. Maybe the fair came here and did those old-fashioned photos. If I were crazy I would say they were authentic from maybe the 1920’s. Maybe it was their great great-grandparents or something. That sort of stuff happened all the time, right? Nearly twins several generations later…  I needed to brush my teeth, but Bipolar Pig would not let me leave the room. He growled when I tried to step over him. So I just went to bed. What was the point in getting bit? I probably forgot to bring a toothbrush, anyhow. Maybe in the morning I could meet Aunt Millie and she would at least take me to the store to get the necessities. I sure wish I hadn’t left all my things behind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE

MIDNIGHT VISITOR

 

 

Pig barked and snarled. I jumped up. I’d fallen asleep. What time was it? Midnight… Maybe Aunt Millie was home. I flipped on the light. Pig stood in the doorway with his hair raised and his teeth bared. But, this time it was not at me. He was vicious. The little ten-pound pug nosed dog scared me worse than a Doberman Pincher or Pit Bull.  “Who’s there?” I twisted my head around the corner. Pig did not get upset that I stood so close to him now. His only concern was for the dark shadowy figure crouching in the hall. Was it the cat? What was wrong with the feline? Did she have rabies and they wouldn’t put her down or something? My eyes adjusted and I squinted to get a better look at the invader.  It was a human, for sure. We were being robbed. Why else would Bipolar Pig be attacking? I needed something to defend myself with. I looked around the barren room. The only thing with substance was the shelf bolted into the wall. I doubted Alex’s parents would approve of me ripping their shelf off the wall but what else could I do? My heart pounded.

I looked under the bed and spotted a painter’s stick with a purple tip. I grabbed it and held on tight. My fingers trembled, and I couldn’t breathe. Pig snarled and snapped at whoever lurked in the hallway. Footsteps echoed in my ears. The burglar was advancing. “Get out, whoever you are! There is nothing here that’s valuable! They don’t even have a TV!” I pounded my fists on the wall. Maybe if I was quiet they wouldn’t come near me. It was too late for that brilliant idea. “I know karate and I’m not afraid to use it!”   Who was I kidding? Karate?! Pig snapped at the darkness, growling louder than before. He barked and barked and lunged forward. His teeth bit into someone. His jaws locked onto them and he wouldn’t let go. “Pig, you stop that.”  I looked up and Alex stood in dim light. Was the dog biting him? No. He wasn’t moving. But whoever Bipolar was biting wasn’t screaming or struggling. Maybe Pig didn’t have any teeth. No, I’d seen them. They were razor sharp. “Who’s he biting?” I leaned firmly against the closet door. “Not you, right?” “He’s biting me.” A girl’s voice answered. She flipped on a light in the hall. “Pig likes you.”  I poked my head around the corner and came face to face with Ally. She was the snotty girl at the food mart that I’d made faces at in Michael’s pickup truck. She was the Nazi.  “Bipolar was protecting me?” 

Her eyes widened. “Bipolar? Really? Yeah, your Bipolar Pig isn’t going to let me near you.” Ally admitted. “Smart dog... You should heed his advice and do the same.” She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. Red highlights glowed in the hall light. Pig sat at my feet and snarled at Alex who stood inches away.  “Keep your door closed,” Alex said. He then disappeared inside his room. Where the heck was I? What sort of people own animals that attack them? And why didn’t she scream when he bit her? She should be in the bathroom bandaging her leg. Instead, Ally the Nazi was leaving the house again. Did she come and go whenever she wanted? Aunt Millie wasn’t a very good babysitter at all.  I looked down at Pig. “Do you even like your name? Why do they call you that?” Pig snorted almost like a real pig. He backed up so that I could close the bedroom door. I crawled back in bed and Pig lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.  “Thanks for watching out for me, Pig.”  He snorted, and I turned out the light.

 

End of Excerpt.

 

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