By Daniel O’Shea

      The boy didn’t require a flame, or even a fuse. David ran around the department store, taking down racks of clothes, shoe displays, and subsequently, the hem of an older woman’s dress. Nancy tried to follow closely behind him, apologizing to any witnesses or victims. The older woman was not kind to Nancy, and her son’s maniacal behavior.

      The older woman said, “What kind of boy puts her hands on a woman? You should be ashamed of what you’re raising”.

      Nancy looked directly in the woman’s eyes with a soft smile. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He had a little too much dessert, and not enough lunch”.

      “That still doesn’t make it right. Get your kid under control. For Christ’s sake!”

      “Again, I’m really very sorry. Can I have your dress fixed?”

      The woman stared back at her, judging her. She said, “No, that’s alright”. The woman squeezed past Nancy, making sure to push clothes off the rack, similar to what David had just done.

      Nancy could feel the glare searing her back as she walked forward. A quick scan of the store in front of her revealed a demonstrative calm. Nancy currently found herself in the shoe section. She sat down, and took a deep breath. She rubbed her temples in a counter-clockwise motion. David had disappeared again.

      Nancy didn’t talk much with David anymore. Well, it wasn’t that she didn’t talk with David. It was that David barely responded, always seemed to be somewhere else. She seemed more concerned recently about his happiness. A mother always does. Is David happy? Am I providing with every opportunity? Does he blame himself for the divorce? These were the sort of questions that passed through her head multiple times a day. A giant cardboard display was rocking back and forth in the men’s formal wear section.

      David was yanking ties off their hangers, giggling along the way. He could see his mom fast approaching with a frantic look on her face. He hadn’t yet been spotted. David turned and ran along the far wall of the store, crouching down the whole way, before tripping over his untied shoes. His mom still hadn’t caught up yet, so he athletically rolled under a display of women’s business suites. David was now pretending this was Vietnam, just like Grandpa had graphically described to him. The Vietcong was gaining ground, and David was the only American soldier remaining. His mother slowly strolled past his location. David could see his mother put her hands on her hips, and gaze around the remaining rows of apparel. He waited patiently for the right moment, and dove head first into the women’s bathroom. David allowed the door to close on its own, then slowly slithered to a vertical position. He was hoping his mother hadn’t spotted him, especially since he had worn his camouflage sweats to the store. It remained quiet, and David counted to ten.

      Nancy was developing a migraine. She had her weekly book club meeting in approximately one hour. Their marriage counselor had suggested going out and making more friends, or joining a club. The divorce was almost six months past, and Nancy was reading books and discussing them with her peers. That is, if she could escape this store.

      The book club would be discussing the first Catherine Harris book. This was the book that inspired the HBO series, True Blood. Nancy had needed to get David a new pair of pants, drop him off at the babysitter, and then make it to the book club. She also had to finish reading the book. The maternal radar knew son was somewhere in the women’s section. The one place a small boy could really embarrass his mother. Nancy went to the bra and lingerie section, hoping to get lucky. The department store had once again gotten quiet, like being in the eye of a hurricane. Nancy began taking slow, heavy steps, aping a lioness hunting her cub.

      Each aisle, every clothing rack, Nancy checked. She went into the dressing rooms, both men’s and the women’s. David was nowhere to be found. She began wondering if she had passed him four or five times already. Logically, David could be anywhere that she wasn’t at all times. Nancy garnered a second wind of valor, and began searching for David again.

      David slipped out of the bathroom without being noticed. The woman in the last stall was making fresh air rare. He was going to try and forget that experience all together. David was going to attempt to sneak back up behind his mother. He was taken quite a bit off guard when the Vietcong went right to the commode he had just been occupying. She came marching out, looking a bit frustrated, and equally light headed. David always knew when his mother was angry, as she began to gnaw on her bottom lip. David was so close to her, he could see the light tear forming in her right stocking.

      Nancy was growing very impatient. She had nearly chewed her lip to infection. Nancy had never been much for discipline. This was one of the main points of the divorce. The constant argument of discipline versus none whatsoever made for numerous hours of fighting, and very little sex or sleep. Nancy just knew deep down that David had a good sense of right and wrong. The dough eyes that she had fallen in love with were the only good thing that her son had inherited from his father.

      The book club meeting was at six o’clock. Nancy fished the cell phone out of her purse. Its LED display told her it was time to leave fifteen minutes ago. I guess David is going to have those same ratty pants a couple of more days. She rubbed her temples clockwise this time, then returned to the restroom. She called her girlfriend to let her know she was going to be a little late, but didn’t tell her why.”The pitfalls of pride,” she muttered to herself. Nancy rinsed cold water on her face, and then stared at the mirror’s reflection. Not too bad, considering the shenanigans, and sleepless nights. You are still beautiful. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she noticed a familiar pair of blinking sneakers, untied, under a clothing rack. Upon closer inspection, Nancy realized that her son also needed new shoes.

      David was frosty with excitement. He hadn’t been this close to the enemy since the battle had begun. He repositioned himself, so his back was to the enemy. He was reloading his weapons, quietly, preparing for another fight or flight situation. David’s hands were clammy, and he was taking small, shallow breaths. His mother had begun to circle the adjacent racks, slowly convening on him like a shark. David could hear his mother clearing her throat.

      Nancy addressed the three clothing racks right in front of her. She said, “David, come on out now. I would like to discuss the possibility of a Game Stop trip. I saw the new Mortal Kombat game just came out. I also know it’s a mature video game. Requires parental permission. It may be in your future if you come out”.

      Silence once again enveloped the women’s clothing racks. David’s sneakers remained perfectly still, except for the pair of red blinking lights. He didn’t like the sound of surrender. His grandfather never would have given up. Besides, he was still waiting on the new Tekken game, as well as the new Madden, and NBA Live. David knew this was yet another empty promise. One always had to be aware of the white flag when approaching the Vietcong. David could see right thru the enemy’s diversionary tactics. He remained perfectly still.

      A minute or so later, Nancy could feel her blood pressure rising. On to round two, Nancy thought. “Okay David, you don’t want a new video game? That’s fine. I can arrange no television, or video games this entire weekend, including the babysitter’s tonight. Which we’re gonna be late for now, thank you very much. So, what’s it gonna be, David? Hmmm?”

      David remained steadfast. He knew perfectly well that his mother couldn’t cash in on that threat; especially since the divorce. In times prior, David still ended up in front of the television on the weekends. He hated his mom’s book club, and he hated the babysitter. David wanted to keep her distracted long enough that they could just go home. All David wanted to do was go home and watch Sponge Bob. This would take some finesse on his part. He began to wonder what option three was going to be.

      David found out soon enough. There sounded like a commotion everywhere in the store. The loud speaker was making reverberations in every corner of the store. His mother’s voice became stern, and echoed all over the store, and it was directed at one, hidden American soldier.

      Nancy said, “Alright mister. Third and final option. Leave me alone, I’ll give it back. I’m threatening my son. Yeah right, you couldn’t catch that boy with help from the SWAT team. David, if you don’t come out right now, all weekend plans with grandpa will be suspended until further notice. And by further notice, I mean not till Christmas”.

      The cashier yanked the phone away from Nancy. Nancy didn’t hear his complaints. She scanned the rows of clothing by the bathroom. She noticed a small, camouflaged child running through the aisles. David came running around the register, then landed below Nancy’s purse. David said, “Here I am Mommy”.

      Nancy said, “Alright David, time to go”.

      “What about my pants?”

      “Your pants are gonna have to wait now honey. We ran out of time”.

      “Are you dropping me off at Michelle’s house?”

      Nancy stared deeply into David’s eyes. She said, ‘Do you have a problem with Michelle? Should I just skip book club, and take you home so you can watch Sponge Bob in peace?”

      “That would be awesome mom. You’re the best!”

      Nancy quickly responded, “Nice try David. So what’s your problem with Michelle? You don’t like her anymore?”

      “No, no, mommy, I like Michelle fine. It’s just that well, she gotta new boyfriend. They play blanket monster the whole time, and don’t talk to me, or play with me”.

      “David Lee, stop that right now! I know whatch’re doing right now, knock it off. Michelle doesn’t have a boyfriend. I would know. I have a Facebook sweetie. I would know if Michelle had a boyfriend, or if she broke up with one, or whatever’s going on with her at all times”.

      Nancy and David’s conversation was interrupted by the National Anthem. She began fishing through her purse, while holding David’s chest. David had a bad habit of assaulting vehicles in the parking lot. This was the one occasion where she did not need that to happen. She finally got to her phone and answered it.

      “Hey Andy, how are you, sir?”

      “Not too bad. Is my grandson around?”

      “Yes, hold on one second. And make sure he tells you what he just did”.

      “I will, Nancy”.

      David took the phone from his mother. His face had lit up as soon as he realized who was on the phone.

      “Hey Grandpa! How’s it going?”

      “So what’s this I hear? You givin Momma trouble? You know she’s doing the best she can. Am I gonna have to teach you a lesson, Davy?”

      “No Granpa”. David giggled with excitement. He really loved his grandfather, particularly bed time. Bed time was war story time. The stories had Grandma in them, along with blood, guts, and decapitated ears and heads.

      Nancy listened to the conversation while she helped David into the front seat of her car. She heard him describe his shenanigans in the department store. David was entirely truthful down to every detail, even the ones she didn’t know about.

      As Nancy got into the driver side of the car, David asked, “Mommy, do you have anything you need to tell Grandpa?”

      “No, sweetie, tell him I’ll call him later”.

      “Okay, Mom. Okay Grandpa, um-hmm, um-hmm, I will. Okay. I love you too Grandpa”. 

David handed Nancy her cell phone. She put it back into her purse, and started the car. David became antsy as soon as they left the parking lot. He tapped his foot repeatedly during every car ride. David was still very concerned about the last offer in the clothing store. His grandfather was the only real positive male influence from his dad’s side of the family. He muttered, “So, um, Mom, can I still go to Granpa’s this weekend?”

      Nancy smiled, but only briefly. She said, “We’ll see sweetie”. Nancy maintained her poker face in the hopes that it might actually work this time. As they approached Michelle’s house, she glanced over at David. He smiled directly back at her. The little shit already knows he got his way. Nancy smiled kindly back at him.

      “Yes, of course, sweetie. You’re going back to Grandpa’s this Sunday”. Nancy pulled into Michelle’s driveway. She told David, “I’ll be back in about two and a half, three hours. Try not to be too mean to Michelle’s new boyfriend”.

      David gave his mother a kiss, and got out of the car slowly. He smiled at his mom, and she waved as she pulled away. Michelle came out and gave him the usual salutations.

      Nancy left David at the babysitter’s, and made her way to the book club. She left the radio off for the fifteen minute ride. Instead of letting her girlfriend’s know she was close, she drove with the windows up and the Garmin off.

      He’s always going to get his way. He’s a good kid though. I just wish he would come out of his shell a little more. I mean, I really am lucky. He could really care less about television, or  video games even. It’s his grandfather that’s important to him. Family first. Maybe this kid will turn out alright. He does have a good sense of right and wrong.

 By Michael Rodgers 

               The score was tied with three minutes left on the clock when she started in on me again.

They’ll be here any minute now! Why do you always have to make me crazy! Just once I wish you’d…

Okay, okay, okay! Stop screaming at me for crissakes. Just tell me if Michigan wins or loses. I say the words, but I know she doesn’t give a shit. I head for my old pick-up truck just to shut her up. The one game I care about all year long and she’s got me running errands for her ning errands for yingfriends. She sure got bitchy after the second kid…got bossy, too…and fat.

Jesus, do we really need another dinner party for her friends? Don’t those people ever eat at their own frigging houses? Of course, all the dinner parties are for her friends. My friends don’t come around much anymore. They say they don’t like the tension. Go figure. I don’t like the tension either, yet here I am. Stuck. Stuck with two kids who treat me like shit, a double mortgage and a wife who hates my guts. Okay, hate might be a bit strong, but still.

Eyup, nowadays it’s just me, the lawnmower and the TV on the weekends. Oh, and the dinner guests. Can’t forget the dinner guests. Snooty asses. What was I supposed to get again? Oh, yeah, baguettes. Heaven forbid we have a dinner with ordinary bread. The horror, the horror…

I found a space right in front of the store and that’s when I saw him. One of those human train wrecks. What the hell was he doing? It looked like he was arguing with the garbage can right there where the glass auto-doors open. His bright yellow windbreaker clashed hard with his greasy pants and his hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb since the Reagan Administration.

The garbage can was one of those domed models with the spring loaded door you have to push in on to dump your trash. I sat there watching the guy and thinking, the poor bastard. Then I thought, if he wanted a real argument, I could give him my address. Hell, I’d even drive him home. Let him deliver the baguettes or something. That oughta get a rise out of the old lady’s dough.

The argument with the garbage can continued, so I decided to sit there and see if the show had another act.  I couldn’t tell who was winning, but the homeless guy seemed to be holding his own…like I used to do. He’s silent for a minute as if he’s really focused on what the garbage can is saying. Then he throws his hands up in disgust, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He turns real sharp, takes three quick steps away and then spins back as if the garbage can just insulted his sexual competence.

Yeah, I know. That old canard. Been there, done that. That’s like the beginning of the end when they hit you with that one. Call it a turning point or whatever, but when the venom sinks that deep, the road back to normalcy usually misses the guardrail and goes right off the cliff. I’ve seen a lot of guys post the white flag after that one. I know I did.

As I sat there watching, I wondered how the poor bum ended up arguing with a garbage can out in front of the Winn-Dixie on a Saturday night. Apparently homeless. Obvious mental issues. Probably been married before.

I have to give the old bird credit though, as far as I could tell he was giving as good as he was getting. Suddenly, he’s standing there with his hands on his hips and his head cocked to one side and leaning in real hard, like he’s taking some serious abuse, but I can tell he’s just about had it with this garbage can’s shit.

Then the homeless guy does something I’ll never forget. He takes off his shiny yellow wind-breaker and crams it right into the mouth of the garbage can leaving nothing, but part of one sleeve hanging out. That oughta shut the bitch up. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he stomped off toward the corner of the building and away into the woods. He never looked back. I sat there for a long while trying to absorb what I’d just witnessed. In spite of his obvious problems, I felt a great admiration for the crazy old homeless guy. At least he didn’t compromise on his principles. He may have lost a windbreaker, but he still had his dignity.

It took another full minute to remember why I was sitting in the parking lot in the first place. Oh, yeah. The dinner guests need baguettes. To hell, I thought, I don’t even like baguettes. I cranked the ignition on the old pick up and drove away knowing I would need my own yellow windbreaker when I got home.

 By Wendy Hobbs

      “What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger!” I have proven this mantra time and time again. Everyone has a story to tell. All too often it’s the reason why you don’t, but occasionally it’s the inspiration why you do. I unfortunately did not grow up in the most loving home. I spent my younger years with the only thing I could look forward to; learning. I had solid grades throughout school and aspired to attend college, to accomplish great things. No one on either side of my family had ever been a college graduate.

      When I was 17, I lost focus and dropped out of school, promptly getting married. I had two amazing boys shortly after and thought “Well, this is my life,” When my mother was 47 years old, she passed away from cancer. I was only 23 years old then. While I watched her take her last breath, feeling defeated, I whispered “This is my life.” My marriage could not survive this life altering event, and I divorced 2 years later. Before my mother’s passing, I began Cosmetology School and managed to graduate in my mother’s honor. I have continued my love of hair for 13 years, although I aspired for more. Later, I tried my luck at another marriage, gaining an 18 month old step daughter with it.

      My second marriage was emotionally draining and often abusive. Just when I realized I needed to get out, I had my third son. So again I thought to myself, THIS is my life!” More time passed and eventually we had to move in with my father. Four day later, my older brother also passed away from cancer. He was just 38 years old and much too young. At this point I begged God, “Please, DON’T let this be my life!”

      That was my wake up call. I began to change my perspective on living, “IS this my life?” I asked. Years have slipped by, while I have tried to steady myself on one stone after the next. Thinking about the short life span of my mother and my brother, I felt time could be running out. At 35 years old, I divorced my second husband but kept my beautiful daughter, who still lives with me. I pulled myself up, got my life on track and demanded, “This is MY life!”

      All along, my biggest obstacle has been myself. The many challenges I have faced are the things that did in fact, not kill me. These life moments that have made me stronger were my inspiration to return to my love of learning. The greatest gift I can give myself and my children is a degree. It may have taken me longer than most, but my determination is greater because of the stones I have stood on. This is my selfish accomplishment, which isn’t very selfish at all. This goal is for me, my time to succeed, while my children watch and silently learn. I can now proudly say “This is my LIFE!”

Biography

  Wendy Hobbs is an often overwhelmed, always challenged mother of 4 children that gets through every day with a determination of success. This narrative piece explains why she has that determination.

By Gina Eairheart

      Her eyes had the ability to dig deep into your soul when she looked at you, leaving a person incapable of hiding behind their own lies that maybe, they truly believed themselves. They were the purest green I had ever seen, like the grass on a sunny spring morning with a mist of dew to enhance their color. My lie was that I wanted her and she seemed to know it, without my asking. Her light brown hair fell across her forehead and tumbled in waves to her shoulders, dripping like water down to the middle of her back. I wanted to tangle my hands into her soft brown locks of hair and pull her into me so I could taste the sweetness of her thick pink lips. Every morning I sat on the bus directly across from her and sometimes we chatted about the weather or politics, the subject never mattered to me much. Just to be in her presence and be able to watch her delicate movements with those frail looking freckled hands and to watch her lips form words was enough to make the rest of my day go smoothly. We always sat opposite each other on the bus to downtown every morning for our commute to work. Jennifer was an office clerk for an accountant, but her passion for life existed within her art, which mostly went unseen by the public inside the walls of her tiny studio. She more often than not described her work to me in great detail with enthusiasm that radiated out of those bright green eyes of hers and I wondered how she could see the things she did, both in her art and in people she met in life. I always worked up the courage every morning to finally ask her out, but never did. Today is the day, Kyle, I would say to the face staring back at me in the mirror. Then I would begin a close inspection of every surface of my face for nicks left from a shaving mishap or any acne that might be popping up here or there. Checking my smile for anything caught in between my teeth that brushing might have missed.

###

      I hopped up on the bus ready to make my move today was the day I reminded myself. She was radiant, almost glowing, and wearing a mini skirt and a blouse that cut in a low v-line between her breasts. I could smell her perfume filling the dank bus with a flowery scent.

      “Good morning Jennifer,” I said.

      “Morning Kyle, how’s it goin’ so far?”

      “Great! I get to look at a beautiful woman every morning. So what’s the occasion?”

      “Occasion? Oh, you must mean the new skirt?”

      “Yeah, you look amazing.”

      “Thank you, I was hoping you would notice,”

      Then the unthinkable happened, right at the moment when I sat down across from her. She stood up, gripping the vertical hand rail, smiled at me seductively and swung herself into the seat next to me. Her delicate hand found my right knee and slid up my inner thigh stopping midway between my knee and the crotch of my jeans. She leaned in and whispered softly in my ear.

      “So, you wanna skip work today?”

      “Yes,” I said.

      “Good, I want to show you something,”

      We got off the bus at 23^rd street and made our way down the street holding hands, laughing and talking like we had been dating for years. My heart was pounding and my ears were ringing with the sounds of her soft voice. She took her keys out of her purse and unlocked the door to her studio. A rush of air stagnant with the smell of recently burned incense wafted past us. I peered into the darkness of her studio, as she disappeared a few steps inside the doorway.

      “Wait here,” She said.

      “Umm, Ok,” I replied.

      She left me there with my mind racing wanting to know what was inside, Jennifer had never really described her art to me, and the anxiety of wanting her and wanting to know more was building up inside of me. My heart was pounding hard enough that I thought it was going to break ribs and somehow escape my chest. Hearing a clicking noise from inside I briefly saw her face as she lit some candles, the room dark around her, with only her face and shoulders eliminated in a halo of golden light. When she stepped away from the candles I lost track of her movement and only the sound of those sexy red heels click, click, clicking against the floor, which sounded like concrete. Then she flipped a switch that lit the dark room with a hazy bluish light over canvas paintings hung neatly on the walls. Each painting had its own light, my eyes tried to focus on the closest one to the door. A human form appeared, animalistic, as though it was leaping out of the painting it was trapped in. Naked flesh with rippling muscles, the face seemed familiar, short dark brown hair, with icy blue eyes, the jawline strong and prominent. It was as though I was looking into my mirror at home, but with a crazed look in my eyes that I had never seen before.

      “Do you like it?” She whispered in my ear, I jumped, startled.

      “I…uh, yes. It seems…”

      “Seems animalistic, somehow familiar?” She asked.

      “Yes, exactly. It’s like looking in the mirror, did you, I mean is this me?”

      “Well, you don’t remember then? Hmmm, come on in here, maybe you just need a reminder. Sit over there, on the couch.”

      I felt my legs moving towards the couch obeying her command, not really wanting them to listen to her. What I wanted was to turn around and leave, fear was now pushing that heart of mine harder against my ribs. I sat on the couch and there were more paintings of me, surrounding me, and staring down at me as if accusing myself of having done something wrong. She watched as I took it all in, those eyes, I could feel them piercing my thoughts.

      “Would you like a drink?” She asked.

      “I would, but I really should be…”

      “Oh, come on, hon, I have your favorite scotch whiskey.”

      Before I knew what was happening she handed me the snifter of whiskey and the scent of it invaded my senses. I couldn’t resist and took a sip. She sat down next to me on the couch, let her hand fall gracefully between my thighs as she took a sip of her own drink. I wanted to run away, but my body wouldn’t move no matter how much I willed it.

      “Relax, you are so tense, darlin,’” She said.

      “What is goin’ on here? I mean, do you just sit around here painting portraits of me?”

      She laughed and set her drink on the table in front of us, then reached for my drink and sat it down next to hers. Then before I knew it she was straddling me sitting in my lap with her lips pressed firmly against mine. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back exposing her neck and began to bite her neck softly at first, then with increasing intensity until I drew blood. Shocked at the iron taste in my mouth I released her hair and grabbed her legs just behind the delicate knees and stood up with her, kissing each other I turned around and laid her on the couch. I ran my hands up her legs and under her skirt and realized she wasn’t wearing panties. I pushed my fingers into her, wanting to please her.

      “Kyle!” She moaned.

      “You like that?”

      “Yes,” She said.

      I began to get dizzy and felt sick, it must have been the whiskey. I sat up, and held my head in my hands on the opposite end of the couch. She kneeled next to me and I could feel her putting something around my neck. It felt like leather, like a dog collar, with metal studs. She undressed me slowly. Then I heard a click at the back of my neck, she had hooked a leash to my collar.

      “Come on boy, come on.” She said.

      Tugging at my lead, she pulled me to the floor on my hands and knees. She led me into the back room of her studio, it was brightly lit almost blinding me. I crawled next to her feet to the blanket she had spread out on the floor. She took out what looked like a whip.

      “Now, you are gonna be a good boy this time, right?” She asked.

      “Yes, I promise.” I said.

      “That’s my boy, sit there I have work to do. No, not like that, sit up as if you are begging for a bone. That’s better, good boy, sit still now until I tell you to move.”

Biography

 Gina Eairheart is a student currently enrolled at State College of Florida. After a successful career in Architectural and Survey drafting for several years, she felt the need to further my education. Since enrolling in college, she has found out a lot about herself through the educational process. She thoroughly enjoy anything pertaining to the arts, which should have been no surprise due to her background; however, she had for most of my life suppressed the need for creating art and used her talents mostly for crafting as a hobby and undeniably for drafting plans for buildings and their land surveys. She found that writing and creating objects out of clay to be an enlightening experience that she will not soon let go by the wayside. She hopes you enjoy the stories and poems that come from this experience.

  By Gina Eairheart

      I was scrolling through the photos on a dating website one bright and sunny morning when I first saw his photo. I thought wow, what a handsome man and those teeth, so straight and pearly white! So I decided to take a look at his profile, he was into everything I ever wanted in a man, romantic movies, dinners, walks on the beach. A near perfect match for me, I thought to myself. The eloquence of his words in black and white, his grammar and punctuation was perfect. There was not one reason I could see to not reach out to him. So I wrote;

      “Your profile is amazing! I would enjoy chatting with you sometime. -Lorraine”

      He responded almost immediately, with attentive detail.

      “I read your profile just now as well. And you seem to be just the lady I am looking for.  Eternally Yours, Bobby”

      We chatted online for several days in this manner he won me over with his charms and convinced me that I must meet this Bobby guy. And I hoped for the best when he made plans with me to meet him at the beach. We agreed that it should be the perfect setting.

      ###

      I sat there in the sand and watched the sun set over the twinkling water with its orange-red hues, reaching down to me with golden arms as if to wrap me up and hold me tight in the warmth I could already feel on my skin. I let my mind wander off to several different scenarios of what our meeting would be like. Would it be awkward? I wondered, or perhaps we would be so perfectly matched that it would feel like old friends meeting again after 20 years apart? I wasn’t sure of anything and the butterflies began their lazy flight in the pit of my stomach. I placed a firm hand on my belly to quell the involuntary spasms of the muscles there. I had gotten there early as we had decided that taking in the sunset would put me into a relaxed state of mind and make our meeting that much more romantic with just the right amount of longing. It was working, I already felt comfortable and anxious to meet him. My long sensuous legs stretched out and crossed in front of me, bare to the elements due to the jean miniskirt that hid very little of them. I had fixed my hair up into a loose bun with little tendrils falling down in curly strands of blonde hair. My deep blue eyes mimicked the water stretching for miles and miles in front of my view. I felt more alive than I had ever felt and could feel my own heart beat thumping rhythmically against my chest. As the sun went to sleep over the horizon, my heart thumped harder and the anticipation built to extreme highs and fearful lows. What if he is perfect for me, my life could change forever and if he isn’t what he claims to be, will I be so let down that depression consumes me? So I sat there waiting for what seemed like an eternity, perhaps I shouldn’t have come so early. Soon it was dark all around me; the stars came out to whisper their greetings. Twinkling against the darkened sky with their mother, she was the fullest moon possible. We had planned it that way, because a full moon was intoxicating.

      I didn’t hear him walking up behind me.  My senses were overloaded with the beauty of nature and my own anxious thoughts. The blindfold startled me as it wrapped tightly, quickly over my eyes. His voice was high-pitched when he whispered in my ear.

      “Don’t move, don’t scream or I will slit your pretty little throat right here under our blanket of stars. You wouldn’t want to ruin this moment, now would you Lorraine?”

      “No, but what are you doing? Is this you, Bobby?”

      “Yes, it’s me darling, we are going to have a perfect first date darling, I am going to enjoy every minute of it.”

      Then he grabbed my arms at the elbows and pulled me quickly to my feet. He was so strong and I oddly felt turned on and strangely safe. There was something familiar about his voice. Perhaps he reminded me a little of my ex-husband, who I loved so deeply. Until the day the bastard ran off with his red-headed little slut of a secretary. Bobby wrapped a heavy trench coat around my shoulders. Then I felt the metal cuff wrap around my left wrist and heard it click into place, then another click as he placed the other cuff around his right wrist. We were bound together and I could not escape even if I wanted to. We walked back to his car, he then took his cuff off of his own wrist and placed it on my right wrist in front of me and gently put me in the passenger seat of what must have been a sports car because it was low to the ground. I heard every tiny sound as he closed my door, walked around the car and got in the driver’s seat. Filled with anxiety and anticipation I reflected on my last day on earth. Soon I would not be alive anymore. Very soon he would end it all for me, but first he would make love to me. We were satisfying each-others’ needs, I needed to end this depression and he needed to end a life. We drove the back roads as planned until we found a nice little wooded area, miles away from any living human being. I had assured him that I would fight him off and scream for him. I would even manage to cry somehow, although this day was the best day of my pathetic life. Inside I was content as I screamed out in pain, the knife thick with my own blood slicing open my throat, I whispered to him.

      “Thank you.”

Biography

 Gina Eairheart is a student currently enrolled at State College of Florida. After a successful career in Architectural and Survey drafting for several years, she felt the need to further my education. Since enrolling in college, she has found out a lot about herself through the educational process. She thoroughly enjoy anything pertaining to the arts, which should have been no surprise due to her background; however, she had for most of my life suppressed the need for creating art and used her talents mostly for crafting as a hobby and undeniably for drafting plans for buildings and their land surveys. She found that writing and creating objects out of clay to be an enlightening experience that she will not soon let go by the wayside. She hopes you enjoy the stories and poems that come from this experience.