Recruitment Day: Give It Your All

Made a little zine today for a short story I wrote. Here’s the short story for ya. Enjoy.

Aggie was twelve the first time she was called into the recruiting office. Many of her peers had already been called once or twice. But Aggie didn’t possess the gifts that they did. And so she remained unchosen.

Each day she woke with only one hope in mind, to be called to recruiting. She was tired of being left behind. After all, why shouldn’t she take part in the grand ole tradition?

“It’s a beautiful day to be recruited. Don’t you think, Mother?”

“Yes, Aggie. But don’t be so eager. It’s not so terrible to not be chosen,” she would say. This always angered Aggie. Her mother had been recruited so many times now, she was practically sought after.

But the day it finally happened Aggie had not greeted her mother in her usual way. It was raining and she did not think it was a beautiful day. She went to school and sat through True History, Patriotism, and Prosthesis Care before her name was shouted over the intercom.

“Aggie Grey to the recruiting office. Aggie. Grey. Recruiting.”

At first, she thought she was daydreaming. She didn’t move from her seat until the boy next to her whispered, “Aggie…”

“Huh? George, did they really say my name?” she asked. George had an eye patch covering one eye and had to fully turn himself to face her.

“Yes! And you’d better go now.” Everyone was staring at her, including the teacher.

She scrambled out of her seat, tripping over her bag. Her hands shook and her breath caught in her chest.

She didn’t need anyone to show her the way to recruiting. She’d walked past it so many times by now wondering when she would finally be called. She’d imagined this day for so long now but in all of her daydreams she’d never expected to feel so small, so nervous. The walls seemed to bow in towards her as she walked, licking their lips and grinning as they threatened to swallow her up. Then just as her hand reached for the handle of the door, it swung open. Inside she was directed to a windowless office where Dr. Fischer, head of recruitment, sat waiting.

“So. Aggie Grey. This is your first time in recruiting, isn’t it?” he asked, looking over a file in his hand.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well, I’m certain it won’t be your last time here. I can see from your file here that you have a lot of potential to benefit the Patriciate.”

“I hope so, Sir. It is truly an honor.”

He set the file on his desk and extended his good hand towards her. His left sleeve appeared to be hollow.

“I’m Dr. Fischer and I will be coordinating the procedure.”

She shook his hand.

“Sir…”

“You have a question?”

“Well, this is my first time. I’ve done all the reading on recruitment, of course. It’s part of our Patriotism class. But I still don’t really think I know what to expect.”

“You’re nervous, am I right? Everyone is nervous their first time. But you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Can I ask? What will be recruited from me?”

“Of course you can ask, Aggie. In fact, I’ll walk you through the entire process over the next hour or so and then you’ll be taken to medical. Does that sound ok?”

“Yes. Thank you. It seems silly to be nervous. I mean everyone goes through this, right?”

“Well, all of us plebeians do,” he laughed. “No one in the Patriciate has ever been recruited.”

Aggie laughed along with him. It felt good to laugh. It calmed her nerves. This was normal. Everyone went through this. Soon she’d be back with her classmates, just another one of them, having served dutifully.

“And in answer to your question, Aggie, we’ll be taking your eyes. Someone in the Patriciate liked their color so they’re replacing theirs with yours. You’ve gone over learning to live without sight in Prothesis Care, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The End.

Alternate Title: The Eyes of Aggie Grey.

The Endless Doom

Dropping a new short story for y’all called “The Endless Doom”. Let me know what you think. Not proofreading before I drop it. So if you find any glaring mistakes let me know.

The Endless Doom

“Mark, you came into today’s session saying you had big news and now you’re refusing to talk about it. I can’t force you to face your issues, Mark, but if you really want to see improvement, you have to be willing to talk about these things.”

“I know you’re right. It’s just, I don’t know what this means for me and Erika.”

“Well, Mark, what do you want it to mean?”

“I don’t know. Erika is everything I’ve ever wanted but…”

“But what, Mark?”

“She’s… there’s something about her that I…”

“Mark, you have twenty minutes left in today’s session. You can spend the time however you like but I recommend using it to really get to the heart of this issue you have with Erika.”

“Alright… Well, you know I met Erika in the fall…”

Mark met Erika through mutual friends. She was intelligent, beautiful, the life of the party. Mark had always been more reserved, trying hard to fit in wherever he went. He wanted to be liked, and not stand out. But he was immediately drawn to the funny girl with the crooked smile.

Erika, however, was not drawn to Mark. While she debated current politics with a group in the corner, Mark stood close by and just nodded along, never taking his eyes from her face. Erika hardly noticed him.

When their mutual friend Greg excused himself to attend to other guests, Mark and Erika found themselves alone.

“So, what do you do, Mark?”

“Uh, I’m a writer.”

“Oh? Would I have read anything you’ve written?”

“Not unless you’ve read The Endless Doom series.”

“No. What is it?”

“It’s a comic series. I do the writing. Stefan draws.”

“Oh.”

And that was it. Erika gave a weak smile and found an excuse to leave. Mark was a leaf blowing across her path on a windy day. She wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a lineup the next morning.

But for Mark it was entirely different. He’d met a few beautiful and fascinating women but none that consumed his every thought the way Erika did. In the few moments they’d had together at Greg’s party he’d memorized every line of her face, the way she smelled, the lilt of her voice. He was certain he’d never see her again and just as certain that she would occupy every waking moment of his day for weeks to come.

“So, how’s the comic biz?” Greg asked, having returned to the corner after seeing Mark alone. He liked Mark but in the way you like someone you pity.

“Excuse me,” Mark said. He couldn’t make small talk with Greg at that moment. He needed to get somewhere private. He rushed into the bathroom and unzipped. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this hard before and it only took the lightest touch of his hand to find relief. Naturally, he left the party immediately after.

He spent the bus ride home scouring social media, looking for any profile of Erika’s. He looked through their mutual friends’ profiles but turned up nothing. In the end he used an avatar generator he found online to recreate her the way he remembered her. He just wanted to look at her a little while longer.

It was a month later, when he had just begun to think of her less, that he ran into her again. Mark and Stefan were leaving a local comic shop they frequented when Greg and Erika crossed their path one evening.

“Oh my god. This is crazy,” Greg was saying, “I was just telling Erika about your little series. What’s it called again?”

“The Endless Doom.” Mark tried not to stare but he couldn’t help himself.

“You remember Erika?” Greg asked. But he didn’t need to. Of course Mark remembered her. While Stefan introduced himself, Mark reacquainted himself with her features, her scent. He studied her, if only to later improve the look of the avatar he’d created.

“We were just about to go get some Chinese. Do you want to join?” Erika’s voice cut through Mark’s daydreaming. Before he could think, before Stefan could respond…

“Yes!” He smiled and averted his eyes. Had she noticed how he’d been staring?

The four of them went down the street and sat cramped together in a decrepit, old booth eating wontons and drinking beer. Mark found himself talking more than he usually did. Something about being in her presence was absolutely electric. Soon four became three and three became two.

“I don’t remember you being this funny the last time we met,” she said.

“I wasn’t.”

Erika laughed and her voice sounded like pixies skipping on the wind. Mark laughed too. Being with her felt natural and pure.

“You haven’t touched your food,” he said. Mark was right. Erika’s plate was the only one untouched. He was sure he’d seen her eating but there it was.

“I wasn’t really hungry,” she said.

The waitress came with the check and set it firmly on the table, hands on hips.

“You pay now. We closed.”

Mark smiled up at her embarrassed they’d overstayed their welcome and pulled out his wallet to pay. At the same time, Erika reached for her purse.

“Oh no, I got this,” Mark said.

“Such a gentleman,” she gushed. But for just a second Mark wondered if reaching for her purse had just been for show. It didn’t matter. He was here with her, and this was the closest he’d come to being on a date in a very long time.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, getting up from the table. “Wait for me outside?”

“Sure.”

Mark dutifully stood from the table and left the restaurant, wondering where the night would take them. There was a chill in the air, and after ten minutes of waiting he started to think she’d slipped out the back. Fifteen minutes went by and still Erika had not come out. He was on the brink of leaving after waiting a full twenty-one minutes when she rounded the corner of the building from the side alley.

“Geezus! You scared me. I was starting to think you’d left.”

“Sorry,” she said, “I got locked in.”

Mark looked back through the window of the restaurant. A staff member was still mopping the dining room floor. A needle pricked the back of his mind but one look from Erika dulled the sensation.

After that night they began seeing each other often. Erika worked third shift at a hospital so she was always asleep during the day and Mark’s work on The Endless Doom meant he could keep any hours he wanted. So most evenings if Erika wasn’t working, the two of them could be found walking the city streets together, frequenting any place that stayed open late. Mark found himself changing. Being with her brought something out of him that perhaps had always been there, buried. He was more confident, quicker to tell a joke. He started dressing better and even started to wear cologne. Anything he could do to keep Erika coming back for more.

But then one night it happened. At the end of a long night out, Erika excused herself and headed to the back of the restaurant. Just like that first night, and every night since, Mark paid the check and then stood to wait for her outside. He’d grown used to her ordering food she never touched and taking a very long time in the restroom at the end of the night. But this time, she’d forgotten her purse at the table. His first thought was to just take it with him outside. But a nagging feeling, that needle prick again, sent him with the purse through the little curtain in the back that Erika had just disappeared through. What he saw confused and angered him.

Erika was not heading into the restroom, as he’d presumed. She was flirting with a dishwasher and walking out the back door with him. Is this what she’d been doing every night? He couldn’t believe his eyes. Here was this perfect specimen of a woman, going out with him night after night, allowing him to pay for a dinner, never once kissing him goodnight, and now she was heading into the alley with some random dishwasher? It was more than he could take. He decided to follow her.

“Help me to understand,” his therapist interrupted. “You say you saw her go into the alley with this other man, you followed her, and you saw her kissing him?”

“No,” he said, “I said I thought she was kissing him. Except…”

Mark burst through the back door and found the two of them at the other end of the alley. The dishwasher had his back to the wall and Erika was leaning into him, her lips pressed against his throat. As Mark closed in on the pair, he could see Erika’s hands pressed against his shoulders. Her mouth moved across his throat while he moaned.

“What the hell, Erika?”

“Mark!” He’d startled her. And it was only then when she’d pulled away from the dishwasher that Mark saw.

“You saw blood,” his therapist asked.

“Yes.”

“What are you saying, Mark? I’m not sure I’m understanding.”

Relief flooded Mark’s body. The blood dripping from Erika’s lips was a much more welcome sight. She wasn’t kissing him. She was…

“Wait. What’s happening?”

Erika turned back to the dishwasher and wiped the blood from his neck.

“Go back inside, Diego. I’ll see you next week.”

Diego, for his part, did exactly as he was told, though clumsily as if in a daze.

“Mark,” Erika pleaded, wiping blood from her lips, “Please let me explain.”

And that was how they spent the rest of the night. They walked through the city together while Erika explained to Mark what he’d seen and a few other things about herself that she’d been keeping from him.

“Mark, you don’t seriously expect me to believe Erika is a vampire, do you?” His therapist had removed her glasses and was now rubbing her temples. “Surely, all of this is some kind of role play for her.”

But that is exactly what Mark had said to Erika.

“You don’t really expect me to believe you’re a vampire, do you? This has to be some kind of kink thing, right?”

“This is who I am, and who I have been for more than a century. Diego is one of my familiars. I have several around the city that allow me to feed. I haven’t killed anyone in a very long time. I find it easier to stay in one place if I don’t leave a string of bodies in my wake.”

Mark considered this. He wasn’t sure if he believed her completely but so many things about her made more sense when viewed in this light. She never ate. She never left her apartment before sunset. She had no social media presence at all. She wouldn’t even allow him to take a photograph of her. Then there was the way he’d always been inexplicably drawn to her. Had she put him under some kind of spell?

“So what does that make me? Am I a familiar?”

“You’re my boyfriend, silly.” Erika smiled and looped her arm through his as they continued to walk. “A familiar has no choice. Once I’ve set my sights on someone, they are under my control until I release them. I keep familiars around for food. I never put you under any spell and I’ve never fed off of you.”

“Boyfriend.” He liked the sound of that. “Ok, but how can I be your boyfriend? We’ve never even kissed, Erika.”

She stopped walking and looked into his eyes.

“I know, Mark. I was afraid.”

Her? Afraid? She was easily the most confident woman he’d ever known. She was so far out of his league he never even bothered to tell people he was seeing her. He didn’t think anyone would believe him. And now she’d just revealed that she was a powerful non-human entity. What did she have to be afraid of?

“I was afraid that if I kissed you, you’d fall under my spell and become just another familiar. You’re with me because you want to be, not because you have to be. I didn’t want to lose that.”

He stared deeply into her eyes. He thought about the first time they’d met at Greg’s party. He’d never been more drawn to someone. He’d been so completely consumed by her that he’d had to go into the bathroom to masturbate just so he could relieve himself of a painful erection. He was embarrassed just thinking about it. But now he realized that perhaps it wasn’t his fault. Perhaps it was just the supernatural allure she possessed. Thinking about it now, he wasn’t sure if he was really attracted to her at all, or if it was just a spell she’d unintentionally cast on him. There was only one way to know.

He leaned in and kissed her.

“So?” his therapist asked. “What happened?”

“I’m not her familiar,” Mark said with a smile. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“So you’ve decided to embrace this then?”

“I think so. The real issues is… What I wanted to bring up…”

“Mark, your time is almost up.”

“She asked me to move in with her.”

“This is what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes,” he sighed, having finally gotten it out. “It would be a huge step for me. Like I said, she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But she’s…”

“She’s a vampire. Or at least thinks she is a vampire. And this is what is holding you back?”

“Yes.” He relaxed. It was hard to talk about this, but it seemed his therapist was beginning to understand the problem. “I’m already somewhat of a night owl, so it isn’t really her sleep schedule I’m worried about. But if I move in with her, am I going to have to put up with familiars there? Also, every window in her apartment is covered to block out the sun. I’m not exactly a morning person but I like a little light through the window. So I’ll miss that. And I don’t know if I can even have Stefan over to her place to work on The Endless Doom. I don’t know it’s just a lot to consider.”

Mark’s therapist looked at her watch.

“We’re ten minutes over, Mark. Let’s circle back to this next week, okay?”

“Ok. I think I might say yes. But I don’t know yet. We can talk about it next week.”

Under The Eyepatch

Ok, so my short story based on your comments didn’t get accepted by the magazine I submitted it to.  Wah.

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But it’s a win for you because now I get to post it here.  I had so much fun writing the story that I’ll probably write some more and keep submitting them for publication and see what happens.  Anyway, without any further ado… Under The Eyepatch:

(The words left in the comments by you are in all caps.)

***

Garret Randall Nehring lived and worked in a small clock repair shop on East Street, the shop being downstairs and the living space, up.  It was evening.  The moon had already risen in the black, cloudless sky and he made his usual rounds on the lower floor, checking the locks on the windows and doors.  Click, click, click.  Three turns each.  He quickly examined every bar over the windows and the long bar across the door frame, front door and back.  He was behind schedule tonight.  He rubbed his wrists nervously, worsening the rash he’d previously made by rubbing.

Why had that woman come in at closing? He walked through the show floor of the shop in a perfect circle, visually inspecting each clock on display as he did.  The moon is already out and I’m not finished.  It’s inexcusable.  Everything appeared to be in perfect order.  He quickly made his way upstairs.  Any moment now The Revelry would begin and he desperately needed to have his ear plugs in before.

In the bathroom, he brushed, brushed, brushed and flossed, flossed, flossed.  Three times each.  Always three.  He carefully inspected the eyepatch covering his left eye.  How often he had wished he had a second patch to cover his right.  Symmetry.  But that line of thinking often led to wondering why so many things came in twos instead of threes.  He was late tonight, however, and could not indulge himself in pointless contemplation.  He quickly wiped down the bathroom surfaces and shuffled off to his bedroom.  The Revelry hadn’t begun yet; he may still have time.

He reached into his bedside table and retrieved a new pair of ear plugs, wrapped tightly in plastic.  Elation.  He would make it.  He let himself feel a modicum of joy as he opened the plastic bag.  Small victories really do give one so much pleasure, he mused.  A tiny smile spread across his face.

Bang, bang, bang.

His smile disappeared.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Hello?”  It was definitely a female voice.  She sounded youngish.

“Hello?  I see your light on.  I need help.”  She was at the back door.

And this is why I should never let customers in at closing time, he thought to himself.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Please, The Revelry is going to start any second.  Please, open the door,” she called out loudly.

“I’m coming,” Nehring said with a sigh.  He threw the ear plugs into a nearby trash receptacle, fastened his robe securely and shuffled back downstairs.

*

Nehring stood a few feet away from the back door, located in his workshop.  Scowling, he attempted to peer through the bars over the window, trying to see who was banging so loudly.

“Hello?” the girl said.  She was young, just as he’d thought.  Fourteen?  Fifteen?  In the darkness her light blue eyes were almost all he could make out of her face.  Something about them…

“Are you going to let me in?”

Sirens.  The Revelry had begun.  The girl began to hyperventilate.

“That’s the siren,” she said between breaths, “Let me in. Let me in.”

“Aren’t you kind of young to be out this late at night?” was all Nehring said.

“I got lost on my way home and then it got dark and I realized The Revelry would be starting soon but I don’t know where I am or how to get home from here and then I saw your light on and I thought you could help me and please,” she said all in one breath.  Nehring tilted his head slightly, still trying to gain a view of the young lady outside the door.  Finally, with a heavy sigh, he gave up and crossed the last few feet to the door.  Click, click, click.  He turned the lock and unbarred the door.

“Come in, I suppose,” he offered weakly, pushing the door open.  And before he’d even realized what was happening, the young girl was swinging a shotgun up from her side, gripping it tightly and pointing it in his face.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said grinning.

“Wonderful,” Nehring muttered, raising his hands in the air.

“In,” she said gesturing with the gun, the smile disappearing from her face.  With a heavy sigh, Nehring turned around and began walking through his workshop toward the front of the building, more annoyed than frightened.  The girl quickly circled around, keeping the gun aimed directly at him.  She gestured and pointed until they arrived at the small kitchen.  She nodded toward a kitchen chair.

“Sit.”

Nehring sat.  He let out another heavy sigh.  Surely she could sense his annoyance by now.  A moment later, two men appeared in the kitchen doorway, each carrying two empty duffle bags.  One man was tall and heavy set, he looked as though he could have been a boxer in another life.  The other was shorter and small, his clothes were too big for him and he seemed to be full of nervous energy.  The girl nodded to them.

“You got the ROPE?” she asked.  The small one produced a rope from the folds of an oversized coat.  He grinned from ear to ear as he tied Nehring tightly to the chair.

She eyed the large one, “Did you secure the door?”

“Secured.”

“Excuse me,” Nehring broke in, “but who are you and what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” the large one sneered.

“Argh, MATEY.  We be PILLAGIN’ and PLUNDERIN’ yer shop,” said the small one, letting out a high pitched peal of laughter not unlike a six-year-old girl.

Nehring furrowed his brow, “You’re what?”

The small one looks something like a lizard, he thought, His face is pointy.  I’ll call him Lizard.

Lizard grinned and pointed at his eye, then at Nehring.

“I see. My eyepatch.  How clever.”

Lizard let out another peal of laughter.

He has as much intelligence as a lizard too.

The large one slapped Lizard on the back of the head to shut him up.  Lizard frowned and rubbed his sore skull but was none-the-less grinning again a moment later.

“You two know what to do,” the girl said, “Get to it.”

“C’mon, Squid,” the large one said and the two of them headed out into the shop.

Squid.  Well, I wasn’t too far off, was I? Nehring smiled at his own thoughts.  He was quite witty, if he did say so himself.

“Why are you smiling? Stop that,” said the girl, breaking into his thoughts.

Nehring frowned.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know smiling was against the rules.”

Crash.

High pitched laughter.

“Squid! Quit messin’ around.”

The two men could be heard clearly from the kitchen and it seemed they were determined to break everything in the shop.  Nehring felt his heart go into palpitations and he tried to steady his breathing, knowing his perfectly ordered shop was being destroyed.

“Do they have to break everything?” he asked the girl.

Silence.

“Do you plan to tell me what this is all about?”

“Shut up.”

*

The large one and Squid returned a little while later, duffle bags, presumably full of valuables, in each hand.

“We took all the good stuff but I gotta tell you, Norry, there wasn’t much.  I thought you said this place would pay off,” the large one said.  The girl made no answer.  She sat awkwardly on the edge of the kitchen table, staring off into space.

“Norry.”

Silence.

“Norretta!”

The girl snapped back from whatever dream world she had been in.

“Sorry, Tank.  What did you say?”

Tank, Nehring thought, How comically appropriate. He made sure not to smile this time.

“I said this place didn’t pay off like you said it would.  What’s wrong with you anyway,” Tank replied.

“Nothing.  I’m fine,” she said, “I guess I just got bad information.”  She jumped down from the kitchen table and walked over to the window, peering out into the dark night sky.

“It’s too dark to leave.  The Revelers will still be out.  We need to wait until dawn.”

Squid pulled a knife from somewhere inside his vast coat and began cleaning his fingernails enthusiastically.  “What are we going to do with this POPPET?” he said grinning again and gesturing to Nehring.

“Nothing,” the girl said.

“Nothing? He’s seen our faces,” Tank said, “He knows our names.”

“If it helps any, I could care less,” Nehring offered, “I just want my shop cleaned up.”

The girl pointed a finger at Nehring, “You, shut up.”  To Tank she said, “Nothing is happening to him right now because we can’t leave yet and I don’t want to stare at a BLOODY mess for the next few hours.”

Squid pocketed the knife and pulled out a bit of twine he had tucked away.  “It doesn’t have to be bloody, CUPCAKE.  I know how to be clean and quiet.”  For just a moment, Nehring was almost afraid.

“No,” she said, raising the shotgun again, this time aiming it at Squid and then Tank.  “Nothing happens to him until I decide.  It’s my call.  Understand?”  No one moved or made a sound.  “Good.  Now, each of you take a door and stand watch.  When it’s time to end this, I will end it.”  Still, no one moved.  The men eyed the gun and the girl, mulling over what she’d said.  Eventually, Tank picked up the duffle bags he’d carried in and headed out of the room towards the front door.  Squid shrugged, grinned and followed, leaving his duffle bags behind.  A moment later, he returned.

“You got anything to eat?”

“SOUP.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes,” Nehring said.  Squid smiled, raising his eyebrows in anticipation.

“More soup.”  His smile quickly faded.

“BANANAS,” Squid muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I. Don’t. Like. Soup.” he said through gritted teeth.  The knife made an unexpected return.  He jabbed it into the wall and dug a jagged trench through it as he walked out.

“Why did you let him do that?!?” Nehring screamed, “Oh, I’m gonna be sick.  I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”

“Would you shut up? It’s just a wall,” the girl said.

“Well, excuse me but I didn’t ask to be tied up and have my home destroyed, did I?  I’m dying.  I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.  It’s just a wall.  Shut up.”

“I am dying.  My heart is racing.  I’m going to throw up.  I’m dying.  I’m dying.  I’m dying.”

And that was when Nehring was gagged.

*

The girl stood by the kitchen window staring out into the darkness for almost two hours before abruptly saying, “Does the name ‘Tibby’ mean anything to you?”

Nehring said nothing.  He couldn’t.

“Oh, right, the gag.  Sorry.”  She crossed the room and removed the gag from his mouth.

A barely audible, “Water,” came from Nehring.  She opened several cabinet doors before finding a glass and filling it will tap water.

“What was the question?” he managed with a raspy voice after taking a drink.

“Does the name ‘Tibby’ mean anything to you?”

“More water, please,” he said, “And, yes, it does.”  After another drink he added, “She used to work for me.”

“That’s it?  She worked for you?  Nothing else?”

“We were close.”

“But she did more than just work for you, right?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long?  How long ago was it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “I’d say 16 or 17 years now.  Why do you want to know?”

“I have my reasons.  What’s under your eyepatch?” she asked, changing the subject.

“An eye.  Why are you asking about Tibby?” he countered.

“I said I have my reasons.  Why are you wearing an eyepatch?”  Nehring could see this was going nowhere.

“Why did you choose the night of The Revelry to rob me?  There are much less dangerous nights, you know.”

“I have reasons for that too.”  Nehring sighed.  This had been a very trying night.  He cleared his throat.

“Can I have another drink of water?  I’ll tell you all about Tibby.”  The girl leaned down and gave him a drink, sizing him up.

“Tibby was my apprentice, of sorts,” he said, “But not in clock repair.  I started repairing clocks after…  Anyway, when she was my apprentice we grew very close.  I think that I… well, I know that I… loved her.  I don’t know if she loved me but I like to think she did.  Something happened.  I was injured.  I sustained a head injury, actually, and after that I… changed.  The change was too much for her.  She left and I haven’t seen her since.  And that was 17 years ago, or thereabouts.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?  That’s all you have to say?”

She stared out of the window again for a few minutes.

“What’s under your eyepatch?”

“Oh, for crying out –“ Nehring started to say but was interrupted by Tank entering the kitchen.

“There are Revelers out front.  Should I take care of them?” he said.

“No,” said the girl, “Just turn off as many lights as you can.  They’ll get bored and leave.”

Bang, bang, bang.

“That came from the back door,” Nehring said, “You idiots left all the lights on and now we’re surrounded by Revelers.  Did you at least relock and bar the doors?”

“Let us in!” a loud male voice yelled through the back door.  Drunken laughter erupted from the other Revelers.  A moment later Squid appeared in the kitchen doorway, knife in hand, picking his teeth.

“I don’t like this, Norry,” he said, “Stuck in this house all night, nothing to eat, and now Revelers banging down the door.  I don’t like this at all.”  He stuck the knife into the kitchen table, nearly giving Nehring a heart attack.

“I say we unlock the back door and go out the front,” Tank said, “The Revelers will come in here and take care of him for us.  Nice and neat, no mess.”

“I don’t know, Tank.  I was kinda looking forward to that part,” Squid said, pulling the knife out of the table.

The girl looked back and forth between Tank and Squid and then at Nehring.

She stared hard into his good eye, “What’s under your eyepatch?”

“Do you really think this is the best time to be asking that?!?” he yelled.

She searched his face again, “Nehring, we don’t have time for this.  What is under your eyepatch?”

“How do you know my name?  I never told you my name.”

Tank and Squid exchanged looks.  Something was going on.

“Tibby is my mother.  She had me 16 years ago.  I never met my father, until… Tell me what’s under your eyepatch!”

“Tibby’s your mother?”

“Yes!”

“You’re 16?

“Yes!”

Squid broke into the conversation, “Why does it matter if she’s 16 or not?”  He looked at the girl, “Norry, how do you know this guy?  What’s going on?”

The girl looked back and forth between Tank and Squid.

“Nehring, what’s under your eyepatch?!” she said, “I need to know. Now.”

“Exactly what you think is there.”

The girl wasted no time, she ducked behind Nehring, grabbing a chunk of his hair and pulling up the eyepatch as she did.  She aimed Nehring’s head first at Tank as a blinding flash of light burst forth from Nehring’s left eye socket, reducing Tank to a smoldering pile of ashes in a moment’s time.  Squid dropped the knife and tried to run but he was stopped by the light and joined his friend Tank on the floor.  She let go of Nehring’s hair and replaced the eyepatch before coming out from behind the chair.

“You’re real,” she said.

“I am,” he said, “I didn’t know about you.”

“I know.”

They stared silently at each other for a moment taking in all they had just learned and experienced.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Yoo-hoo?” the loud male voice called out again from the back door, “Let us in or we’re coming in!”

“Revelers,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, “What is your name again?”

“Norry.  Well, really Norretta but everyone calls me Norry.”

“Norretta, I’m Garret Randall Nehring.  Pleased to meet you.  Do you think you could untie me?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.”  She grabbed the knife from the place where Squid had dropped it and cut the ropes away from the chair to which Nehring was tied.  He stood slowly, rubbing the places on his arms and torso where the rope had been.

“Right. Revelers.  I’ll take care of them,” he said.  He marched over to the back door in the workshop trying very hard to ignore the mess he saw all around him.  Once there, he placed a hand on either side of the door, closed his good eye, breathed in deeply and said in a loud, low voice, “Go. Away.”  A strange calm fell over the whole place.  Norry looked out the window and gasped as she witnessed all of the Revelers casually walk away from the building.

“That was amazing!” she beamed as they walked back to the kitchen.  They carefully avoided the two piles of ashes in the kitchen doorway and sat down at the table. Nehring positioned his chair so he couldn’t see the mess behind him.

“Yes, well, I probably should have done that when you came to the door, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Oh, right.  I’m sorry about all of that.  I didn’t really know anything about you except the few things Mom told me and they always sounded like fairy tales.  I figured I needed some strong back up if I was going to meet you.”

“Uh huh.  I think your planning skills need a little work, my dear.  How did you find those two morons, anyway?”

“Tank and Squid?  Oh, I’ve been working with them for a few months now doing jobs.”

“Jobs?  You mean you’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“Not by choice.  See, Mom went missing about 6 months ago.  It was on a night of Revelry.  She left work late and never came home.  I went to the police but they were no help.  Crimes that happen during Revelry can’t be prosecuted.  I ended up in a shelter and that’s where I met Tank and Squid.  They sort of took me under their wing, you know, protected me, but only in exchange for helping them rob and hurt people.  I didn’t like it.”

“So how did you end up at my doorstep?”

“Well, even without help from the police or really anyone, I kept trying to find out what happened to Mom.  I found out she’d been kidnapped by a group of Revelers who keep her locked up until the night of The Revelry each month.  They discovered her ‘abilities’ and now they bring her out each month to do magic for them like a performing monkey.  I’ve tried and tried to figure out where they keep her locked up but I can’t.  But I know where they make her perform each month.  The catch is, I’m not strong enough to rescue her myself.  And I remembered all the stories Mom had told me about you and…”

“I see.  So you want my help?  Why didn’t you just ask those two to help you?” he said, gesturing behind him.

“They’re terrified of Revelers.  Or, I guess they were, before I incinerated them with your eye.”

“Yes, that’s another thing we need to discuss.”

“Let’s save it for another time.  It’s going to be sunup soon and the Revelers will put Mom back wherever they put her for another month.  I know where she is right now. Will you help me?  Will you help me rescue my mom?”

Nehring looked hard into the face of the daughter he hadn’t known he had.  Her eyes were so much like her mother’s, light blue with a fire behind them.  He suddenly wondered why he hadn’t recognized her as Tibby’s daughter right away, she was practically the spitting image of her mother.

“Of course I’ll help you.  But afterwards you’re going to help me clean up this mess.”

***

New Song and Such

Wrote a song the other day.  Used my high tech phone gadget to record it.  I actually have an awesome computer for recording now, I just have to figure out how to do it.  Anyway, here is the link to the song:

Teach Me Holy Spirit

I’m kinda thinking I need to record more of my songs and post them.  I have almost 50 songs now and only a sprinkling of them are on here.

Also, for those of you who commented your “word” to me for my short story, the short story is finished.  It’s called “Under The Eyepatch” and I liked it so much I submitted it to a sci-fi/fantasy magazine.  They do online submissions so I’ll hear back very quickly whether or not they will accept it.  If they DO accept it, I will find a way to let you read it somehow but I won’t be able to post it on my blog because they will have first publishing rights.  If they reject the story, I will immediately post it on my blog for you to enjoy.  So honestly, it’s a win/win.  Or maybe even a win/win/win. (That obscure reference was for you, Kayla Martin.)

I love you all.  I also love kittens.  Kittens are the best.  I’ll leave you with a picture of my kitty for your viewing pleasure.

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