“Give me those!” Torin snatched the binoculars from Georgi’s hands and immediately put them up to his eyes. “Is that it?” He asked.

“Yup!” Georgi jumped into the cherry red convertible bypassing the door. Torin frowned rebuking his feet on the white leather seats. “Go!” Georgi pointed down the long stretch of highway leading to the dock.

Georgi slammed the magazine into his handgun then busted a couple of rounds into the air. Torin increased his speed knowing that what goes up must come down.

“You know how long I’ve waited on this! That ship holds our future! Onward!” He stood up, one hand holding the windshield and the other waving his gun, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Georgi, this whole thing makes me uncomfortable, the two of us robbing a cargo ship carrying diamonds from Tasmania. I had too much whiskey when I agreed to this.” Torin pulled the car over.

A loud blast echoed across the ocean. The boat quickly began to sink. Georgi jumped from the car, exited his clothing and ran towards the water.

“No! Georgi, come back!” Torin tried to stop his friend.

The evening news reported a suspicious explosion causing the demise of seafood ship, no mention of Georgi.

Torin wept as he read the ticks at the bottom of the television screen. A slight tap on his sliding glass door startled him. A tired, wet and alive Georgi stood smiling on the other side. “What? You thought I was dead? I swim with the strength of ten Moby Dicks!” He grinned then spit a diamond from his mouth, both men began to cry as they stared at the gem in Georgi’s hand. “I told you that boat was loaded!”

As a child, she despised the fluorescent green jacket with reflective safety stripes that hugged his body. His uniform embarrassed her though she never missed a meal and always had a roof over her head. His hard work paid for the tuition that her academic abilities couldn’t cover, yet her father was a blemish on her life.

She left home as soon as she was able and never looked back. Four years had passed, with her Bachelor’s degree in hand, she prepared herself for medical school.

“We did it!” Marva shouted as her entire class tossed their caps into the air.

Once the crowd began to disperse, she heard someone calling her name. “Marva,” his southern drawl made her head swim. She hadn’t invited anyone to join in on her special day.

“Marva,” he moved quickly in her direction. She caught a glimpse of his coat and then his teethy smile, both disgusted her. She groaned, stomped and turned to face him. The same green jacket, with the same familiar stench sent her fingers immediately to her nose, pinching it shut, she spoke. “I didn’t want you here!” Her voice, nasally and annoying, pierced his ears.

The old man hung his head. “You always cared more about what people thought than you did your own family,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out a key fob. The silver emblem put a smile on her face and a gleam in her eye. She looked across the parking lot, a giant red bow sat atop a luxury coupe.

“For me?” She reached for the keys.

He paused. “I love you Marva but you can’t get another dime from this old garbage man!” He retracted his gift and hobbled away.

It seems like yesterday, climbing up in the old guys lap. His arm around my little body, his giant hand resting on my thigh. It took my whole hand to hold his thumb. Leaning back on his chest, I knew what was coming next. “Flora May, I’m going to tell you a story.” His tone was gruff.

The dishes would stop clanking, Granny’d wipe her hands on her apron and sit down at the kitchen table. She was an even bigger fan of Pa than I was…maybe.

“Good overcomes bad.” That’s how his stories always began.

I’d stare at my reflection inside his glasses. This time I noticed small stems of blood traveling rapidly towards his pupils forming what looked like the trunk of a tree. A thick white mucus floated beneath his eyelids. He fumbled his words and shakily sat me down on the hardwood floor.

My grandmother ran to pick me up but he forbid her.

“The circle hasn’t been broken.” That’s all he said. He took her by the hand and led her out into the night. I was left alone until morning.

The sun’s crackling rays sent a fervent heat across the land. My grandparents engulfed, hung from ropes. A last attempt to rid me of the sin into which I was born.

I traveled by foot to find my place in this world but it wasn’t long until I wound up in the fire myself. Now I’m just wondering if you could take those keys and let me out of this hell? Oh… wait.. Maybe you don’t have that authority.

Her blotchy red skin highlighted the tears as they journeyed down her face. She smacked the paint brush from his hand as he swiped another black strand of hair onto the featureless beauty who had now overtaken the canvas.

He turned abruptly to face Karin, his older girlfriend, they had dated on and off for the past year. He dropped his color palette onto the floor and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Her balled fists struggled to beat upon his chest. “I hate you!” She whimpered. Out of breath, she gave in to his plea for her to stop.

“That was my cliff, my ocean! You had no right to muddy my masterpiece with that damsel.” She looked up at Bo.

Revealing his smooth yet bulky chest, he removed his tight black t-shirt and wiped her eyes with it.

“Karin.” The way he said her name gave her goosebumps. “Together we can be legendary.” He gripped her wrists, and spun her around to face the painting. He spoke in a whisper, his breath tickled her neck until finally his lips touched her shoulders – following his hands as they peeled away her blouse. She moaned until her opened mouth was no longer able to produce sound.

“I’m going to be late for my exhibition.” She gently pushed him away. “You can’t make a name for yourself by scribbling on my brilliance.” Her heels raised from the floor as she quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe in another lifetime.” She winked. “I can’t continue on with this masquerade.”

She stood by the window gazing down at a young woman who glared back. “I believe your ride is here.” She mischievously grinned.

“Hell’s bells! Roosters out again,” Florence, old and aching, limped to the window, forgetting her cane, she held to the couch for security.

It wasn’t the first time Doug and Flo’s dragon had escaped though they’d been warned by the sheriff, if it happened again, it’d be the last.

Doug cranked his old pickup – coughing, he paused to catch his breath. His health was deteriorating.

Speeding, he made it to Rooster, witnessing him hiss a fireball towards the police station. Doug covered his wrinkled eyes as the front of the building collapsed sending shards of shrapnel every direction. Uniformed men scattered from the building, drawing their weapons, shots rang out. Rooster’s wings knocked them off their feet as he glided through the air.

Landing on the hood of Doug’s truck, they tearfully locked eyes. “Why’d you do it, boy?”

Rooster wished for the cops to kill him instead of enduring the pain the end of the elderly couple’s lives would bring.

He realized his selfishness as bullets ricocheted off his torso. Death was upon him but not before he repaid his parents for their unconditional love.

Rooster reached his beak into the shattered windshield and gently lifted Doug. He yelped, picking up speed as he carried him home.

Flo cried out to her baby. “Rooster!”

Rooster placed Doug on the ground and then laid his head next to the couple, nudging them to board his body.

He took off, forcefully dodging law enforcement’s attacks. He needed to get Flo and Doug back to the lair in which he was born.

Rooster laid Doug and Flo at the feet of the Dragon Doctor, having him withdraw his magic to cast a spell upon Doug and Flo – giving them eternal life.

The end.. or not..

The scorched gravel scraped her bony elbows as she dragged herself across the rugged desert floor. Beads of sweat blurred her already distorted vision. The earth’s fever formed lines of cloudiness.

The engine of the classic Mach One revved. “Woo, hoo! Look at her crawl.” Bubba Taylor and Scotty Fierce were drunker than cooter brown. They sped off, burned rubber in the middle Route 50 and headed back to taunt the girl from trailer six. She’d lived only yards away from them for years.

“Awwh Darla, get in the car. It’s a misunderstanding,” Scotty climbed through the window, sat on the seal, crossed his arms on the roof and laid his head down – only for a split second before the hot metal grabbed ahold of him. “Look what you did,” he swung around, his bare feet hit the concrete, his belt swung from his unbuttoned jeans, shirtless, he hopped towards her.

“Darla,” he sang.

Breathless, the half-naked young woman struggled to move before she felt his foot on her back. “Come on!” he inhaled deeply to produce a wad of phlegm, combining it with the blood and other bodily fluids that tangled her stringy brown hair.

“Leave her!” Bubba yelled. “They’ll find her when them boys from the Sheriff’s department start community service in the morning.”

Bubba cranked the radio, hitting the steering wheel to the beat of Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Scotty placed his other foot on Darla’s back. He jumped up and down, moaning loudly until her body completely collapsed.

“Garbage,” he placed his big toe in the corner of her eye-socket, digging his nail around until blood oozed.

The sun began to set, coyotes howled in agreement with the approaching night.

“You’ll make a fine meal,” he laughed.

Their shoes slid across the gravel. “Woah,” Franco held his hand out to stop his best friend, Kian. “Something isn’t right.” 

The vendors on Market Street had disappeared leaving their goods unattended.

Kian began to excitedly rummage through the merchandise. “Franco, the silver plate your mother always admires when we come to town. We should take it for her.”

“No!” Franco snatched the plate from Kian’s hand. “What my mother would want is for us to always be good boys.”

Dark clouds rolled back, revealing the moon much brighter than usual having awkwardly overtaken the sun at mid-day’s hour.

A loud scratching noise came from above, filling the air from both sides of the street. Franco pulled his friend into a shop. “Get down,” he said. The two ducked behind a rack draped with colorful garments. 

“The Diurnal Wolves, remember the story?” Kian said. “The moon bright in the day, the shops empty, the town’s folk abducted by werewolves.”

“Not abducted, Kian. At the turn of the century when the daytime’s moon is full, our people permanently change into Day Wolves but it’s all make-believe,” Franco tried to calm his young friend. 

“The moon,” Kian pointed. “The empty streets, what else could it be?” 

The scraping noise ceased as subtle howls filled the air. Franco folded his hands in prayer. Day Wolves suddenly swooped down from the rooftops of the trade huts, latching on to the boys with their claws and fangs.

Two massive wolves strutted ahead; vibrant cultural throws hung from their teeth swinging back and forth with each step they took. A small, bloody arm fell from inside one of the cloths, thick dark hair grew rapidly from it. The boys, now reborn, were presented to the Pack Mother to begin their new journey through life.

“Put this on.” Junior tossed an orange helmet towards his older brother, slammed the trunk to his convertible Jaguar and then reached into the driver’s side window to get his black duffle bag.

Winston held his head down. “I don’t understand… understand… understand…”

“Don’t start with that nonsense!” Junior swung the bag over his shoulder and took off towards the rocks. “Skeletor’s mound.” He sighed. “When’s the last time they brought us here?” Junior pretended to cast a make-believe fishing rod as he stared across the deep rippling waters occupied by a lone sailboat.

Winston lifted his shoulders and held them there as the zipper loudly separated the teeth of the bag. 

“Get down before they see you!” Junior ducked and directed Winston with a quick motion of his gloved hand. He raised the antenna of a small black box. His forehead crinkled as he exhaled. “You’re going to do this.” He said. 

“No, no, no.” Three times was usually the max repetition for Winston. “No, no, no.” He continued.

“Cry-baby!” Junior pushed his brother backwards causing a few rocks to tumble and splash into the lake. 

A man moved closer to the edge of the boat’s deck and waved towards the boys, soon a woman joined him. 

“Now!” Junior screamed, pressing the controller into his brother’s chest.  

“Noooo!” Winston, with his hands in his coat pockets, rammed past Junior, knocking him down and onto the device. The boat exploded, sending flames and debris flying. 

“Oh crap….. You made me do this! You’re responsible for the deaths of our parents!” Junior paced.

Winston began to cry.

“We go home, act normal, and wait for the lawyers to contact us about our inheritance. Most importantly, do as I say!” He patted Winston’s back. “Good job, baby.” Junior fist-bumped the air.

My mother passed away in October of last year. Her older brother passed away Monday. She and her siblings were very close. I can just imagine them back together again.

She climbed from the boat. The calming smell from the rain summoned her. She waded to the shore. She didn’t need her walker or cane, her legs were strong, her mind was sharp. Only the happiest times flooded her memory. She stopped to pick up a flattened gold stone. Its value meant nothing. She turned and with a flick of the wrist sent it skipping across the water, the waves rippled into a sweet melody. She listened for a moment and then hummed along with the hymn. 

Another boat approached, nearly six months out, but she could see it, there was no strain on her eyes. She had no need for the glasses she once wore. “Row! You can row! You have the strength of a million horses. Hurry and come to me.” She called out.

“Darling.” The sweet sound of her mother’s voice stole her focus. “I promised we’d meet again in the sweet bye and bye.”

She laid her head on her mother’s bosom.

Her father stood inches away with a slight grin, taking in the loving reunion. “Your brother will be here soon.” He reached for a jewel covered stick and headed towards the mountain. “Come.” He said. “See the place he has prepared for you.”

She strolled down the sidewalk, bumping into the fence a time or two. Tiny sparks flickered before her eyes. She breathed deeply. “I’m a strong woman.”

The lighthouse seemed much smaller; the cliff, not as steep as twenty-one years ago when he proposed. He’d pointed to the stars, explained the galaxies, daunted over the moon and then dropped to one knee. She said yes.

The two were destined for happiness.

“One day, I’ll be up there.” He spoke from the heart, but she never believed it would happen, until it did.

He’d missed their anniversary, their daughter’s sixteenth birthday, and Christmas. Now with the promise of his return from orbit, she cringed at the thought of his touch. Two hundred and ninety days trapped, and alone with another woman in Outer-Space. She was no fool.

The water jumped from the sea as the capsule made its landing, bobbing through the mighty waves, boats swarmed Hitlon’s chosen Spacecraft, Arson-X.

She sat crying on a park bench where the two had shared many kisses. She reread the divorce papers she intended to present to her husband upon reunification. 

She sighed, recalling the birth of their child – the first of many memories that would soften her heart. She tore the documents into a million pieces, tossed them and watched as they flurried over the water.

Together again, in their own home, the couple held one another tightly. “Finally, I’ll be able to sleep.” He said. “What were those white particles that fell from the sky?” His forehead wrinkled.

“Confetti, so you’d know I was there.” She laid her head on his bare chest.

Some secrets are best kept.