Rhett sat down on the couch, holding the remote, flipping through the channels. Margot paced in front of the television. The old wooden set held a framed photo of the two taking their vows. “I’m sorry, Rhett. I didn’t mean to throw your breakfast plate. It slipped. But I’m no fool.” Over-easy eggs formed a hardened, golden mess down the crème-colored wall.

She stopped, blocking his view of the screen. He moved his head from side-to-side with no chance of looking past her. He placed the remote down on the coffee table, leaned back, crossed his arms. He stared at the ceiling, then let out a sigh. “What aren’t you a fool about this time?” Rhett asked.

“I heard all the nasty names your mother referred to by when the two of you were on the phone last week. She’s loud, I heard everything!” Margot moved closer to Rhett. His face reddened with each step she took.

“For the last time, she didn’t! I wouldn’t lie to you! I’m sick of your delusional accusations!” He yelled.

“What’re you going to do?” She cried. She climbed onto his lap, forcing her lips against his.

“I’ll never leave you! Please stop!” He gently pushed back, begging her. Their tears mixed, the argument transformed into passion.

He looked at his peacefully sleeping wife. He slid from under the covers and hurried to make a phone call. “I don’t understand, doctor! You diagnosed her manic-depressive, now you call it bipolar! A new name should have a new treatment! You offer me nothing!” He yelled loudly, waking Margot.

“You’re telling your mother that I’m crazy?” I hate you!” Margot scratched at her own skin.

“Margot!” Rhett slammed the phone down.

“I’m sorry! Don’t leave me!” She pleaded.

The spacious formal living room allowed the guests to twirl to the sound of melodic Christmas music. Tall glasses of champagne glistened, reflecting the chandelier’s light. Laughter and chatter filled the room, it was impossible for an unjolly soul to be in attendance. 

The crowd ceased movement, gasping as a man in black tights and a jeweled mask slid down the spiral banister that led from the hosting families’ living quarters. He landed gracefully on his tiptoes before springing into a Grand Jete. 

“Bravo.” the party goers cheered at his skill and preciseness.  He performed for only a few moments. The last part of his act, a pirouette, was nothing less than amazing. He stood on one leg, the tips of his fingers touched slightly above his head. Everyone clapped loudly. He took his final bow then scurried towards the front door, stopping only to blow Mrs. Jones a kiss. She blushed towards her husband, quickly curtsying. She took her husband’s hand, the two moved in close for a slow dance. 

The shenanigans lasted way past midnight. Mrs. Jones bid her guests farewell before cautiously climbing the staircase to her room. Mr. Jones stayed inches behind her in case her tipsy wobble became a tumble.

She collapsed onto their bed then leaned back up to remove her panty hose. “Such a special treat, the ballet performer you hired.” she tiredly smiled towards her husband.

“I thought you booked him for the party!” an uneasy feeling sent him rushing towards their hidden safe. The door stood open. “Everything is gone! The cash, the jewels, everything!” he pulled at his hair. 

“You silly man. You believe we were robbed by a ballet burglar?” she got up and joined him at the safe.  “My grandmother’s diamond broach!” she roared before passing out cold.

“What experience do you have, Mrs. Blankenship? Have you ever cared for two small children and an elderly woman? Oh, lest I forget, I’m Francine Manson, the lady of the house.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’ve kept many a child safe over the years and though not concurrent with an elderly individual, I have cared plenty for the old and feeble.”

“Feeble seems a bit harsh of a description don’t you think?”

“I suppose not, as I’m up in years, and at times, believe myself to be a bit feeble.”

“Ahhhh. Well, come with me, let me show you the children. Step quietly to the door, please. I don’t want them to know they’re being observed.”

“Understood.”

“The girl is Freala, she’s five and the boy, Sabin, he’s only three.”

“They’re adorable.”

“Yes…. They are precious…. The woman in the wheelchair by the window is their great grandmother, Winnie. She’s not spoken since the two were born. She remains their only living relative. She, along with myself as power of attorney, hold custody of the two hellions.”

“May I ask what happened to their parents?”

“No! ….. Let’s just say they lacked Winnie’s strength. There’s something special about the three beings you see here.”

“What ever do you mean?”

“The old woman is a bit age resistant, this is as old as she gets, the two youngsters carry her same genes.”

————-

“That’s enough children! Get down from great gran Winnie’s lap and remember that whatever you take from her, she will take double the portion back from your tiny veins.”

————

“Do you think you can start tonight? They cannot go another minute without proper supervision…… Ma’am….?? Ma’am….. ?? ………….. Did anyone see in which direction Mrs. Blankenship made her escape???”

The elevator door closed behind Benjamin. His young mind couldn’t fathom what was happening. People of all sorts, some in costume, were packed in, struggling to move. Benjamin looked up at the man wearing clown makeup as he pressed the number three, the button lit up and with a jerk, the metal box began to move.

Benjamin’s bottom lip extended when he realized his dad was not in the elevator with him. He held back his tears as he made eye contact with another five-year-old holding tightly to his mother’s hand. The little boy stuck his tongue out at Benjamin and crossed his eyes.

Benjamin turned away from the bully.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, everyone exited. Benjamin stood confused and alone. He felt a slight touch on the shoulder. “Wanna try?” a high pitched voice asked. Benjamin shyly glanced over as a man wearing tights and tennis shoes began to juggle three balls then four, five and six.

Crowds filled the stands, elephants pranced across the floor but Benjamin couldn’t go inside the arena, not without his father.

“Let’s all welcome to the center ring…… Juggler Jim!” the announcer said.

“That’s me! Gotta go!” Jim picked up Benjamin, swung him around and handed him off to a seven-foot-tall man on stilts walking towards the concession stand.

“He’s lost!” Jim said.

Benjamin covered his eyes and wept.

The tall man patted his tiny back. “There now, little one.” He walked out the front door with Benjamin in tow. No one noticed as the circus actor put the child in a white van, patted the roof and watched as the vehicle sped off.

“You know that I’ve always loved you,” his voice was raspy and weak. He reached over and placed his cold wrinkled hand upon hers. She gripped tightly to the metal railing of the hospital bed. A chill went down her spine.

“Mmmm,” she replied, the fifty years of marriage they shared had been based on nothing but lies, his endless nights of drunkenness, he’d stumble through the front door right before sunrise, just in time to see their children off to school.

She could only credit him for being a good provider. Now, as she sat waiting to speak with a Hospice nurse, she felt relieved.

“I was never meant to be your husband.” his eyes welled with tears. “I’m a twin, separated at birth from my brother. I was raised in the slums, and he, brought up in luxury. I watched from afar how his life unfolded, wishing this secret had never been revealed to me by my hateful adoptive mother. I became more enraged especially when he proposed to such a beautiful, elegant woman as yourself. All I ever wanted was a family of my own. Once you both said the I do’s, I killed him. Taking his place was easy, you had no self esteem, you allowed the behavior change.”

She didn’t believe his words, after all, he was sickly and couldn’t possibly have any idea what he was saying.

“I’m sorry. I could’ve loved you better but my guilt made it easier for me to love the booze more. Please tell the children that I have always cherished them.” his voice slowly diminished.

His wife shook her head, she would never believe his truth.

The machine next to his bedside screamed. He flatlined.

She replayed the years in her mind.”What if?” she wondered.

The morning air was cold. He swung his scarf around to cover his mouth and nose. He pulled his cap down over his eyes. With each step, his rugged boots dug into the rocks, one wrong move and down the mountainside he would tumble.

The peak of their tent poked through nature’s overgrowth. How fun, camping as a couple, the trouble with such is they’d never asked his permission to use his land. It wasn’t a mistake, but a yearly habit. He never forgets a trespasser; his trail cam wouldn’t allow it.

He whistled an unnamed tune as he approached the site. A tin percolator sat atop a crackling fire. A gray-haired man exited the tent, zipping it quickly closed behind him.

The property owner sat down in a lawn chair already placed by the pit. He crossed his legs and sighed. “They call me Jake, probably because I’m the biggest Jackass around these parts. Where’s your wife?” His fingers intertwined, rubbing one thumb over the other.

The gold seven-point star stitched on Jake’s hat sent his unwelcomed visitor into a panic. He fled. “Sherriff’s department, stop where you are!” Jake retrieved his weapon from its holster. The man fell. Sliding rapidly down the hill, he grabbed at every tree he could reach, attempting to slow his descend.

The sheriff pulled the trigger, rendering the suspect unalive.

“John, Beatrice.” Jake called out, moving through the brush. “John, Beatrice!” Over the years, he learned their names from many recorded conversations.

Finally, he heard their muffled voices. He found the couple tied to a tree, dirty, parched and hungry, their mouths duct taped.

Jake couldn’t imagine how someone managed to get to the couple before him. Gun drawn; he led them back to his house. “Now, let’s teach you both some manners.”

The old crew cab bounced up the hill, five men packed inside, two still asleep from last night’s unwinding. 

“I don’t know why he wants to protect this thing.” Mauricio hopped from the vehicle and started unloading the chain link fence from the bed. He hit the side of the truck. “Wake up, chumps. We’re not doing this job by ourselves, not this time.” 

“What is this place, anyways?” Gregory stood with his hands in his pockets staring at Mr. Rosenthal’s castle. “It’s not even historic. I could’ve built this, a few bricks, mortar, windows – and voilà!” 

Now, all five men stood shoulder to shoulder mesmerized by the monstrosity old man Rosenthal called his palace. 

With the back of his hand, Mauricio smacked Homer on the arm. “Let’s get to work.” 

Pole after pole went into the dirt. The sweaty, tired men sat down on the large stones near the homes entrance to have lunch.

Gregory looked back over his shoulder, immediately rising to his feet. “I swear someone’s up there!” He pointed towards the top of the building. “See, it’s a woman!” 

A tall skinny figure, dressed in a long black gown, a veil covering her face and gloves that led up to her elbows, waved down to the group. “Join me for a cup of tea?” She asked, moving closer to the edge.

“No ma’am. We’re about to finish up here but thank you for the offer.” Mauricio replied – for all.

Later that afternoon, the men met up with Mr. Rosenthal to get their pay. “Fencing your wife in, Huh?” Gregory joked. 

“Something like that.” He winked. “She’s been dead for decades.” Mr. Rosenthal opened his wallet and distributed a stack of hundreds to each man. “Voilà!” He laughed. “Visit again soon, won’t ya’? She gets lonely.” 

She flopped onto the all-white leather couch, careful not to spill the champagne she held tightly in her hand. She crossed her legs, then reached across the sofa, pulling gently at the back of her husband’s dark colored hair. He had been sitting, staring into the open space for quite a while. “You should visit a barber.” She whispered her complaint. 

“Mmmmm.” He replied.

“What do you think?” She placed her drink down on the glass table in front of them and retrieved a small bottle topped with a platinum-colored atomizer. The elegant bottle was wrapped in a print featuring a Japanese Castle, blue skies and Cherry Blossom trees, an excellent marketing strategy to head her Cultural line.

“Your latest fragrance? The one that keeps you away at night?” He spoke angrily towards his wife of three decades. Mariska Devaun was a genius in her own right, having dominated the fashion industry since a teen. He, Kingston Devaun, loyally stood by her side, promoting her spectacular products, while at times, grieving his own loneliness. 

“My best scents are compounded at night when my artistry is in full effect.” She squirted a bit of the perfume into the air, waving it towards his face. “I call this scent – Blue Blossom.”

He deeply inhaled. “Ohhhh… Marvelou……” His head slumped forward, sedated by her mixture. 

Mariska scurried from the room towards the spiral staircase. “Help Kingston to bed when he awakens.” She instructed the housekeeper on her way out the door.

In a hurry to meet her lover, she sped away from their Hollywood Hills mansion in her newest luxury coupe. The brake pedal loosely touched the floorboard as she rounded the deadliest curve on Mulholland Drive. Her screams went unheard. 

Kingston now goes by King… and all the ladies love him.

A few freshman members of Delta Sigma drunkenly marched down the hillside stumbling over their own white gowns, only some still had the laurel wreaths they wore atop their heads. “Get to the bridge ahead of the Alpha Pi’s. We have to hang our banner before they do.” It had been a centuries long tradition that whichever frat made it to the bridge and marked the territory first, would be able to claim the great party land for the entire school year.

Delta Sigma approached from the right as the Alpha Pi’s journeyed in from the left.

Both groups began to chant “Something wicked this way comes!” Their words echoed through the valley. A loud whistle blew, piercing their ears, they covered them tightly with the palms of their hands.

From underneath the bridge appeared three men draped in black and purple, gold dripping from their necks, each holding a seven foot tall spear. “You have summoned the wicked, so here we are. We watched you journey from near and far. The one you seek requires a self sacrifice, which one of you does not value your life?” The three spoke in unison.

The fraternity boys all looked at one another, smirking and laughing. “This is 2024. We don’t need any of this, not a fraternity or even a school. We can take classes online.” Retrieving loose rocks from the bridge, they hurled them at the evil below.

“I usually walk alone, if it’s even considered walking. Normally, I feel as though I’m floating.” Felix whispered. 

I was Felix’s best friend. He wasn’t mine. I did pity him and so, today, I journeyed up the mountain with him, concerned about his wellbeing. Lately, his conversation seemed a bit self-destructive. 

We intertwined with the bluest skies. I found peace in the scenery. 

“I step on every stone, fearing if my foot slips and hits the green grass, I will make a loved one pass. That is a thing, right? Haven’t you heard the old saying, step on a crack, break your mother’s back? Same thing, isn’t it? Step on the green grass, cause a loved one to pass?” Felix said. 

“Mmmm.” I didn’t have much of a reply. 

 “So, what if I made it up. Everything has a beginning. Are you suggesting that I not create things? Is my imagination not good enough for you?” Felix hopped over a stone, managing to land perfectly on the one after it.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Felix. I’m just wondering if perhaps this is just another one of your rituals.” I replied. Not paying attention to the placement of my own feet, I stepped on the grass, quickly retreating to a stone. 

Felix noticed my mishap and stood silently staring at my feet. 

“A ritual, Felix. It’s not real. It’s all in your mind.” I tried to convince him. 

“That’s what you all say.” He hung his head. “I suppose you consider me a loved one.” He said.

Before I could tell him that I didn’t love him like family, he took off running – full speed ahead, throwing himself from the mountain side. 

**********

His mangled body haunts my thoughts, never again will I step on green grass.