Meghan: Cows

“God damned hippies.” The chubby Farm manager spat, “You aren’t a hippy are you?”
“No sir.” I replied curtly, trying my best to look as if I hated the earth, “Can’t stand them.”
He brightened as if I had just blessed his firstborn, “Well, I see you come highly recommended Ms…Deina?”
I could feel his eyes probing me for some hint as to my name-story, but I kept my face carefully blank. If he wanted to know, he could ask, rude as the question was.
He made a harrumphing noise deep in his chest and folded the papers he had been reading. If he could read. No one really knew.
“You’ll start work tomorrow.” He said, “Be here at 5am sharp, the cows get angry if they have to wait.”
“Of course.” I said, smiling brightly while inside my head I was stabbing his chubby gut with scissors, “I’ll be here.”

5am really is too early. I shuddered in the morning chill and trudged towards the barns. A wiry, strangely awake Farming assistant fell in step next to me and began chattering about the duties that I was to fulfill on the Farm. Every once in a while I nodded but was mostly focusing on becoming more awake myself.
“The cows are housed in here.” He said, patting one of the barns that lined a quarter of the Farm. I bristled internally at his language, but had heard the slang so much since my arrival that I was starting to get used to it. Perish the thought.
Clueless to my internal turmoil, he continued on, “Since you’ll be mostly working with them, the Boss said to take you for a look around.”
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, daunted at the prospect of seeing the ‘cows’ for the first time with this skinny assistant ready to report every misstep to his boss man.
“I’d like to see them for the first time alone.” I said in what I hoped was a commanding tone.
“Well, I don’t know if—“
“Of the two of us, which has been hired for this job? If you have a degree in cows (I spat the word angrily) I’d like to see it.”
He looked like he might cry and I felt bad, but quickly crushed the bad feelings before they could weaken my bitchy tirade.
I sighed, “If I bring other people in with me it’s going to make them skittish. I can’t do my job if they’re skittish.”
“Of course, I’m sorry go right in.”
Twinges of guilt
Stop that
I took a deep breath and pushed open the barn doors.

The room was dark and musty and smelled strongly of hay and horse manure. I stepped forward cautiously into the gloom, wincing slightly as dim lights flicked on to illuminate the room. I walked slowly forward, trying not to startle them, but of course that wasn’t possible. Hooves stamped, nostrils flared, and eyes rolled in rage as yet another person invaded their space. And what a little space it was. I walked down a narrow hallway between two rows of gated wooden pens. Hooves slammed into the wall of a pen on my left and I flinched away from it, suddenly feeling very human and very fragile. More slamming started on the right, then more and more hooves over and over. I covered my ears against the thunder and splintering of wood, screaming for them to stop. But of course that had no effect. So I sucked in a deep breath and screeched out the words that he had taught me. The thundering stopped and the silence that followed was thick with suspicion, rage, and other nasty feelings.
“What did you say?” a deeply bass voice thrummed from one of the pens. I repeated the phrases I had been taught, words slithering and tripping over each other as they were not meant to be pronounced by a human mouth.
“What do you desire?” The voice asked tiredly.
“She is one of them!” a different voice hissed with rage.
“Please—“ I croaked.
“Shut up, human.”
“She knows the words. We must give her what she wants.”
An angry whinny echoed across the high ceiling. I took the silence that followed as permission.
“I’m looking for Eury.”
Another snort, “Why would one of you seek one of us?” I walked over to the stall that the angry voice came from and placed my palms against the wood of its door
“He is mine and I am his.”
I felt air blow through my fingers as he sniffed my palms. A peal of laughter came from the stall and I fell back in surprise.
“I can smell him on you, gods, I never would have thought.” He smothered his laughter to quiet snorts, “He’s in the third section, sixth stall down. And tell him—“
But I never heard what to tell him, because I was running. With every step that pounded against the floor and every row of stalls that I passed my heart pounded harder in my chest. Finally, finally, finally, I was so close. I skidded past his section, grabbing onto the corner of the hall to steady myself before I walked shakily down to the sixth stall. I regarded the door for a moment, not daring to think what I would do if I was wrong again, then rocked forward to lean against the wood.
I rubbed my cheek against the wood for good luck then whispered, “Eury?”
The answering whisper broke my heart.
“Deianira?”
God, how could someone sound so hopeless?
I dug frantically through my purse and came up with a packet of flat metal tools. I took the lock on his door in my hands and pried at it delicately.
“I’ll have you out in a minute.”
“Why did you come for me?” Of all things, he sounded angry.
“Why did I come for you!?” I hissed back, “I’m your lover, I’ll rescue you whether you like it or not.”
“We are a dying race little spitfire.” He said quietly, “You would do better to go live your life without me.”
“Go to hell.” I muttered as I twisted frantically at his lock.
“Soon.” He said wistfully.
The lock clicked open and I swung his door open with such force that it bounced against the wall.
He stood a torso length taller than me, standing on a floor covered with hay and shit; four legs shaking like he’d been standing for days.
I scowled up at him, “If you dare leave me for death I’m going to march down to river Styx and drag your furry ass right back.”
He smiled and I saw a trace of my old Eury flickering in his eyes. He bent down to my height and laid a cheek against my hair
“I have missed you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in the side of his neck, breathing him in. He braced his hooves and lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He whispered words of his native tongue, into my ear. I just held him like I used to, not looking forward to the moment when we both remembered to be reasonable.
“We have to go.” He finally said.
I grinned at the ‘we’, “Yep.”
“But we have to come back.”
I let my head fall on his shoulder again, “Yep.”
I felt his muscles shift under my hands as he breathed in my scent again.
“You smell different.”
“Mmmmhmmm.”
He leaned me back so he could look at my face, “No, I’m serious, what changed? It’s not just your shampoo unless you’re mixing it with some sort of hormone…”
I watched him, innocently blank while the thoughts ticked across his face.
When he finally got it his whole body shuddered, and I clenched my legs even tighter around his waist in case he let me go.
“Y—y—you---you---“
“Yeah that was my reaction too.” I said calmly.
He swung me down to the floor and knelt so he was about my height. After looking into my eyes for permission he slid my shirt up and laid his face against the flat surface of my stomach. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Once. Twice. Three times.
His eyes flew open and he was spinning me, kissing me all at once.
“When? How?” he asked between kisses.
“Soon after you left. And…the traditional way.” I touched his cheek, “But then all this happened and I wasn’t sure you even wanted children.”
“Of course I do.” He said passionately. Then his eyes flicked to our surroundings and reality sucked back in. “We must leave.”
I nodded and he swung me from his arms to ride on his back. It was considered a mortal offense to ride them like horses, and the rider who tried was often killed, but he was mine and I was his.
We clopped through the maze of pens while I whispered directions in his ear. I pushed open one of the back doors to the barn and was relieved to see the transport van that I had paid dearly for parked close by. The driver would leave in a half hour, taking us with him. But we would be back. And trust me when I say that a woman pregnant with a centaur’s child is not one you want to mess with.



-M

Meghan: Jacked in

Her left hand curled around a tea mug while the right typed the story of her life. How does someone put down all that they are, all that they hope to be, into words? It seemed too simple, that a person could be broken down into these little marks on her screen. Gold rimmed glasses slid down her nose and she wrinkled it, trying to push them back up but only succeeding in making them slide further. She glanced at the clock and choked when she saw the numbers glowing at a much later hour then she thought. She set the mug on the table and resumed typing double-speed. Must finish, must finish…she chanted to herself. Sentence after sentence marched across the screen but the process was still too slow. Her eyes caught on the computer jack, coiled next to her wrist. She bit her lip and hesitated, but then shook her head as if to clear her thoughts and continued. She wouldn’t do it again. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t do it again. But… Her eyes flicked to the clock again. Damn it. She traced the lines of wiring along her computer with a contemplative finger, just this once. Just one more time wouldn’t hurt, and she really had to finish this book. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she pulled a knife from her pocket and flicked it open. With a grimace she dug it into her wrist, holding it away from her so the blood wouldn’t drip down her clothes. Gasping at the pain, she scooped up the jack and slipped it into the hole that the knife had left behind. When it connected, a small involuntary noise squeaked from her throat and she gripped the arms of her chair. It felt good to be alive again.

The information fizzed through her brain like a carbonated beverage and crackled on her tongue with miniature lightning. A million voices whispered, a million tastes, sights, and smells were all jammed into her neurons at once. Her back arched against the chair and she made a mewling sound deep in her throat. It had been far too long since the interwebs had whispered in her ears; it was like some kind of high, to be jacked into the motherboard. Words were spinning across the page at a rapid pace now; page upon page was sucked out of her mind with the ease of breathing. Unfortunately such easy work took a heavy tole on her body. With a titanic effort, she reluctantly pulled the chord from her flesh. It left with a dry sucking sound that made her shudder. With the information gone she felt like a dry husk of herself, swiveling weakly in her chair. She drew a shaky hand across her face and was startled to come away with blood. She had forgotten the terrible nosebleeds that she used to get when this was a daily occurrence. Staunching the flow with some tissues, she looked back at the screen to see what her mind suck had produced. She was surprised to see the story written in third person, as if it were a biography about some distant figure rather than her own autobiography. She read her childhood, smiling absently at the memories that came with the words. She flipped through her middle years to the ending, which was what she had been having trouble coming up with on her own. There was her work with the hospitals, the new developments in research, and… She frowned and leaned closer, sure that she had misread.

“The young scientist died early and tragically. Found in her apartment on the night of February 7, 3010, it was never determined whether she committed suicide, as many believed, or was murdered.”

She scowled at the screen, “Ha ha, very funny.” She muttered under her breathe.

She reached for the bloody jack and angrily stabbed it back into her arm. She swiped her gaze over her obituary passage to delete it, but nothing happened. She tried again, but still nothing. She bit her lip as more words began to flick across the screen, beginning to feel the bite of fear because she hadn’t told it to type anything. It wrote a note addressed to her editor. It begged for forgiveness and understanding, telling him that it was all for the best and he would someday understand. When it signed her name at the bottom of the note she gaped wordlessly as she started to get it.

“No. NO!” She croaked as she stood up, knocking her chair over, “DELETE!” She screamed at her computer, “DELETE!!!”

The bitter taste of metal filled her mouth and she put a hand to her face to find her nose bleeding freely again. She grabbed tissues to staunch it but they were soaked in seconds. She reached frantically for the chord in her arm but her fingers wouldn’t close on it, it had dug too far into her veins and the blood made it slick. She spotted her knife still lying open on her desk and reached desperately for it. Choking on the blood that ran down her face from her nose, she stabbed and dug at the jack in her arm, trying to get it out. With a wet popping noise, it fell from her wrist and she laughed in relief. But her laugh was weak and she felt so dizzy, she needed to sit down, to rest. She leaned back in her chair and stared back at the screen where a bloody handprint was smeared across the suicide letter that the computer had written for her.

“You’re out, it’s out.” She wheezed. The screen in front of her was getting blurry and dark.

“That was the last…time.” She said tiredly as her eyes slid shut.

-Meghan

Meghan: just a little sun

She tipped her head back as the light slid across her skin. The tip of her tongue whet her lips only to have the rich touch of the sun pull the moisture right back out. She purred for the places it caressed and shivered from the skin it left bare. Rays dipped against her collar bone and slipped down the curve of her chest.

“What are you doing?”

Her breathe caught in her throat at the sound of the voice and the sunlight fled the room. She slowly slipped her robe back over her shoulders from where it had fallen off.

“Nothing.”

“It did not look like nothing to me.” said the voice that echoed with night and shadows.

“Forgive me Master Dark, if it looked like something more than it was.” She said acidly, “I am allowed to occasionally summon heat in this dark pit, am I not?”

“Pit?” his voice hissed around her ears, chilling away whatever warmth the light had brought. “You dare to call our home a pit? You spend a quarter of my income on your comforts only to say it’s not enough? When does it end, woman?”

“It ends today.” She spit back at him, “When you release me.”

He clicked his tongue sardonically, “Ma Cherie, you know I will never do that.”

She bared her teeth, “You will.”

“Ah, but you’d miss me.” He wrapped his hands in the fabric of her robe and lifted her onto her feet as if she weighed nothing. Then he pulled her forward with the holds and kissed her.

She pulled back from the kiss with a snarl, “I hate you!”

He caught her wrists in his hands, “You may hate me my love but I know the heart that beats within you, and it will not be satisfied with the sun. Without a touch of darkness you’ll die, like a flower without light.” He paused and nibbled the curve of her neck. “I know it; you know it, so stop being such a bitch about it.”

A smile quirked up one side of her mouth, “I love you.”

He kissed the top of her head, “I know.”

She narrowed her eyes, “What do you mean, ‘you know’?”

He sighed and bent, sweeping her legs out from under her and lifting her up into his arms.

“What are you doing, put me down!” she protested

He closed his eyes briefly, “I must be some kind of masochist…”

“Put me down!”

“No.” He said shortly, “I am taking you to bed, where I will wipe every filthy trace of sunlight from your body.”

“What, but—“

“Or I could beat it off with the…what did you call that new toy?”

“I’m going to kill you!”

“But you love me.”
“I hate you!”

He crushed her growling mouth to his in a kiss that left her gasping.

“I know.”

-Meghan

Meghan: Little Red Riding Hood

Once upon a midnight dreary

I was feeling rather weary

Maybe life is full of shit

Or maybe I’m just sick of it

Budum, Budum, Budum,

Her heart beats like a little drum.

She never should have gone this way, Mother said, Mother said,

Never walk in the dark.

But she had to go, Little Red. Grandma needs her basket of food and Little Red had to bring it to her. “Grandma lives all by herself,” her mother had told her, “She can’t get up to cook anymore and she needs you to bring her food.” But Little Red had wanted to go play by the pond, and then she had to milk the cows, and she thought maybe maybe she could beat the pink and purple fingers of sunlight being drawn down across the horizon like claws being retracted. It wasn’t dark then, not yet, not really. But now the moon was high in the sky like a shiny silver coin and Little Red had her little red hood pulled up around her face to ward off the night’s bite. If she could get to the house she could spend the night and get back in the early morning, early enough to do her chores.

She listened hard, trying to pick out the bad noises. But all she could hear were her own footsteps, quick and shuffling in the leaves and twigs of the forest floor. But Mother told her about bears and foxes and wolves.

Maybe there were no bad things here.

A light shone in her eyes, blinding her. She threw a hand across her face, clutching her basket to her with her other arm,

“Who’s there?” she called in a high, scared voice.

“Is that Little Red?” A deep, gonglike voice rippled through the trees. The light dimmed a little and Little Red lowered her arm to see a huge man striding towards her.

“The…Woodcutter?” She said hesitantly.

“That’s right.” He grinned broadly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Hunting wolves.” He said, shouldering his axe

“Oh,” she hesitated, “In the dark?”

“The dark is the best time.” He said, “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking food to my Grandma.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll walk with you; there might be wolves around here.”

She hesitated again; she had heard the things that were said about the giant in the village. Things about his previous home and the Bad Things. Her Mother had said to stay away from him.

“No.” she said slowly, “I think I’ll be okay.”

He smiled down at her, “But you’re in danger.”

She started to back down the path, “I’ll be fine.”

He followed her, one of his steps equal to two of hers, “No, I really don’t think you will be.”

She started running before she even knew what she was doing, screeching like a bird on fire and tearing through the trees. He crashed after her, abandoning his axe.

He knew that he didn’t have to hurry.

She cried, she screamed, she ran, but he caught her and dragged her to him like a trapped butterfly caught in a net.

“Please, don’t, please,” she begged. But his face was like a stone mask; eyes glittering, he licked his lips and tore open her red coat. It lay on the ground under her like red wings. He pinned her arms with one beefy hand, and sat on her thrashing legs.

“Stop it, please stop!” Little Red cried, he tore open her dress and she screamed for her mother, over and over.

“Shut up.” He said as he slapped her sharply across the face. She stopped screaming with a choked gasp, but her tears kept flowing, washing clean tracks in the earth that had rubbed into her face.

She didn’t remember when he started on her, she just turned her head to the side and tried not to feel, tried not to think, tried not so smell…

She came back from the faraway haze where she tried to be nothing. She was lying on a carpet of churned pine needles, leaves, and rich earth. Her clothes were open, torn and ripped exposing pale flesh that still throbbed. Her beautiful red cape was filthy with earth but she still pulled it closed around her as she curled into a ball.

She smelled like him.

She could still feel him on her skin, in her mouth where he’d pushed his lips to hers, and worst of all inside of her. Where she couldn’t scrub clean, couldn’t get him out, where he had been that no one else had. How would she ever fix this?

A noise from the woods made her raise her head wearily. Because really, what worse thing could happen to her? In the brush in front of her she saw a glittering pair of eyes.

A wolf?

“Kill me!” she sobbed, “I might as well die.” She crawled towards the brush but the eyes had disappeared at her cries.

With hiccupping sobs she used a tree trunk to pull herself to her feet. She walked into the brush after the eyes that had disappeared.

She walked, and walked, and walked.

She wanted to sleep, but she remembered that there was a reason she had started walking. She couldn’t remember what it was, but there was a reason. Red kept her eyes glued to the ground as she plodded forwards, not noticing as night turned to day. Her legs were shaking with exhaustion when she walked into her grandmother’s yard.

Red looked around her in confusion, she’d been lost in the haze again and was surprised to recognize where she was. When she saw the small neat garden and the cottage she sobbed in anger and frustration.

“No!” she cried, “I was supposed to die, it was supposed to end!” She collapsed on her knees, “Please come back Wolf, please kill me!”

“Red?” her grandmother tottered out of the cottage, “Oh Little Red, thank goodness, I’ve been worried sick where have you been? What happened to your clothes?!”

Red turned a tearstained face to her grandmother, seeing her life fly before her eyes. Maybe the bad man would be caught but Red’s life would end. Maybe if she could forget, then it would all go away and she could find a little bit of peace. Peace didn’t seem possible after the hell she had been through, but maybe…maybe she could try.

“There was…” Red hesitated, “A wolf.”

“A wolf!” her grandmother squeaked, “That’s terrible; it’s incredible you escaped alive. Come in; let’s get you fixed up dear.

Yes. Incredible.

-Meghan

Meghan: The curse of Heron Lake

Her eyes scanned over the computer screen as her fingers clicked through the endless online pages. She could feel her eyes glazing as the information shifted by. The sharp pinch of an insect bite flared in her neck and she slapped her hand at it. Another hand glided through her slapping fingers and her roommate kissed her on the head.
“You’ve been working forever,” the interrupter grumbled, “Don’t you need things like food and water occasionally?”
“What’s food?” the girl said as she continued clicking.
“If you die clenched to your keypad, eyes locked to the screen, I’m going to make fun of you forever.”
“Meghan, you know I have to finish these applications before school starts.”
“I know that, but school is weeks off, so you can take a break now.”
The girl at the computer sighed and frowned at the screen. It did look a little fuzzy; maybe she should take a break. She stretched and stood up from her chair, only to stagger and have to catch herself on the desk.
“Wha…?”
Meghan felt the pulse in her roommate’s wrist as she sat back down in the chair.
“Good, everything’s good.”
“Wha…you..?”
“Jasmine, I have something to tell you. No, I haven’t suddenly developed homicidal tendencies; don’t look at me like that. We’re going on a vacation!” She smiled at her angry, paralyzed roommate, “Aren’t you excited? Yes, I knew you would be. Don’t worry, everything’s packed, and I have everyone else, we just need to get down to the van.”
Jasmine could only twitch mildly in frustration as Meghan lifted her over her shoulder and carried her down the steps outside the apartment to the parking lot. She waved cheerily at the neighbors, who, used to the strange antics of the people next door, simply smiled and waved back. Jasmine’s last memory before she passed out was of three other vaguely people-like shapes seat-belted into the van with her, all with black bags over their heads.

Doug’s eyes felt heavy, almost as if their insides had been coated with lead and he had to drag his eyelids open. The first thing he saw was a bright patch of sunlight, making him groan and throw a hand over his face. He pulled the sleeping bag over his eyes to hide the burning light, but started when he felt the material in his hands. A sleeping bag? What the fuck? He tore open the bag and sat up, trying to hear and see everything at once. He had fallen asleep in his bed in Albuquerque only to wake up in some strange sleeping bag. He looked to his left and got another mini heart attack when he saw the girl twisted up in blankets next to him, blonde hair thrown over her face. For a millisecond he wondered at what terrifying amounts of alcohol had been somehow slipped to him secretively, but with a sigh of relief he smoothed back the hair from the girl’s face, recognizing Jasmine. He looked to his right and saw that the person curled up there was Meghan. He felt Jasmine stir under his fingers and kissed her.
“Good Morning.”
“Kill.”
“Ah…not the greeting I expected.”
Jasmine blinked her heavy lidded eyes, and tried to crawl over him to Meghan, “I’m going to kill her.”
He caught her still partially sedated body in his arms and held her back, “Wait, wait, bad dream?”
“No. She. Drugged. Me.”
“Meghan?” He laughed, “She wouldn’t do…that…” He glanced at her, “Probably.”
“Well she did. And now I’m going to kill her.”
While the battle was taking place on the other side of the tent, Meghan opened her eyes and stretched.
When the other two turned to her, she smiled and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
Doug blocked Jasmine’s flying tackle just in time, and asked over her death threats, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, we’re at Heron Lake.”
Doug and Jasmine both stopped struggling and stared at her.
“I thought we decided not to come this summer.” Jasmine asked in a puzzled voice.
“Yes.”
“And…We’re here anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Great. We’re doomed.”
“Yes.” Meghan clapped her hands together gleefully.
“Okay then, just one question.” Doug asked
“Yes?”
“Where are our clothes?”

But before Meghan could answer a glass-shattering scream echoed from outside from the tent. Without waiting to question it, the three grabbed what weapon they could find nearest and burst from the tent. Outside they found Abe dressed in what looked like an CRAZY Creek and a screaming Sarah, wrapped up in blankets. Doug and Jasmine both looked at Meghan
“It’s only fair if everyone’s naked.” She said happily.
“You have the strangest logic…” Doug muttered.
“But it makes sense—“
She was interrupted by Sarah’s fresh scream, and now that they were closer they could make out the words that were blasting,
“PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!! WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!?! WHY AM I HERE!?! WHY IS EVERYONE NAKED!?!”
Followed by long lists of profanity.
Doug ran back to the open tent and grabbed an armful of blankets, throwing one at each of the naked folk until everyone was sufficiently covered enough for Sarah to calm down.
When the volume in the clearing had lowered, Meghan said, “It’s a vacation.”
Sarah looked at her, “What?”
“Heron Lake,” she waved a blanketed arm at the sparkling water that could be seen on the horizon, “we always come.”
“But we weren’t going to come this year.”
Doug cleared his throat, “We’ve already been through that.”
“So we’re doomed?”
“Yep.”
Abe narrowed his eyes and glared at Meghan, “I have just one question.” He stepped close, invading her personal space, “Realize that your very life may depend on your answer.”
Meghan bit her lip, “Okay…”
“Did you bring the canoe?”
“Yes. It’s by the lake.”
Abe smiled, “Okay. You can live.” He strode in the direction of the lake, calling over his shoulder, “See you around dinner time!”
“What about your clothes?” Doug called.
“Fuck clothes, I’ll get them later.”
“Well I want my clothes,” Sarah said turning to Meghan, “Well? Where are they?”
“In a tree.”
Jasmine sighed, “What tree? There are lots of trees.”
“Over there, I’ll take you.”
One by one the bundles of clothing were fished out of the tree and their owners covered once more until Sarah was the only one left wrapped in blankets.
“Where are my clothes Meghan?” She asked in a dangerously low voice.
Meghan sucked in her breathe and stared up at the tree, “The beast must have taken it.”
The other three looked at her, confused.
Deadly serious, she continued, “The mysterious beast that haunts the lakeside, it feasts upon abandoned clothes and then stalks its naked prey.”
The other three just looked at her.
“I’m serious! That’s what happened”
“So everyone has clothes but me? No way. Since you got us into this you should give me your clothes.” Sarah eyed Meghan’s garments prospectively.
Meghan wrapped her arms around herself and took a defensive posture, “No way, you’ll never take my clothes.”
Sarah smiled evilly, “You have to take them off sometime.”
“Never!”

Doug’s hands glided up her back as he kissed her, pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her back ground against the rough bark of the tree behind her as he pushed against her. She breathed in his rich scent and moaned softly as he worked her neck. Her gaze drifted down to the ground and she froze,
“Doug, where are my clothes?”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“My clothes, my…God Damn it.” She swore as she realized what had happened. Thinking quickly she pulled him in for a full kiss, “I appreciate your sacrifice.” She said seriously, laying a hand over his heart.
“My what?” But he was talking to air, she had disappeared and she had taken his clothes with her.
“GOD DAMN IT MEGHAN!”

Meghan confronted Sarah in front of the fire pit where Abe was kindling sparks and Jasmine was whittling sticks.
“So, you think you can attack me when I’m distracted, do you?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I see you have clothes now.”
“Indeed I do.”
Jasmine offered her a poofy white shape from the bag in her lap, “Marshmallow?”
“Yay!” Meghan and Sarah both grabbed marshmallows and sat down in front of the soon-to-be fire.
Jasmine looked sidelong at Meghan, “Aren’t those Doug’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Soo… What’s Doug wearing?”
Meghan shrugged, “I don’t know.”
They both looked back at the campsite to see Doug walking around gathering firewood.
“Nothing, I guess.”
“Yep.”
“Sarah, don’t look behind you.” Meghan said, and patted her on the shoulder, “It will end badly.”
Meghan and Jasmine watched as Doug carried a load of wood to their fire. As he approached, he was intercepted by some girls from a neighboring camp. Meghan narrowed her eyes as she watched the girls laugh and giggle.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked, turning to Jasmine.
Jasmine grinned ferally and handed her one of the spears that she had been sharpening, “Don’t break it,” she instructed, “I still want to use them to roast marshmallows.”

A newly dressed Meghan handed Doug his clothes back.
“Where did you get the clothes?” he asked, eyeing the huge tear above her heart and the subsequent bloody streaks.
“I found them.”
He pondered about whether to ask and decided against it, “Okay.”
Jasmine chopped up what looked vaguely like human body parts and tilted them into the group’s giant cooking pot.
Everyone ate well that night, and clothing abounded for all.

The end <3

-Meghan

Meghan: Can you see?

This is the most perfect place.
You say that you know one better? You have never been to mine.
Every love, every terror, every experience can be found within its twisting corridors, and all that it takes to bring you where you want is a thought. Set your hands against the shifting walls of a castle and the stone will blend to grass, windows to sky, and cobwebs to stars. In the spaces of my mind I walk, never bored, never lonely, always safe.

“What?”
“That’s it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes it does.”
“Ana, you’re crazy.”
Ana narrowed her eyes at her friend, “You’re not supposed to use the c-word.”
The other girl rolled her eyes and released a raggedy strand of hair she had been chewing, “What, are you going to do? Tell on me?”
“No.” Ana said quietly, staring hard at the paper she was drawing on.
“Aw Ana, I’m sorry. I know you’re not…I won’t say it again okay?” Her friend said earnestly.
“You’d better not Claudia,” Ana sniffed, “If you get into trouble again you might go away. And I couldn’t—“ She bit her lip hard and the crayon she was drawing with left dark pressure streaks across her paper.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Claudia picked up a blue crayon and started drawing stars on the page, “Stupid that they don’t give us colored pencils or markers or something.”
“No pointy things, that’s what mom said, not after…” Ana’s sentence whispered into nothing as they both remembered. It was an unspoken rule; they never talked about the bad things. But nothing could stop them from remembering.

She lay in a field with her hair spread all around her. It fell in cornflower waves, not the short, manageable cut she had in the other place. She stroked bunches of it in her fingers and listened to the sweet smelling grass sing to the stars that winked above. And then the moon began its haunting tune and she couldn’t help but sing with it in her high sweet soprano. She stretched out her fingers and pulled a winking star down to her, whispering and giggling as they snuggled into her grassy nest. She threaded his brilliance between her fingers and he whispered the secrets of the sky for only her to hear.

But then all she had to do was open her eyes, and the truth would be there. Why did that have to be the truth? Why couldn’t she live in the one she had made, the brilliant fantastic truth that lived behind closed eyes?

“Parent day. Could there be a worse day?” Claudia rolled her eyes and tugged at her shirt. One of the few advantages of this day was they were allowed to wear real clothes. As long as there were no zippers or dangerous looking buttons.
“Evaluation day.” Ana said, “Evaluation day is the worst.” And it was, but it was also the best. The day their cases were all reevaluated for potential freedom could bring both wonderful hope and crushing agony. Unfortunately for Ana and Claudia, it always seemed to be the latter.
Claudia swung her feet from her chair, “Maybe it’ll be a good day this year, I mean we’ve both been doing pretty good right?” She looked at Ana hopefully.
“Yeah, pretty good.” Ana said distractedly as she stared into the lobby.
“Oh.” Claudia said as she glanced into the same room.
She patted Ana on the back, “Good luck.”
Luck was definitely needed by anyone coming into contact with the cold steely woman who was now striding through the waiting room doors. Her hair hardly moved from its sculpted position as she tapped rapidly down the hall. Ana watched her walk into one of the conference rooms; holding her breath as she waited for the doctor to come and take her to her mother.

Dark ripples spread out from her tiny boat. She peaked over its edge into a vast ocean and knew she should be afraid of what might swim below the surface but was only excited. It was her mind after all, and no demon below, however hideous, would be unknown to her. She folded her legs under her and worked a little worm onto a hook in her lap. Sunlight glowed down on her, making her shadow waver on the dark water. When the hook was ready she cast her line out into the water, wrapping her hands carefully around the fishing pole to keep it from flying from her hands if she caught something. She didn’t really care if she did, but was interested in what might happen if she tried. Casting a line out blindly into the waters of her mind, what might bite?

The woman smacked a magazine down on the desk, startling Ana out of her thoughts.
“Will you stop drifting off please?” She said sharply, “I asked how your day went.”
What did she want to hear?
“It was fun.”
“Did you do anything interesting?”
What would get her out of here?
“I drew some pictures, and made friends with one of the new girls.”
“A friend? Which one?”
Please
“Claudia.”
“Oh.” She paused, “That’s wonderful.”
Help me.
“Momma, do you know when I can come back home?”
The sleek woman in front of her hesitated and straightened the papers in the file she held in her lap, “I’m not quite sure Ana, we’ll just have to see won’t we?”
“Have to see?” Her lips quivered, “But you promised—“
There was a soft knock on the door and one of the doctors stuck his head in, “Mrs. Harper, may I see you for just a moment? I’m sorry to interrupt but—“
“No, no, it’s fine.” She said tightly. He nodded and ducked back out into the hall while she pushed back her chair.
“Momma, why are you going?”
“I’ll just be a second Ana; I need to talk to your doctor.”
Ana caught the edge of her coat, trying to tug her back, “But this is the only time--“
Her mother’s hand stroked absently at the bristly hair on her daughters head, “I’ll just be a minute.”
“But—“
“Oh for God’s sake!” The woman rummaged in her purse for a while and came up with a few colored pens. She slapped them and some paper down in front of her daughter with a hurried, “Draw something for me, I’ll be right back.” as she rushed out of the room.

Ana sobbed and fisted her hands over her eyes.
“Close, close!” she demanded of them, trying to sink back into her wonderful place.

“I’m sorry Doctor, what is it?”
“It’s about Ana.”
“I gathered that, what about her?”
“Well, it’s about her pictures.”
“Yes, she’s been telling me about the artwork she’s been—is something wrong?”
The doctor hesitated, “Have you ever seen her pictures?”
“No. Is there a problem with them?”
“It could be nothing, but, well take a look.”
He handed her a folder of pictures and she flipped it open. Her eyes widened and her breathe came faster as she flicked through them quickly. After she had scanned a few she snatched one and shoved the folder in the direction of the doctor. Almost at a run she slammed through the conference room door to hesitate at the threshold.
“Ana!?!” she called loudly, staring at her daughter’s empty chair. She walked further into the room to find Ana huddled in a corner.
“Oh Ana,” she sobbed as she tottered over to the girl, “Why didn’t you tell me?” She held out the picture like a peace offering.”
“It’s okay Momma,” Ana said, “I fixed it.”
She turned her face away from the corner and smiled at her mother beatifically, “See?”
With a little choked sound her mother let the picture drift to the ground. She stared wordlessly at her daughter’s face, then took a deep breath and began to scream.
But Ana just smiled and leaned her head gently against the wall.
She couldn’t see the ugliness any more.


-Meghan