Thank you Mr. W, he was shy according to all reports, a boisterous entertainer on stage. A paradox.
House of Heart
Red Riding Hood
wasn’t afraid of wolves
in fact
they were her best friends
she knew the story
they told
was meant to keep
girls on the path
a warning
that if they stepped out of line
terrible things would happen to them
but Red knew better
knew the only dangers
were the human hunters
so she carried a gun
walked with a wolf by her side
and went wherever the hell
she pleased
AI generated art from: Pixabay
Cat…a poem
April 25, 2024
inside
every cat
is a star
filled
with unconditional
love
and the gift
of them letting
us be part of their lives
❤️
Picture: Pixabay
Photo: Abhishek Hajare
Unsplash
Sloane’s room was pink and well appointed. She looked at Marie and said, “Get rid of everything but the bed, desk and the computer. I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll eat. I want to know what is expected of me before I go to bed tonight.”
The woman nodded and left the room.
Sloane went through the closet and drawers, found jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of socks that looked as if they would fit, then she locked herself in the bathroom. She stayed in the shower for a long time, thinking and trying not to see her parents being torn apart by vampires, over and over again.
She believed Miles when he said she would be able to get revenge for their deaths, so she decided to focus on that and nothing else. But she had to wonder why he had a room ready for her when her parents had just been murdered. She also wondered why she just sat on the floor in a burning building and didn’t try to get out. Shock? Maybe. But she also knew it was more than that. She just didn’t care if she died. The shampoo smelled like grass and grapefruit. She liked it.
After she was dry and dressed, she went back into her room where a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup were waiting for her. Devin was also there.
“I’m Devin,” he said.
“I know.”
Devin was about six five and solid muscle. He had blond hair that looked windblown, green eyes and an easy smile.
“We start training tomorrow,” he said.
“Will you be teaching me how to fight?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’ll follow your instructions.”
“Deal,” he said. “I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re young and a girl.”
“Of course not,” she said.
“You will know pain.”
“I get it.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” she said truthfully.
“Okay,” he said, grinning at her. “You need some muscle mass, so you’ll be working out each day, targeting a different part of your body. You need to be strong, get your core in shape. You need to be fast.”
“I want to be those things.”
“I know you do. I can feel it.”
“Really?” she asked, taking a bite out of the sandwich.
“Yes.”
“I want revenge.”
“You’ll get it.”
“Have you taught others?”
“Not like you. You’re young, female and skinny.”
“I am not skinny,” she said, frowning at him.
“Never lie to yourself. That’s important.”
“Fine. I’m thin,” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him.
“These are for you,” he said, handing her one pound weights. “Do this,” he continued. Sets of ten, three times a day.”
“Have you killed anyone?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“A lot. Why?”
“Just making sure you know what you’re doing,” she said.
Devin laughed out loud. “Would you like references?”
“Do you have any?”
He laughed again. “I think I like you.”
“You’re too old for me,” she said, “and besides someday I might have to kill you, so don’t like me too much.”
“Why would you have to kill me?”
“Practice.”
“I’ll watch my back.”
“What time tomorrow morning and where?”
“Eight sharp, in the gym. Marie will take you there. Don’t eat breakfast.”
“Got it.”
“Until then,” he said, holding out his fist.
“Until then,” she said, bumping his fist with hers.
The soup was cold and she was hungry so she picked up the bowl and drank it.
“No, no, no,” said Marie, taking the bowl out of her hands. “You must have perfect manners, so you’ll fit in anywhere. Sit up straight. Use your spoon.”
“I always use my spoon. Okay, except for doing that.”
“After your workout with Devin, you will eat, then it will be time for in house school. Then you will eat again and have lessons in walking, languages and how to dress.”
“All that just to kill two vampires?”
“Miles has other things in mind for you as well.”
“Is he going to make me his personal hit person?” she asked.
“Yes. He is.”
“Is there any cake?”
***
Devin was right. There was pain, as well as black and blue marks. A lot of them. He was gentle, or he would have broken me in half. He said I was fast for my weight and age. I did sit ups, pull ups, jumped rope, lifted weights and more. I fell asleep on my breakfast.
The school teacher was human and spent four hours telling me things. A designer came in and measured me. She showed me swatches, which are tiny bits of fabric, and told me to pick out what I liked. I told her I didn’t like swatches and just wanted to wear what I had on. She old me that if I didn’t choose, she would do it for me, so I picked out something blue, black and pale yellow. She left and the language teacher entered the room.
Mr. Holiday, was a tiny man, so nervous that I could have beaten him up and stolen his lunch money. He had brown hair, brown eyes and he was wearing a brown sweater. He had a nice voice, though, and he was very serious about the shape of my vowels, squeezing my face until it hurt. I was going to learn French, Italian and Spanish. I though he was insane, since I wasn’t all that good at English, but he said that Miles told him that if I didn’t speak those languages fluently, his whole family would suddenly disappear. I told him not to worry. I wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t seem to believe me, so we started with French. It was immediately clear to both of us, that this would be an uphill battle.
Later that evening, I was brought into the dining room for dinner. The table was set for two. Miles sat at the head of the table and I sat at his left.
“How was your first day?” he asked, delicately placing a lettuce leaf into his mouth.
“Fine.”
“Sloane. You are still in the classroom. I’m going to teach you how to have flawless conversations. When I ask you how your fist day was, you will tell me some of the things you did, smile, take a bit of food, then tell me something else.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really? We will begin again. How was your fist day?”
Sloane smiled at him, her eyes flat and cold, as she dabbed at her mouth with the corner of her linen napkin and said, “I rather liked it. Being in the gym with Devin showed me how much I have to learn. I looked at fabric and had a very nice lunch. Mr. Holiday is teaching me several languages, which I hope to learn as quickly as possible. How was your day?”
He stared at her.
“I have seen TV programs after all,” she sighed. “I’m not stupid.”
“Well done, for a first try.”
“Why were my parents killed and who are you?”
Miles put down his knife and fork and picked up his wine glass. “You’re going to have to learn all about wine, by the way. I’ll take you to some vineyards, so you will know everything there is to know. But that can wait for a bit. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed with too much too fast. As to your questions, your parents were powerful people.”
“In what way?”
“In the ways of magick.”
“Magick? I don’t understand.”
“You will. Eventually.”
“Who are you, and why do you think I’ll do anything you tell me to do?”
“You’re a lot like your mother,” he smiled, sadly. “She would have said the same thing.”
“How do you know my mom?”
“You must be tired,” he said, placing his napkin next to his plate.
“You haven’t told me anything helpful.”
“I’m sure it seems that way to you.”
“It doesn’t seem that way, it is that way and I don’t even read books that drag things out. So tell me, or I’m leaving. Who are you, and how do you know my mother? And how long before I can kill the men who murdered my parents?”
“Years?”
“Years?”
“They are vampires, Sloane. They aren’t going anywhere.”
“I don’t want to wait years. The vampires who killed them don’t deserve years, when my parents have none.”
“I understand how you feel, but you won’t be…”
“Will you help me kill them, or not?”
“I will. But you won’t need my help, when it’s time.”
“I’m not waiting for time. I’ll do it without you, if you’re afraid.”
“You’ll die, if you go after them before you’re ready. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“They’ll make you one of them.”
“”I don’t have to listen to you, you know. I’m a…free…person.”
“No one is free, Sloane.”
“What could my parents have done, that was worth killing them for?”
“Everything. Now finish your dinner and let’s discuss the war in Ukraine.”
“Where’s Ukraine?”
is there a romance section
in bookstores
for men
where they leaf through the pages
of a book
hoping to find the place where
a woman is pressing her body
against an unwilling male
his back against the wall
his billowing shirt askew
as she leans in for a kiss
on his plump ruby lips
his eyes sparkling
with ready tears
as he tries
in vain
to push her away
yeah
didn’t think so
if this sounds stupid for men
why isn’t it stupid for women
books reinforce stereotypes
and keep women in their place
fulfill cultural norms
and support the status quo
just think about it
then read some urban fantasy
where women kick ass
and save themselves
unless
of course
it’s not your thing
Sloane…a short story in three parts (I think).
April 24, 2024
Sloane
means Raider
or Warrior
remember that
when you think of me
I’m not a small town girl. I am one hundred percent city born and bred. I don’t have a bunch of cozy friends I’ve known since first grade, when I lived on the farm, who are now pregnant. I didn’t inherent a bookstore in Paris from a dead relative I only saw twice when I was five, nor did I find a lost diary that informed me that my mother had an incredible affair with another man who was, in fact, my real father. No keys to a buried box, or safe. No skeletons in…okay, there were skeletons, but not the secret kind, the actual dead kind. In other words, you would never find me in a romance novel, or a mystery where the cat finds the one who pushed Mr. So and So, down the basement stairs where he broke his neck. If you’re looking for something like that to read, look somewhere else. Because what I am, is a stone cold killer.
My name is Sloane. Vampires murdered my parents, in front of me, when I was a child. Then they set our house on fire and left me there to die. A few minutes later, a man ran toward me, threw a blanket over me, and got me out of the house. He never said a single word, he just buckled me into his car and took me to a penthouse overlooking the lake. This is my story.
“Thank you, Devin,” said the man in the black suit, standing in front of me. “Hello, Sloane. My name is Miles. It’s very nice to meet you, even under these difficult circumstances.”
I just stood there, my hands balled into fists, smelling like smoke.
“You have my condolences,” he said, softly. “I have been in your place. I also saw my parents die at the hands of vampires.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Your mother and I were friends. I’ve known you since you were born.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Alas, it is still true.”
“You’re a vampire,” she said.
“I am, but I assure you, I mean you no harm. I’m a different kind of vampire.”
“I don’t know what that means,” she said.
“You have had a difficult day. You look tired and hungry. Would you like to rest, or have something to eat?”
“I want to go home.”
“This is your home now.”
“It’s not.”
“You’ll get used to to it. I promise,” he said, kindly.
“What do you want?”
“I think that discussion must wait until tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“You need to rest.”
“Don’t tell me what I need to do, or I’ll kill you.”
“Maybe one day you will, but that day is not today.” He nodded and a tall, woman came into the room. “Will you please take Sloane to her room and see that she has everything she wants, or needs.”
The woman stood in front of Sloane and said, “My name is Marie. I am here to care for you. I am a vampire and while a human could also care for you, humans lack the strength and speed to fight on your behalf, should the need arise. Do you understand?”
“I guess. But I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you believe that, but by the time you grow up, it will be absolutely true. Now let us get you cleaned up and situated. Follow me, please.”
Sloane turned toward Miles. “Will I be able to kill the men who murdered my parents?”
“You will,” he said, nodding at her. “You will be able to kill anyone you like. Even me. You have my word.”
She nodded at him and followed Marie.
AI generated art from: Pixabay
Rethinking Life 
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