Something was wrong.  I wasn't sure what it was, but I sure as hell wanted to find out.

The girls and I are a staple at Kelly's Nightclub on Friday nights. The liquor flows, the women get wild, and everybody has a good time. It's a small town and we're just friends blowing off steam after working all week. Tonight, a stranger sat at the end of the bar, quietly making love to his bottle of beer. He wasn't any ordinary stranger, not this one. He was drop dead gorgeous and put every other guy in the house to shame. That was the problem!  Why would this good-looking hunk of a man be sitting all alone, ignoring some hot chicks?  We'd spent the last ten minutes betting on whether he was gay, blind or a figment of our wild imaginations.

As the girls and I huddled in our booth, slamming tequila shots, none of us could tear our eyes off him. I couldn't decide if I missed my mouth with the shot glass or if drool was running down my face. My heart was palpitating so hard, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.  I never believed in love at first sight, but this hunk of a man had changed my viewpoint just by the way his fingers strummed the beer bottle. Running my tongue slowly across my lips, I wagered I was going to make him mine or die trying. Our raucous laughter carried across the bar and he raised his head, turning in our direction, and smiled. His smile could have melted every stick of butter in the house.

The band started playing one of those songs where you just have to get up and move. I slid out of the booth and walked out on the dance floor. I was glad I'd decided to wear my favorite pair of jeans. They fit like a glove to my voluptuous curves. I started swaying my hips to the music, knowing full well every living, breathing male had his eyes glued right where I wanted them. I prayed the stranger's eyes would like what they saw.

As the song ended, the usual crowd offered their cat whistles, their blatantly crude remarks, and of course, their appreciation of a woman's sexuality. I had no desire for any of it. There was only one man in this bar  I wanted to attract. I'd offered the bait. Now I waited to see if he was interested. I didn't have to wait long.

Standing at the edge of the dance floor was my heart's desire. He even looked better up close, if that was possible. Demanding the best performance of my life, I flashed a friendly smile in his direction before casually strolling toward the girls and our booth. Of course, they were climbing over top of each other trying to get a better look at the man I was about to snare.

The band started playing a slow dance just as I was about to slide back into the booth. The girls were giggling and jabbering like a brood of hens. His cologne drifted passed my nose, driving my senses wild, and giving me fair warning he was there. I appeared to be as cool as a cucumber, but my heart knew better. It was pounding so hard I almost couldn't breathe.

"Mind if I ask you to dance?" I tilted my eyes upward and found myself drowning in the brightest pair of Paul Newman eyes I had ever seen. Pools of blue were staring back at me, twinkling with a touch of amusement. Without waiting for an answer, he took my hand and effortlessly guided me onto the dance floor. Wrapping his arm around my waist, we began to move with the music. I was positive they were playing the greatest love song ever written.

"Well, pretty lady, you got a name?" Never in my lifetime had I met a man who looked, talked, and breathed pure, unadulterated sex appeal. I could see he found amusement in my temporary loss of words. "You can talk, right?"

"Of course! My name's Mary Beth." I flashed him the best smile I could conjure up at that moment. My imagination was running wild and I was attempting to rein it in a bit. I didn't want him to think I was some country bumpkin.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mary Beth. Folks call me Mason."

The remainder of the evening was something out of a fairytale. Mason played me like a fine fiddle. His every word, every move, was meant directly for my pleasure. As the night went on, our bodies molded closer and closer. The heat from his body was driving my desire off the charts. I never wanted the night to end.

When the bartender called last call, I excused myself and headed to the powder room. I knew the girls would be there, waiting to gossip about all the details. I hadn't even closed the door behind me when Betty, my best friend, started in on me.

"Mary Beth, what's got into you? I know you're always acting crazy, but you haven't left this guy's side tonight." She was leaning real close to my face, like my mother does when she's trying to get a point across. Betty wasn't my mother and I didn't like it.

"Back off, Betty. I can take care of myself." My voice sounded a tad snappish. Not to be outdone, Betty sneered at me with that know-it-all look of hers.

"Really! That's what you said when Billy had you cornered in the backroom of the gas station." She arched her eyebrows as if she really had one on me.

"Oh, my gosh, we were sixteen, Betty. I'm over legal age and I can do whatever with whomever I want."

"You're taking him home with you, aren't you? Mary Beth, please tell me you aren't. You know nothing about this guy, other than what your hormones are telling you."

I carefully applied a new layer of blazing red lipstick to my lips before responding to Betty's trite remark. "Listen, I'm tired of sleeping every night alone in that big old four poster bed. I don't see any harm in finding a little enjoyment in life. If he asks me, I'm agreeing. His place or mine."

I popped a mint into my mouth and stared at my best friend. "He's been a perfect gentleman all night. It'll be fine." Spinning around toward the door, I tossed one last remark in Betty's direction. "You'll be the first to hear all the delicious details in the morning." On that note, I left in search of the man of my dreams. I was sure Heaven awaited!

Mason was sitting at the bar when I came out of the powder room. He stood as I approached, smiling that wonderful smile of his.

"I could use a little coffee. Maybe we could find a nice quiet place in town."

"Everybody closes up shop early in this hick town. But I'd be happy to brew a pot if you'd like to come to my place." I waited, unable to breathe, wondering if this was my chance to be a fairy princess. Mason certainly met my requirements for Prince Charming.

"If you're sure it wouldn't be a bother. I'd love to sit and talk with you. Find out more about your life here in this small town." Mason leaned closer to me and whispered, "I'd like to have you to myself for awhile." I almost swooned on the spot. I couldn't imagine anything better than being alone with him.

We spent the next hour or so drinking coffee, talking about my job, growing up in a small town and about my dreams to some day escape to the big city life. Every time I tried to turn the conversation to Mason's life, he managed quite effectively to distract me.

Finally, with the lights turned down low, our conversation stopped and our body language began talking loud and clear. Each passionate kiss, every body movement, kindled the fire of desire building inside of us. As his fingers unbuttoned my blouse, I knew there would be no turning back. He didn't even have to ask, I was his.

Rising from the sofa, I took his hand in mine, hoping my eyes would do the speaking for me. He got up, wrapping me in his arms. His pressed his lips against my throat, slowly kissing me, moving down my chest. I'd never felt this passion with any other man. I wanted, no needed, to give myself to him. I didn't want him to stop his delicious kisses, but I didn't want the confines of our clothing either. I wanted to feel the heat of his body against my skin. I wanted us to be as one.

As we entered my bedroom, I could hear the telephone ringing across the room. Remembering Betty's earlier disapproval, a sigh escaped my lips. Mason's lips stopped kissing my neck and he looked at me, his eyes questioning the sigh.

"You okay with this?" I was overcome again by his chivalry. Any man I knew wouldn't have asked twice.

"Oh, yeah!" I sounded like a breathless Marilyn Monroe. I barely recognized my own voice. If I had been honest with myself, I really didn't recognize any of me. I was the stubborn, mule-headed girl that never let any of the guys get passed first base. Sure, I didn't find any harm in flirting with the guys at the bar, but I had never brought one of them home with me. This was a definite first.

I walked to the bed and pulled the quilt back. I was pleased I had always treated myself with satin sheets, red satin sheets. Maybe I had been planning for this very night all my life. I was glad I was ready.

"Mary Beth, do you mind if I use your bathroom. Guess all the beer and coffee is catching up with me." He actually looked embarrassed to ask.

"Of course, it's the first door on the left down the hall." I watched him walk out the bedroom door; his backside was as sexy as his front.

I lit the candles on the nightstand and began undressing.   As I finished unbuttoning my blouse, the soft, warm summer breeze drifted in through the open window. I shivered. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. An icy chill ran its fingers down my spine. My body was cold even though it was a hot summer night.  I couldn’t believe I was getting nervous. After all, I wasn't a school girl anymore.

The telephone rang. The sound irritated me. It was probably Betty and she'd pay for it tomorrow. Wasn't my fault she went home alone, was it?

The telephone rang again. Grabbing the receiver, I growled at the caller. "What?"

"Mary Beth, get out of there right now." Betty's voice was hysterical. She was carrying the "mother attitude" too far this time. My anger boiled over.

My voice hissed at her, "Get over it, Betty. Goodnight."

About to slam the receiver down, I heard another voice, a male voice. "Mary Beth, this is Dave." Dave was the Sheriff, Betty's cousin. I immediately sensed concern in his voice. "Get out of the house now. I have a squad car on the way."

"What's going on?" If this was a joke, I wasn't amused.

"Mason is a killer." I gasped as the telephone went dead. Mason's fingers had disconnected the call. My mind screamed this must be a mistake, but the once dreamy pools of blue were now cold as steel. I stepped backwards, edging toward the doorway. Those hands only moments ago were making my body feel alive, now grabbed me, gripping my arm like a vice. Pain shot up my arm and a whimper escaped my mouth.

"Mason, what's happening?" I tried to tell myself this was a nightmare and I would wake up any moment. Or maybe somebody's idea of a sick joke. My friends loved pranks. Maybe Mason was in on the joke. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?" I knew I was stammering. I couldn't help myself. Fear was rearing its ugly head.

"Your friend just told you, didn't she?" A quick bulletin flashed through my mind. He didn't know the police were on their way. He thought I was talking to Betty. I needed to stall for time.

"A killer? She was joking. Why would you want to kill me?" My throat ached and I struggled to get the words out. I needed to keep him talking. I didn't want to die.

A hysterical laugh rumbled from his throat. I couldn't believe this was even the same man I'd been flirting with all night. This man looked like the devil possessed him. He reached out his other hand and ran his fingers across my cheek. I flinched at his touch.

"You didn't mind my fingers on you a while ago, did ya? You're nothing but a cheap whore. Flashing yourself around, teasing the guys, taking them for whatever you can. I've seen your kind in every town."

My eyes filled with tears. I'd been so stupid. I had believed every touch, every word he'd uttered tonight. I was sure he was my Prince Charming. Instead, he was a killer planning to end my life. "Please, I didn't mean anything by it. We were just having fun."

That hysterical laugh of his rippled across the room again. I shook violently, pulling my arm, trying to loosen his grip. He laughed again. He let loose of my arm and I stumbled backwards, hitting the floor. I scrambled to get my feet under me as I tried to escape. I reached the living room when his hands grabbed me, lifting my feet off the floor. His fingers clamped around my neck, pressing harder and harder. The room began to spin. My mind was screaming. I couldn't breathe. My eyes lost focus and everything went black.

My next conscious moment was smelling salts rudely assaulting my nose. My hand flapped in the air, trying to push it away. My throat ached. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

"Oh my God." Pain shot through my body as I struggled to sit upright. My front room was a shambles. Glass from a broken lamp was scattered across the rug. Its shade was peeking out from under an overturned chair. My eyes focused on the white sheet covering what I assumed was Mason's body. I could see dark red bloodstains. My living room looked like a convention for police officers. A sigh escaped my lips. I could safely assume I wasn't dead.

"Mary Beth, thank God, you're alive." My eyes focused on the motherly voice as it entered my living room. I'd never been happier to see Betty in my entire life. I knew later I'd hear the "I told you so" lecture, but for now, concern and relief were written all over her face. Stepping over the broken glass, she knelt down beside me, squeezing my hand. "They wouldn't let me in any earlier, but Dave was tired of listening to my griping so he finally said I could see you. Are you okay?"

Before I could answer, an EMT wheeled in a gurney and they lifted me onto it. I managed a slight smile as they headed toward the ambulance. Before the door closed, Betty climbed in, too. "Don't be giving me any of your dirty looks, Stanley. I'm going to the hospital with Mary Beth in this ambulance. Do you understand?" Stanley simply shook his head and signaled the driver to leave.

On the ride to the hospital, Betty told me the whole story. She had stopped at the Police Station to see Dave, concerned I had taken a stranger home with me. Dave was in the process of telling her I was a grown woman and Betty should stop playing mother hen when he received a fax. Peering over his shoulder, Betty recognized the picture and screamed. She was staring at Mason's face. It was a bulletin about a serial killer wanted for six murders. He'd last been seen in Marion County, about 50 miles from our town. His last victim had lived long enough to describe him to a sketch artist.

After the frantic phone call, every police officer in town descended on my small home, smashing doors and windows in an attempt to save me. Mason had stood in the middle of the living room, choking me, refusing to surrender. With a battery of revolvers pointed at him, his hysterical laughter bounced off the walls. Without any further hesitation, Dave shot Mason between the eyes, those beautiful Paul Newman eyes.

I held Betty's hand as the tears began to spill from my eyes. I would never chastise my friend for worrying about my stubborn attitude again. She'd been in the right place at the right time. I owed her my life!

















"

“Daddy, help him…”  

Danny’s gut twisted. He’d tried everything.

They’d been through a lot. He’d been shot and confined to bed. His wife died from an aneurysm. Randy started wetting the bed and having nightmares.

“It’ll run its course.”

"He’s grieving; give him time.”

"It’s natural.”

He’d heard it all. It didn’t matter. His son needed his help. He didn’t know what to do.

                                                           * * * * * * *

Morning skies were gray. He stared out the window while Randy nibbled on a piece of toast.

Without looking up, the boy asked, “Do you see him?”

“See who?”

“The boy in the window.” He pointed toward the neighboring house.

“No one lives there. It’s boarded up.”

“He does! In the attic.”

“You playing tricks on me?”

“No! I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Head sagging, he climbed off the chair.

Danny’s heart splintered. He scooped Randy into his arms.

“You’re just like that officer. He said I was wrong about Mommy being sick.”

Tears welled in Danny’s eyes. He dialed his boss's number..

“Hey, Cap. It’s Danny.”

“You and the boy okay?”

“We’re working on it. The little guy’s still having nightmares.That’s the reason  I’m calling. Need a favor.”

“How can I help?”

“Randy insists someone’s in the attic next door.”

“Ain’t that house boarded up?”

“”It is, but he insists someone’s there. Maybe Frankie and Lou could swing by and take a look. Five minutes is all I’m asking. Just a quick look.”

“Sure, why not.”

“Thanks, Cap. I owe you.”



Several hours later, a squad car arrived.

 “Hey, Frankie. Lou. Appreciate you checking out the place.”

“Uncle Frankie!”  Randy scrambled down the steps. “You going to crack this case wide open?”

Ruffling the boy’s hair, he smiled,  “Well, me and Lou are following up on a pretty important lead. We gotta check it out.”

Randy  jumped up and down. “That’s my lead, Uncle Frankie. I told dad. Can I come? I want to come.”

“You know not every lead pans out. We might be wrong about this. Maybe no one’s  there, but this is official business so you have to stay here with your dad.”

Indignant, the boy muttered,  “OK, but we’re not wrong!”.

“Let Frank and Lou do their job. Let’s get coffee and cookies ready."

“They won’t have time,Daddy. They’re about to crack a case wide open.”

The two men shared understanding looks.  They walked toward the dilapidated house.


Moments later, Frankie stepped onto the porch. A boy clung to him.

Lou yelled into his radio, “Can’t believe it, Cap. Sure looks like the Wilson kid. Kidnapped about six months ago. Better get CSI over here.”

“Told you, Dad."

Chapter 3
Taken

By Begin Again

The afternoon sun filtered through the dust-laden blinds. My trembling fingers placed her favorite vinyl on the vintage record player. Closing my eyes, I envisioned her svelte body gliding effortlessly across the thread-worn carpet, her emerald eyes sparkling, and her sultry voice singing ...

Surround me with love, I need you beside me
I want you to hold and hide me
When this world is closin' in on me
Surround me with love, oh and I can make it
Whatever comes, you know I can take it
Just as long as you surround me with love ...

Tremors of pain racked my body. I slumped into the Queen Anne chair. A faint scent of Obsession clung to the dusty blue fabric. My heart lurched for a moment, imagining her standing nearby, and then the horrifying memories flooded my thoughts once again.

A year ago, Janna had been a budding artist. I'd returned from my second tour in Afghanistan, unable to cope with everyday life, and homeless. For different reasons, we'd both navigated daily to the city park. After weeks of pleading, I finally consented to let her paint my picture. While her brushes stroked the artist canvas, she chattered, drawing me out of my shell, bit by bit. Soon, I couldn't imagine a life without her.


On the day Janna finished the painting, we decided to share a picnic lunch along the riverbank. We chose a grassy knoll, semi-secluded by a row of lilac bushes. We laughed and nibbled cold chicken until our serene setting was shattered by a loud popping.

Without thinking, we jumped to our feet and peered through the bushes. Two men in long black trench coats stood over another man, riddling his body with bullets. Terrorized, a blood-curdling scream ripped from Janna's throat. Simultaneously, their heads jerked in our direction, and then toward the overweight beat-cop lumbering across the park toward them. A black sedan's tires screeched as it careened to a stop at the park's entrance. The doors flew open, the two men jumped in, and the car disappeared from sight.

Being the Good Samaritan, Janna provided the police sketch artist with a perfect description of the shooters. Their faces were plastered on every television screen along with the woman who had identified them.

Two weeks later, I arrived at Janna's studio apartment to find the entrance barricaded by police officers.

"What the hell's going on?" I screamed at one officer. "Where's Janna?"

"Do you know Miss O'Brien, Son?" His matter-of-fact voice grated against my raw nerves.

I tried to push past him, but another pair of arms grabbed me. He nodded at the officer, "It's okay. I'll take care of him."

Anger replaced my fear, seething through my body. "I don't need you or anyone else to take care of me." Tiny bits of spit spewed from my mouth. "Where's Janna? What are you and half the police force doing here?"

He guided me into the apartment. Years of combat couldn't prepare me for what was inside.

A large dark pool of blood spread across the linoleum. I choked. Fear raged through my trembling limbs. Shards of glass from the shattered mirror littered the floor. A chunk of Janna's long, silky blond hair clung to the broken frame. The sofa cushions were scattered around the room. Chair legs faced the ceiling.

Gulping for air, I leaned against the kitchen table, knocking over a wine glass. An imprint of Janna's ruby red lips kissed the rim. Unable to speak, my questioning eyes met the detective.

"I'm sorry, Son. We got a tip, but we were too late. She's gone."

"Gone?" The thought wouldn't register. Dumbfoundly, I repeated it again, "Gone? Gone where?"

The detective extended his arm toward me, offering his condolences, "I'm sorry ... she's dead."

"Nooo ... oh, God, nooo!" I slid down the wall, crumbling to the floor. "I told her not to do it, but you convinced her she wasn't in danger. Now she's dead?"

"We did our best but -"

"You did your best! Your stinking best couldn't protect her from those murdering thugs." Tears threatened to spill from my bloodshot eyes. "Where is she? I want to see her ... now."

"Afraid I can't let you do that, Jason. They did a number on her face, cut her up pretty bad."

An agonizing, guttural, animal cry exploded from deep within my body. It was impossible to think of her sweet face sliced to ribbons. "I don't care. I have to see her," I pleaded.

"You're not family. Rules are rules." Shaking his head, he could only repeat, "I'm sorry."

I stumbled into the bathroom, vomiting until my sides ached. Just like that, Janna was gone from my life.



After the funeral, I lived, breathed, and slept in the park, trying to relive those precious moments we shared. More and more, my thoughts grew darker and darker. I lost all reason for living.

Now, sitting in the empty apartment, the song's words spoke to me.

Sometimes when life's poison arrows shoot me to the ground
Dreams come fallin' down, friends just can't be found
I don't worry, I don't wonder, I know what to do
I don't go crazy, I just go for you ...

My eyes stared at the spot on the floor where she'd taken her last breath. Tears rolled down my face. For weeks, I begged God to take my life, too. He either wasn't listening or didn't understand. The cross I was carrying was too heavy. I needed to be with Janna and there was only one way that could happen. My fingers pressed against the cold barrel of the .38 in my coat pocket. Unconsciously, I'd prepared for this moment.

Sighing, I lifted my weary body from the chair, took one last look around the apartment, and slipped out the door. The cemetery was within walking distance. Oblivious to my surroundings, I trudged down the street, setting my plan in motion.

Passing a street vendor, I bought a bunch of golden daffodils. She always loved flowers. For the first time since her death, I felt I had a purpose. Today, I would once again be by her side.

Kneeling beside the grave, my body stopped trembling, replaced by a serene peace. I belonged with Janna.

Pulling the gun from my pocket, I ran my fingers along the cold barrel. I wasn't afraid to die. I welcomed it. Living without the woman I loved, I was already dead inside, anyhow.

I lifted the gun to my head, placing the barrel against my temple. Thoughts of Janna rushed through my mind. My heart pounded against my ribcage. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I'm coming, my love." My finger twitched against the trigger.

"You don't want to do that, Jason." A familiar voice shattered my pleasant thoughts.

Jerking my head toward the voice, my eyes stared into the steel blue ones of the detective. "Go away! Just let me end it."

The burly man inched closer to me, his eyes watched my finger stroke the trigger. "It's not what she wants -"

"She was my reason for living, without her, I can't go on."
Tears clouded my eyes. My hand wavered.

In one split second, the detective's fingers closed over the barrel of the gun, pulling it from my hand. "Just come along now."

"She's waiting for me, I know it!" Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I moaned, "Pleeease! I know she's waiting."

His strong arms lifted me from the ground, supporting my shaky legs. "You're right, Jason. She's waiting."

My eyes stared at her grave. "You don't understand. I can't do this alone. I need her."

"And she needs you." He gestured toward the road. Rays of sunshine filtered through the overcast sky. Another man stood next to the car. The car door opened.

I gasped. "How?"

His strong arms prevented my legs from folding beneath me as he smiled, then guided me toward the car. "She wouldn't go without you. So I guess it's the witness protection program for both of you."

She ran the remaining distance, and we fell into each other's arms, crying and kissing. My fingers touched the jagged scars on her face. Doubt clouded her eyes.

I pressed my palm against her chest. "I love you, Janna. You, what's inside, not your face." I gently kissed her lips.

Tears glistened in her eyes. "I love you, too."

The men ushered us into the car. Our new life was just beginning.












 

Author Notes

Charly McClain - Surround Me With Love Thank you Niko for the beautiful artwork.

Chapter 4
I'm Here!

By Begin Again

Gray clouds blanketed the sky. Bare trees and brown grass replaced the green manicured lawn.

A mother stood by her son's grave, remembering better days. Tears rolled down her cheek. She spoke aloud as if he was by her side.

"Everything's wrong, Michael. I can't do this anymore. Your sisters expect me to have the answers. I've lost my job. Your dad is very sick and can't work. I'm afraid. No one understands."

The clouds parted. The sun peeked through the hole. Looking upward, she smiled.

"Thank you for listening." A bit of heaven filled her heart giving her strength.

Author Notes

Write a story in 100 words.

Chapter 5
Never Again

By Begin Again

"I should have killed you; you good for nothing pig." Venom spewed from my mouth.


Every available crevice of the Charlotte County Courthouse was jammed with reporters, cameras, curiosity seekers, the town gossips, and professionals. Inside the courtroom, the hushed crowd exploded in pandemonium. Flashbulbs lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Judge William Baxter's gavel pounded against the desk.


"Miss, please be seated. It's only making matters worse." The bailiff's strong muscular arms urged me toward the bench, but his compassionate brown eyes told me another story.

"Carrie, please stop." My little sister, Shannon, tugged at my arm, pleading with me.

"Order ... order!" The judge's voice bellowed across the room. Slowly, the people returned to their seats, whispering their personal thoughts about the jury's findings.

"She's nothing but a lying whore," a voice hissed somewhere behind me.

"What a shame dragging a fine upstanding man like Jack through the mud."

"She's the one that should be on trial."

Mortified, I slumped against the wooden bench. Shannon buried her face against my chest, weeping softly. Instinctively, I wrapped my arm protectively around her trembling body, yet never taking my eyes off my stepfather and his 'I told you so' grin. On the other side of the aisle, our mother clung to his hand, the same one that had touched and probed every part of my unwilling body.


Not one of the jury members turned their head in my direction. Regardless of their unanimous decision, God and I knew Jack raped me. The ironic part was my mother was the key witness for the defense. On the witness stand, she'd sobbed hysterically, convincing each juror I was a promiscuous teenager with little if any respect for adult figures. When she testified Jack and she were out of town having a private rendezvous on the night in question, the entire courtroom nodded in confirmation, never questioning her honesty. Jack was one of the town's biggest benefactors, a prestigious lawyer, and an upstanding citizen.


Mother stepped across the aisle; a shiver ran down my spine when her cold, dark eyes met mine. Then, speaking barely above a whisper, she hissed, "Stay away from us, Carrie."

Shannon's grip tightened around my body, fearing the inevitable. Mother's cold, chiseled face visibly melted as she reached for my sister, "Come on, Sweetie, let's go home."

"Nooooo! Please, Mommy, we can't leave Carrie. We can't!" At ten, she was still very much an innocent child, her love equally divided between our mother and me.

"Shannon, people are watching us." Exerting pressure on my sister's arm, attempting inconspicuously to tug her away from me, Mother smiled, "Sweetie, be a good girl now. Maybe we can stop for ice cream on the way home."

"I don't want ice cream. I want my sister," she whimpered.

My heart shattered like a broken mirror, knowing neither she nor I had any control over the situation. The jury's not guilty verdict had sealed our fate; we were no longer a family.

Wiping away her tears with my fingers, I kissed Shannon's forehead before squeezing her tight. "It's okay, Shan. Everything's going to be alright."

"Nooo! Nothing's ever going to be the same again."

Our eyes met, and I knew at that moment, my baby sister understood the harsh realities of life.

"Free as a bird." My stomach somersaulted. Unable to breathe, I raised my head toward the deep rich, baritone voice. Jack's grin mocked me, "Nice try, Carrie. You gave it your best shot."

Sensing a scene brewing, Mother quickly interjected, "Honey, come on, let's go celebrate."

Pulling Shannon along, her high heels clicked against the marble floor, stopping a few feet away. "Jack, darling, forget about Carrie. It's over!"

Leaning close to my ear, he whispered, "We know it's not over, don't we?" Then, chortling, he joined my mother and sister, stopping every few feet to accept everyone's congratulations and best wishes.

My stomach churned, sending a foul taste into my throat. I searched for an escape, knowing the entire town waited outside the courtroom doors, people who now scorned me.

"Excuse me, Miss." A hand rested on my arm.

Reacting violently to the touch, I jerked away, visibly shivering.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you, Carrie." The soothing voice belonged to the bailiff. His eyes reminded me of a beagle our family once had, warm and gentle. "I thought you might prefer to use the back door."

His gentle words unlocked the dam; tears streamed down my face. "Oh, thank you."

Without another word, he ushered me away from the cruel, haunting eyes that mocked me.

Gramps, the compassionate bailiff, hovered over me like a doting grandparent during the next three months. I lived in a one-room apartment above his garage, worked packing groceries at his friend's corner store, and finished my senior year studies at home.

On rare occasions, Shannon and I secretly shared precious minutes together. The bubbly, vivacious little girl was no longer. Instead, her eyes were vacant, her speech cautious. Refusing to talk about home, she lived in the moment.

On a Friday afternoon in June, I was surprised but overjoyed to see Shannon riding her bicycle toward me as I returned from work. When she stopped, we hugged, and I sensed something different about her.

"What's up, Shan?" I quizzed.

"Mom's going out of town with Aunt Sharon this weekend, some convention, I guess."

"Yeah, are you going, too?" My heart slammed against my chest, praying she wasn't staying home alone with Jack.

"No, but I get to stay home alone. Mom says I'm big enough to know right from wrong."

"What about Jack?" My choppy breathing echoed in my ears.

"He was supposed to go with Mommy, but he has to work. We can spend the whole day together, and no one will know." For the first time since the trial, Shannon was bubbling with excitement.

"Wow, that's great. I have to work in the morning, but we can hang out after lunch. Maybe I can pick up some burgers and fries for lunch. Would you like that?"

"Yeah, just like it used to be. Just you and me, okay?"

I ruffled her hair. "Just you and me." Kissing her cheek, I added, "But you better get home before Mother starts looking for you."

"Right! See you tomorrow." She waved and rode away.

My spirits soared, already imagining spending several hours with Shannon. What a treat! I'd missed my pesky little sister more than I'd thought.

I spent the rest of the day and night planning for her visit. I wanted every moment to be memorable. I rented two of her favorite videos, bought her number one choice of ice cream, and stocked up on a variety of chips and dip for good measure. I was probably as excited as Shannon.

On Saturday morning, I couldn't keep my eyes off the clock, anxiously waiting for noon. The time dragged, but twelve o'clock finally arrived. Punching out, I hurried to Shaggie's, our favorite burger joint, ordered two double specials and two large orders of fries before sprinting the remainder of the way home.

Racing up the stairs, expecting to see Shannon, I yelled, "I'm home. Anyone hungry?"

No one answered. Scanning the room for signs she'd been here, my eyes saw a large orange piece of construction paper on the table. Recognizing the scrawl, my hand trembled as I picked it up and read it.

Carrie,

This morning, Dad told me he would be home at noon, and we were going shopping. I'm so sorry. You know I'd much rather be with you, but there's no way I can get out of it. I love you.

Please don't be mad!

Shan XXXOOO


Nausea swept over me as I raced to the bathroom, vomiting over and over until only dry heaves racked my body. Shuddering, I slid down the wall onto the floor, moaning in disbelief.

Please, dear God, don't let this happen. Please!

Flashbacks exploded in my head. Grotesque visions of Jack groping my breasts, slobbering and sweating on top of me as he rammed his manhood inside of me, tortured me. Unaware, I huddled on the bathroom floor, screaming until my throat was raw.

Drained, I struggled to my feet. Leaning against the sink, I looked into the mirror and shivered at the person staring back at me. Fear blazed in my eyes. Not fear for myself, but for my little sister.

I remembered the words Jack whispered in court - It's not over!

He was right! It would never be over unless someone stopped him. A plan began to form in my mind. I was the only person who could save Shannon.

Splashing cold water on my face, I continued to work things out in my head. Sporadically, I told myself I could be wrong, and it was an innocent shopping trip, but deep inside, I knew the truth.
Sweeping my hair into a ponytail, I put my plan into action and headed for Gramps' house.

Every Saturday, he had lunch with his cronies. Today was no exception. Entering the back door, the quiet silence calmed my jittery nerves a bit. Passing through the kitchen, I headed for my destination, Gramps' bedroom closet.

Opening the closet door, I pulled a black box from the shelf. It was locked, but I knew where to find the key. I got the key moving mechanically, unlocked the box, and removed the .38 Special and bullets. The barrel was cold against my hand.

My breathing was rapid. My heart was slamming against my ribcage. For a moment, I closed my eyes, expelling the air from my lungs. Slipping the gun into my waistband, I pushed the box across the closet floor with my foot and left the room.

Ten minutes later, I cautiously approached the house. First, I checked the garage for Jack's car. Opening the side door, I prayed, Please don't be there!

I almost screamed aloud when I saw the garage was empty. Jack's car was gone.

Thank you, God.

Relieved that Shannon wasn't in danger, at least for now, I leaned against the garage door, slowly letting my adrenalin dissipate. My haggard breathing returned to normal. My fingers touched the gun in my waistband; I was suddenly aware of how close I'd been to killing someone. Icy fingers strummed my spine.

Stepping out into the yard, I let my mind wander back to better days. Times when our real dad was alive and life was good. Brushing my eyes with the back of my hand, I prepared to leave, but something, beyond my control, drew me to the back door of the house.

What can it hurt? No one will know.

Until now, I hadn't realized how much I missed home. Trying the knob, I discovered it was unlocked. Stepping inside, the fresh scent of vanilla hung in the air. I inhaled the clean, fresh smell, remembering how my real dad loved it.

Crossing the kitchen, I stepped into the familiar front room, the crocheted afghans, the lace doilies, the coffee table where I'd fallen and lost my front tooth, the loveseat where I'd read stories to Shannon, and the tea set - the central focus of so many Saturday afternoons. Tears streamed down my face as I remembered the good times, the happy, carefree times, the times before Jack.

Thoughts of Jack dampened my spirits once more. I needed to leave before they returned from their shopping trip, but first, I decided to grab a few of my personal belongings, like my favorite shirts, some books, and a few CDs. Mom refused to give me anything until I apologized to Jack, which wasn't happening in this lifetime.

Checking the time, I decided I could safely go upstairs, get a few things, and leave with no one the wiser.

I climbed the stairs and headed to my room. Passing Shannon's bedroom, I froze.

What was that sound?  Did I imagine it?

I stood listening. Just when I was about to move, I heard it again. Without thinking, I slammed my body against Shannon's bedroom door, bursting into it. My eyes and brain registered the horrified look in my little sister's eyes as Jack's hands covered her mouth and his pants hung loosely around his knees.

"Oh God, you worthless piece of garbage. Let her go."

Tossing her across the bed, he bent to pull up his pants, laughing. "Did you come to take her place, Carrie?"

His demonic laughter disappeared as he stared down the barrel of Gramps' gun.

"You won't shoot me. You're afraid. Look at your hand shaking." He took a step toward me. "Give me the gun, Carrie."

"No!" I shouted. He stopped as I waved the gun at him. Shannon eased herself around the room, closer to me. Her wide eyes registered fear. "It's okay, go downstairs. I'll take care of this maggot. He won't touch you again."

For a second, my mind focused on Shannon. Jack seized the moment and rushed toward me. Without any thought, I fired the gun. The jolt sent me sprawling backward onto the floor. My ears were ringing, and voices were screaming. The room went black.

The next thing I remembered was Gramp's concerned face as he cradled my head in his lap. The room was buzzing with people, EMT's worked on the bullet hole in Jack's leg, police officers questioned Shannon, and Jack was cursing and swearing, reminding them how he'd have their jobs.

"What happened? How'd you get here, Gramps?" I tried to make sense of the situation.

"I came home and found the box on my closet floor. It wasn't hard to figure out what might be going on. I called for backup and raced over here."

"I'm glad you did." I sighed, "But I should have killed him."






















 

Chapter 6
Lonely Little Lilly

By Begin Again

Amidst the dazzling diamond dewdrops and green grass, Little Lily perched patiently upon a log, waiting for the misty morning's haze to silently slip away. The golden glow of the morning sun peeked perkily above the horizon, splashing sweet sunbeams across the beautiful backyard.

With heavy heart and sorrowful spirit, she mournfully missed her everyday play pals. Their family of five had joyously jammed into their sturdy station wagon and set out on an adventure at the sandy seashore. The two twins, Sally and Sue, and their boisterous brother, Bill, waved wildly from the windows as the car careened out of sight. Little Lilly  was left fretting, fussing, and fuming as she woefully wandered around wondering what to do without wonderful friends to wile away the time.

Little Lilly, dressed in a ruby red dress and matching shoes, lingered by the waterfall, listening to the lilting lyrics of the Oriole nearby. A whistling wind whispered hello, and then whisked away.

The gnarly, giant, oak tree spread its branches, offering a private place for her to dwell. Tightly tucking her knobby knees against her chest and resting a chubby cheek on top, she sighed and surveyed the garden; petulantly pondering on what tantalizing topic would wistfully wile away the mundane morning blues. Nothing, not a note of inspiration sprung forth as the fair maiden fretted with pen and pad in hand.

A scary spider spun a whimsical web, setting a sensuous trap for its prey. Mr. Robin Red Breast chirped and chattered to Brilliant Bluebird as they busily built baby bassinets for the family soon to be.

Butterflies danced daintily across colorful crocuses with purple and yellow bonnets bouncing in the breeze. Delicate daisies bobbed their heads in delight, too.

The teeny, tiny hummingbird flitted and fluttered from blossom and bloom, seeking succulent sweet nectar. The glistening glow of the sun warmed the waters where the fancy fish thrashed their tails.

A sluggish snail sat sunbathing on a shiny flat stone while a calico cat lazily lounged in the cascading columbine vines on top of the fence. Two rabbits ran rapidly beneath the ruby red rose bush with its threatening throng of thorns, as Bowser the Beagle deftly dug for a bone.

Magically, Mommy appeared with picnic basket in hand, filled with chocolate chip cookies and a peanut butter sandwich or two. She brought a round, red balloon, and Lilly let it float away. They watched and wondered where it went as it disappeared among the white clouds. Seeing how sad her darling daughter seemed, Mommy tried to make her smile by offering this song.


                               Sally went to the sea,
                               Sue, of course, went too.
                               Left Little Lilly all alone
                               With nothing else to do.

                               I tried to sing a little song,
                              A smile I hoped to bring.
                              Lilly finally cracked a little grin,
                             'Oh, Mommy, please don't sing.'

.

As the brown bushy squirrel scampered up the towering tree, the last shades of sunshine painted the sky with purple and pink hues.

The shiny stars sparkled above, and the mysterious man in the moon smiled goodnight.

Mommy murmured to Little Lilly that bedtime was near. Dressed in pretty, pastel pink pajamas, she snuggled beneath the soft sheets that smelled so fresh and clean.

Sighing, remembering the sights seen today, the little girl suddenly was inspired, Having shared her day with new friends, the kind that always stay, she'd written about the fancy flowers flouncing in the breeze, and the wild and wooly animals, and how they enjoyed their day. Little Lilly couldn't wait to share with Sally and Sue when they returned from the sandy seashore.

Drifting off to slumberland, she softly whispered, "Sweet Dreams, my Teddy Bear."

Author Notes

I have no idea what so ever if this is what I am suppose to do in a story using alliteration.... Alliteration is the repetition of the same letter at the beginning of two or more words immediately succeeding each other, or at short intervals. Example: The alarm clock clicking at one corner of my study cubicle showed the time as 1:30 a.m. Word Count: 618

Chapter 7
Innocent At Heart

By Begin Again

 
 
 









I’M NOT DEAD.
MEET ME TONIGHT AT GUIDO’S PIZZERIA.
TELL NO ONE.
 
My hands trembled as I reread the typed letter. Kneeling in the sultry sunshine at Megan’s grave, chills racked my body.
 
“Oh God, Megan, is this Gator’s doing?” Unaware of the tears streaming down my face, I glanced around the cemetery, expecting to see the man responsible for my best friend’s death, standing there, laughing at me. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.
 
Raising the letter above my head, I shook it violently. “I buried my best friend last week. Aren’t you satisfied?  How many more trophies do you need?”  No one had proof, but rumors said Gator, the leader of a motorcycle gang, had a wall of framed panties, representing his many conquests.
 
Most town people considered Megan a tramp, someone who lived on the wrong side of the tracks, and therefore, disposable. True, she liked to party with the best of them, dancing and drinking until dawn, or riding Harleys, but she’d never ever touched drugs, nor was she promiscuous, regardless of her reputation. When the coroner ruled her death accidental drug overdose, I was the only one screaming foul.
 
It didn’t matter to me that she was poor. I knew the real Megan, the one who wanted to be a social worker, helping others. Privately, she’d been taking online college courses, using my computer because she didn’t own one.
 
“I’m sorry. You deserved a better friend.”  I’d argued with Megan about her partying, telling her that Gator was dangerous. When she refused to listen, I told her to go, have fun, but she’d be sorry. “Maybe you’d be alive if I’d tried harder.”
 
Clutching the letter, I stumbled to my car.  Shivering, I closed the windows and locked the doors. My mind replayed Megan’s funeral. Except for a handful of town’s people and me, no one attended the closed casket memorial. In drizzling rain, the Police Chaplain and I followed the hearse to the cemetery, standing alone as the coffin was lowered into the ground. At the end, a line of Harleys roared past the sacred grounds, yelling obscenities and smashing beer bottles against the pavement. Still, someone refused to allow her to rest in peace.
 
Mindlessly, I started the car and drove out of the cemetery. I continued to drive around town, alternating between bouts of sobbing and hysterically screaming for justice for Megan.  Unable to clearly see the road any longer, I pulled to the curb and parked.  Images of Megan flashed before my eyes. Pounding my fists against the steering wheel, I screamed and pleaded for forgiveness until my throat ached with pain.
 
Finally spent, I scanned the area to see exactly where I had parked. Yellow police tape, used to mark off a crime scene, flapped in the gentle breeze. A torturous gurgle escaped my lips as I realized I was sitting outside the house where Megan had taken her last breath. 
 
Megan, are you trying to tell me something?
 
The letter had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, I smoothed out the crumpled paper and read it again. I’m not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido’s Pizzeria. Tell no one. 

Glancing at the house, I struggled to think straight. The coroner pronouncing Megan dead from an overdose, the funeral, and now this letter claiming she was alive – none of it made sense. I needed answers and what better place to start than where she died.
 
Sliding out from behind the wheel of the car, I scanned the area to see if anyone else was around to see me enter the house. Satisfied neither the police nor Gator’s people were watching, I hurried up the sidewalk, hoping it was unlocked. Turning the knob, I sighed in relief as the heavy door creaked and swung open. I stepped inside, closing it behind me.
 
The interior of the house was in shambles. Evidence of a wild party was everywhere. Shattered pieces of amber bottles dotted the well-worn carpet. Dark stains covered the wallpaper, indicating spots where beer bottles had smashed against the walls.  I gagged on the stench of dried vomit and urine. Boxes of half-eaten pizzas lay strewn across the room. A wary mouse scampered away as I moved through the room.
 
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, urging me to complete my mission. The local newspaper accountings reported that Megan had broken into the abandoned house, and had died alone from a cocaine overdose. The evidence in this room alone screamed denial.
 
Gathering courage, I gingerly stepped over the debris toward the dark stairway that led to the upstairs bedrooms, where Megan’s body was discovered. The first step moaned under the pressure of my foot, causing my heart to race. Pushing my back against the wall, I took another step up, looking up and down the stairs.  The door creaked and I froze, struggling to breathe.  I strained to hear anything, wondering if I was still alone.  The dead silence sent chills down my spine. I knew what I was doing was crazy, but something told me I owed it to my friend.  Trembling, I took another step up.
 
Terror ripped through me when I reached the top landing. Crimson stains of blood splattered the floor and wall. I refused to consider the possibilities of horror that had taken place in this house, tragedies that police, sworn to uphold the law, must have simply ignored.
 
Sunshine filtered through the crack of a partially opened door. I moved in that direction. Slowly, pushing it open, I stepped into a bedroom, and a sob ripped from my chest.  Filthy sheets lay twisted and tangled on a stained mattress. Knotted ropes dangled from the corner bedposts. Remnants of a white powder dusted the nightstand amidst beer bottles. Bending down, my trembling fingers picked up a ripped orange peasant top – the one Megan had been wearing that night.  Clutching it to my chest, spasms of sobs racked my body.
 
The sound of footsteps in the hallway penetrated my mind. My body was paralyzed, unable to move, I gasped for air. I waited for the unknown person or persons to enter the room, fearing I was about to meet the same tragic ending as Megan. My terrified eyes met my intruder as the room visibly began to spin. My mouth opened to scream as I collapsed to the floor.
 
                                            *****************

My eyelids fluttered as I tried to focus on the face only inches above mine, murmuring softly, “Tammy, can you hear me?”
 
“Oh, my God, Megan?” My hand flew to her face, touching every inch, trying to convince myself she was real. “How? I don’t understand.”
 
“We don’t have much time. An undercover team has been tracking Gator for some time, without ever being able to nail him. One of those guys infiltrated the gang. Matter of fact, he was the one responsible for putting the note on your car. Gator’s sick mind wants to pay you back for defending me.”
 
“But … you’re dead. I was at your funeral. The coroner said –“
 
“Listen to me. I only have a few minutes.” She glanced at a man standing in the doorway and then back at me. I pushed myself into a sitting position before she continued, “I was in a drug induced coma. They left me for dead, but the undercover officer was able to notify his team. After the rescue, they released the information that I was dead. I’ll be going into the witness protection system. Gator’s into some heavy stuff and they want to catch all of them.”
 
“How did you know I’d come here?”  I clung to Megan, afraid she’d disappear.
 
She smiled, “Tammy, I knew you wouldn’t ever believe I’d willingly taken drugs. You wouldn’t rest until the truth came out.”
 
“Megan, I should have stopped –“
 
“Shhh … it’s not your fault.”
 
“Megan, we have to go.”  The man in the doorway looked at his watch.
 
“Okay, just another minute.” He nodded and she spoke again, “Tonight is a set-up. Gator’s angry because of what you have been saying. Go home … someone is going to contact you from the squad.”
 
“Megan –“
 
We clung to each other. “I gotta go. Listen to what they tell you, Tammy.” She stood, her eyes filled with tears, “I love you, Tammy. You were always the best, believing in me. I’m going to have that house with a white picket fence. Oh yeah, and my degree.” Wiping away her tears, she hurried from the room. I listened to the footsteps running down the stairs. Megan was alive!
 
A man’s voice jolted me back to reality. “Tammy, you need to leave now. Go home and wait for someone to contact you about tonight.”  I nodded, struggled to my feet, taking one last look around the room before hurrying down the stairs and out to my car.
 
                                ************************

Dressed in a leather miniskirt, silk top and matching leather bolero, I walked into Guido’s Pizzeria, Megan’s favorite restaurant, glancing around the empty room. On a normal Friday night, we would be scrambling for a table. The emptiness was eerie. I chose a table in the center of the room, positioning myself facing the door. Nervous, my fingers played with the butterfly broach on the jacket.
 
Moments later, Gator and two of his goons entered the restaurant. The two men carefully canvassed the room before nodding an okay to their boss. Looking wide-eyed, I stood as he walked toward me. My chest rose and fell rapidly. He smiled, pleased with my fear.    
 
“Expecting someone?”  His satanic laugh rippled across the empty room.
 
Trembling, I stared as he lowered his six foot, two hundred something body into one of the chairs. My voice quivered, “What … What’s going on?”
 
“Sit,” he commanded as if I was his trained dog.  He waved his hand toward the chair I’d been sitting in, and spat the word again, “Sit.”

I lowered myself into the chair. The two goons slipped into a nearby booth. Gator clicked his fingers and two young girls appeared carrying a wine carafe, glasses and a basket of garlic cheese bread. Another one served the goons a pitcher of beer.
 
“Too bad about your friend. Sure will miss the good times with that one.” 
 
 
“Her name’s Megan.” My voice cracked. “Some people respect the dead.” 
 
“If I remember right, the slut was nothing more than a cocaine freak.” He lifted his glass in the air. “Here’s to one good lay.”  He chugged the wine. The young girl nervously ran forward to refill his empty glass. With one powerful hand, Gator shoved her and she toppled into the next table. “Leave us alone.”
 
Scrambling to her feet, she scurried to the kitchen. The other two girls followed closely behind.
 
“Megan would never have done the things you say.”
 
“Unfortunately, most of the town doesn’t believe you. Even the coroner said it was an accidental overdose.”
 
“You raped her and forced her to take those drugs.”
 
“I’d watch your mouth before you say something you’ll be sorry for.”
 
“What? You going to kill me too?”  I knew I was pressing my luck, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Or you going to have one of your goons do it for you?”
 
Gator grabbed my wrist, twisting it until I winced with pain. Laughing, he released me.

“Naw, baby, your friend, Megan, never knew what hit her.” Running his fingers across my cheek, he leered at me, “I’m going to make you feel every second of it. You’ll regret having crossed Gator.”
 
“Are you nuts? I’m not going anywhere with you.” I pulled my face away from his hand.
 
Like a bolt of lightning, his fingers snared my arm and yanked me to my feet. His face was inches from mine when he snarled, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of this place with me.” He nodded toward the kitchen. His two goons stood towering over the three young girls.
 
“They’re innocent children. Leave them alone.” My mind screamed for the owner or someone.
 
One of the men grabbed a girl’s long black ponytail and twisted it in his fist. She screamed, terrified. The man slapped her face with his powerful hand, sending her sailing to the floor.
 
“Either you oblige or the boys start having a little fun. This whole place is going to go up in flames.”
 
“You’ll rot in hell.” I spat in his face.
 
I felt the bite of his hand against my cheek. He bellowed across the room, “Torch the place.”
 
My right hand grabbed the wine carafe and swung it at his head, shattering it to pieces. Shocked, he let loose of my left wrist, stumbling backwards. I ran toward the door, colliding with a man in a dark blue suit. He pulled me outside, holding my terrified body.
 
An army of uniformed men burst into the room from every direction, guns drawn. Totally surprised, Gator and his two goons were quickly apprehended and cuffed.
 
I carefully removed the butterfly broach from my bolero and handed it to the man in the suit. “Did you get it all?”
 
“You did a fantastic job, Tammy. Amazing how a tiny microphone can fit inside a piece of jewelry.”
 
Satisfied that justice for Megan was served, I headed for my car and home, sweet home.

Chapter 8
First Class What?

By Begin Again

"No ... no ... stop the plane." Dropping my duffle bag, I pleaded with the attendant. A known procrastinator, I'd missed my flight.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. Flight 428 to Haiti has left the boarding area."

"Call them back! I have to be on it."

The plane taxied down the runway. I slumped into a chair.

I'd had five years to earn my inheritance by volunteering at a world disaster and my last available chance was gone.

"Excuse me, my name's Miguel." A man touched my shoulder. "I can help."

"Right," I snapped, "You can make the plane return?"

"No ... I can put you on another one."

"Haiti isn't allowing any more commercial flights."

"Not commercial, but my friend's plane is cleared." He pointed at a jet.

My hopes soared. "Will he take me?"

Fourteen hours of luxury flying. Could my luck have changed?

"Si, the doctor's plane is carrying medical supplies. We must hurry," Miguel replied.

My stilettos tap-tapped as we raced into the jet. The pilot's eyes widened, appreciating my leather mini skirt and silk blouse. I smiled and eased into one of the seats, exposing a generous portion of skin.

"Humph! She's a volunteer." He rolled his eyes at Miguel. "Hope that's not her whole wardrobe."

Indignant, I muttered, "Bet the jet's owner appreciates a well-dressed woman." I prepared for take-off, musing over the scrumptious but crass man at the helm.

The radio crackled. "Tanner, got room for bottled water and some stock?"

"Baggage area is loaded but there's room inside with Miss Fashion Plate." Exiting the cockpit, he flashed a devilish grin. My heart skipped a beat. "You might want to reconsider your outfit while we're adding some additional cargo."

Too bad your mouth doesn't match your looks, buddy. Hmmm ... maybe I would be more comfortable flying in shorts.

After scrounging in my duffle bag, I hurried to the bathroom to change.

Miguel knocked on the door. "Miss, the plane is taking off. You need to buckle up."

Prepared for a relaxing flight, I stepped out of the bathroom. I stopped, stunned at the cargo.

Miguel pushed me into a seat, fastening my seatbelt as the plane soared.

The luxurious jet had transformed into Old McDonald's Farm. Cows mooed. One swished her tail, slapping me in the face. Chickens flew over my seat, narrowly missing my head. Feathers floated in the air.

Miguel shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't time to pen them."

"My God, they'll ruin the plane. What will the owner say?" A pig rooted at my feet. I screamed and Miguel burst into laughter.

As soon as the plane leveled, I stormed to the cockpit, carefully sidestepping several cows and a pig.

What idiot puts livestock inside a luxury jet?

Edging myself into the co-pilot's chair, I demanded an explanation. "Whatever possessed you to put animals inside a plane? Are you crazy?"

"They needed a ride, just like you." His eyes danced.

"It's uncivilized. They'll ruin the plane. What will the doctor say?"

"Hmmm ... why don't you ask him?"

"I wish I could." An undesirable odor drifted into the cockpit. "Who is this saint, anyhow?"

"Me." He shook with laughter.

Maybe, the longest flight of my life was going to be worth it after all.

Author Notes

Words - 540

Chapter 9
When You Least Expect It

By Begin Again

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, in places we least expect them, and at times when our need is the greatest. In November of 1968, I was blessed with my hero.

Without any of the usual formalities, the hospital chaplain baptized my four-month-old son, Johnny and offered a prayer for his life. Terrified and alone, I kissed him, whispered how much I loved him, and then stood helplessly watching as the orderlies wheeled his crib into the operating room, knowing I might never see him alive again.

For days, the neurosurgeons and numerous specialists tried to prepare me for the obvious. In a last minute effort to save Johnny's life, they'd made the decision to insert a ventriculoperitoneal shunt to release the cerebrospinal fluid on his brain. The procedure was in the infancy stage at the hospital, but was the only way of giving my son a whisper of hope. Regretfully, they stressed that it was a last ditch attempt at saving his life, but reality was that he had little more than a 1% chance of survival.

Seven and a half grueling hours later, as I frantically paced the hallway, the operating doors opened and an orderly walked through the double doors. My knees buckled and tears streamed down my face. He was carrying a wide-awake Johnny, turban and all.

Later, Dr. Casey told me that half way through the surgery, in one of the most difficult and intricate times, Johnny awoke from the anesthesia and started cooing at them. He said everyone in the operating room could feel the jolt of inspiration he gave them. Because of his size, they were unable to give him any more anesthesia and the operation was completed with him awake.

To this day, whenever I think life's burdens are too much, I remember how a twelve-pound bundle of joy fought against all odds and won. When skilled professionals gave him little chance of survival, he fought the battle and triumphed.


Forty two years later, through tears of joy, I am still fortunate to be able kiss my hero every day.

Chapter 10
You're Caught!

By Begin Again

A massive winter storm hit America's eastern seaboard over the weekend causing hundreds of flight cancellations at airports up and down the coast. Waiting for boarding to begin, I prayed Mother Nature would repeat her performance, anything to stop me from getting on Flight 891 to Los Angeles.

                                    * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three hours earlier, having called for a taxi, I grabbed my carry-on bag and hurried outside when I heard a horn blasting. Much to my chagrin, it was my best friend, Heidi. She insisted on driving me to the airport. Of course, I'd argued that no one expecting a baby in two weeks needed to be behind the wheel of a car when the roads were treacherous, but she'd refused to change her mind. Luckily, our trip was uneventful and we arrived at the airport with time to spare. Instead of dropping me at the terminal doors, she pulled her car into a parking space and stopped. That's when I knew something was wrong.

"What's up, Heidi? Why didn't you just drop me off?"

"I have something to tell you. It's about the baby?" Her face would have been a good poster picture for Fright. My mind went wild, imagining the worst.

"Oh my God, nothing's wrong, is it? So help me if that bastard husband of yours has gotten you upset or hurt you in someway, I'll kill him." There was no love between her husband, Sam, and myself. From day one, I saw through his good looks and charm, but Heidi swore she loved him, needed him, regardless of his past. After dating him for three weeks, they showed up at my house to announce they'd been married in Vegas. Eight months later, my opinion of her husband had only deteriorated.

"Candice, stop. We only have a few minutes and I need to tell you something before you go to L.A."

"Okay, I'm listening." My nerves were sending electrical shots throughout my body.

Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes darted everywhere except straight at me. Finally, she took a deep breath and whispered, "The baby's not Sam's."

She dropped her eyes toward her stomach. She'd spoken so softly, I wasn't sure I'd heard what she said.

"What did you say?" A cold chill ran down my spine.

This time she raised her eyes, looked directly at me, and spoke clearly, "Sam isn't the father."

Her words had the same effect as if she'd sucker punched me in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. My best friend was about to deliver her first child any day and she was just now telling me her husband wasn't the father.

"Heidi, if this is a joke, it's not funny." She'd pulled some outrageous jokes in the past and I was actually praying this was one of them.

"It's not a joke."

"How long have you known? Does Sam know? Who's the father?" Questions started tumbling out of my mouth as I tried to scour my brain for some clue to this mystery.

"It's a guy I met when I volunteered during Katrina. Things just happened. After our three-week stint, we went our separate ways. He lived in Houston and worked as a pilot."

"What about Sam? Does he know?" All I could do was shake my head in total amazement.

"No, I met him the weekend I came home and three weeks later we were married. I didn't even know I was pregnant." She seemed calmer, more in control of the situation.

"How do you know it's not his?" Disbelief screamed at me.

"When I thought Sam had cheated on me only two weeks after our wedding day, I borrowed pills from my mom, just to calm my nerves. After I found out I was pregnant, I told the doctor. They did an amniocentesis just to be on the safe side. The test showed it was impossible for Sam to be the father." She took a big gulp of air before continuing, "We were getting along better. I wanted things to work. I didn't tell him."

For the first time in my life, I was dumbfounded. I had no idea what to say or think. We sat silent for several minutes and then Heidi suggested I had better go or I'd miss my flight. Regardless of my prayers, Mother Nature hadn't accommodated me and I boarded Flight 891, destination Los Angeles.

                                * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

During the past thirty minutes, my fork and shrimp salad danced a continuous minuet around my plate. My stomach was tied in knots as I tried inconspicuously to watch my best friend's husband exchange spit with a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour escort date. I wondered why he bothered registering at the hotel because if he groped her much more the act would be completed right here in the restaurant. Bile filled my throat. Regardless of what Heidi had done, I hated him and men like him.

I tensed as Sam stood, wrapping his arm possessively around the dark-haired woman, guiding her through the tables. I waited until they'd entered the hotel lobby and walked toward the elevator before leaving my secluded spot. As the elevator door closed, I left the restaurant.

"Candice." A tall, ex-football quarterback waved. I recognized his friendly face and quickly walked over to him.

"Joe, what a pleasant surprise." Having lived and worked in Los Angeles, I had many friends still in the area.

"I was in the office when Tom got your call. I volunteered to --" A small radio clipped to his belt beeped. Slipping it off the clip, he answered, "Go ahead."

"Suspect has entered and is under surveillance."

"Candice is with me."

"Great! Tell her it shouldn't be long now." The radio went dead and Joe's pearly whites gleamed at me.

"You heard him. The trap's about to snap."

Ten minutes later, Sam was escorted out of the hotel by the Los Angeles Vice Department, wearing a shiny pair of silver bracelets. He'd been arrested for solicitation and after confiscating six plastic wrapped squares of heroin from his suitcase, he was also charged with drug possession with the attempt to deliver.

Having worked in the department for six years, I'd called my ex-boss and explained the situation to him. Knowing Sam's habits of contacting one of the escort services whenever he visited L.A, it was easy to use one of their undercover operatives. As soon as he handed her the money, the team moved in and made the arrest. Score one for the home team.

Six hours later, I landed in New York, facing the strong possibility of losing a friendship. After claiming my luggage, I grabbed a cab and gave the driver Heidi's address.

I rang the doorbell and waited. My palms were sweaty and I was nursing a major headache, but I needed to be the one to tell Heidi about Sam. After ringing the bell again, she opened the door.

"Candice, why didn't you call? I would have picked you up at the airport." We exchanged hugs and I followed her into the front room. "Can I get you something to drink?" She waved her water bottle at me. "We're on a restricted beverage diet, but I'd be happy to get you a glass of wine."

"No, I'm fine, thank you. How are you feeling?" I was nervous, knowing what I had to say.

"I'm great. The doctor says the baby is full term. You might be Auntie Candice any day now." We laughed and shared a few minutes of small talk.

"Heidi, Sam was arrested today for solicitation and drug possession." I waited for her reaction.

"Candice, you're suppose to be my friend." Her voice was filled with anger.

"It had nothing to do with our friendship, Heidi."

"Of course, it did! You called in a favor in order to make Sam pay for his cheating."

"My department suspected Sam of drug dealing for some time. He was a smart operator and we couldn't nail him. When he went to Los Angeles, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation and I saw an opportunity for us to catch him, hoping he'd have drugs in his possession as well."

"I'm about to have a baby. How could you do this to me?" Tears flowed down her face, and for one moment, I actually felt sorry for her.

"At the airport, you told me the father of your baby was a pilot from Houston. Was his name Anthony?" I watched as her face went from sadness, to disbelief, to something akin to panic.

"How'd you know his name?" Her hands were trembling now.

"Anthony works for United Airlines and is based in Houston. A group of pilots volunteered during Katrina."

"But that doesn't explain how you know Anthony."

"The father of the baby you are carrying is my step-brother. When you told him about having a friend working Vice in New York, he contacted me to see if I would ask around the department if anyone knew you. See, Heidi, in those few short weeks, he'd fallen madly in love with you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I couldn't believe she still didn't understand.

"By the time I knew about it, you were married and I thought you were pregnant with Sam's baby, so I kept my mouth shut, hoping you'd be happy."

"I want you to leave, Candice. Get out of my house." When I remained seated, she screamed at me, "Get out, now!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Heidi. When I landed, I notified the team that Sam had provided detailed information regarding his supplier." I shivered as she slumped backwards in the chair. Fear was written all over her face.

"You wouldn't!" She spat the words at me.

"The arresting officers are waiting outside. You'll be taken into custody and held under guard at a medical facility until after you deliver the baby." Tears glistened in my eyes.

"What about my baby?" 

"Anthony will make a great father."

I stood and walked to the door, letting New York's finest arrest one of the biggest drug suppliers along the East Coast.

Chapter 11
A Loss Greater Than One

By Begin Again

I'd chosen a booth in the rear of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. I'd played the upcoming scene out in my mind a hundred times, but nothing washed away the dread building inside me.
 
I'd laid the leather binder to the side, unopened. It didn't matter because I'd read it repeatedly, agonizing over its contents. I'd probably still be carrying on a battle with myself if my brother and his wife hadn't written me a three-page letter, accusing me of keeping his rightful inheritance and threatening legal action if I didn't respond immediately.
 
Their letter arrived on Christmas Eve. I believed they hoped to disrupt my holidays. They had no way of knowing how wrong they were or why I hadn't shared the will.
 
Knowing my brother, I'd chosen a public place and asked him to come alone. As I watched him enter the restaurant, my heart was pounding. His Cheshire-cat grin told me exactly how he was feeling about our meeting.
 
As he slid into the booth, he laughed. "Guess the letter scared you, huh? We figured it would."
 
His cockiness was what I needed to send my concerns for his welfare straight into the trash. I no longer felt sorry for him. He'd refused to help care for my parents, using every empty excuse possible, but he still felt entitled.
 
"So, what have you been keeping from me? You should have known we wouldn't sit back and wait."
 
I'd rehearsed what I would say, but I couldn't remember a single word. I had always believed we shared the love of a brother and sister, but at that moment, I didn't know the stranger across the table. He didn't even have the decency to mention the holidays or the woman we called our mother. His focus was on the leather binder lying on the table.
 
His dark eyes met my misty ones. Part of me wanted to scream terrible obscenities at him, and part of me felt pity for who he was.
 
I took a deep breath and pulled the binder in front of us. He reached for it, and my trembling hands claimed it first. The words tumbled from my lips. "I'm sorry, but as the sole trustee and now owner of the trust, I can't allow you to read it."
 
"Why not? Hiding something?" His smirk was chilling. "Afraid you might not get everything?"
 
I choked back my tears and opened the binder, removing one page. I pushed it across the table. "I wasn't hiding anything. I was trying to protect you."
 
He grabbed the paper and read the highlighted sentence.
 
I, Margaret E., being of sound mind, exclude my son, Gene W. and his descendants, from any inheritance, with the sole provision, I provide him the amount of one dollar.
 
He crumpled the paper as I added, "That's what I've been hiding."
 

Chapter 12
The Magic of Love

By Begin Again

"Once upon a time—"
 
Cari squealed. "Oh Nana, tell us a story, not a fairy tale."
 
Her six-year-old sister, Camryn, snickered, "Yeah, Nana, we're too old for silly fairytales. Tell us a grownup story."
 
Nana's head rested against the back of her rocker. Her eyes were closed, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
 
"Nana, did you fall asleep?" Camryn stood near the rocker, peering into her grandmother's face. "She's not snoring, Cari."
 
"Oh, gosh, she's pretty old. She didn't die, did she?" Cari touched her grandmother's shriveled hand. "Nana, please don't be dead."
 
"Boo!" Nana sat straight up in her rocker, eyes flared open, and laughed. The girls screamed and ran into the house.
 
The screen door scraped across the floorboards as Carissa stood in the doorway. "Nana, are you scaring the girls?"
 
Nana could see the girls peeking from beneath Carissa's arm. "They said I was old and wondered if I was dead. I just let them know I am not." Nana laughed at the girls. "Come on. I promised a story, so let's get started."
 
After the girls settled around her feet, she gazed at the stars for a moment and sighed. "Do you believe in magic?"
 
"Sure, I saw Uncle Ty do magic tricks. He made a watch disappear." Camryn nudged her sister. "You remember those tricks, right?"
 
"Of course I do, but they're not real. That's why they're called tricks. You believe everything, Cam."
 
"This magic is different. It can get tricky, but it's the only magic you'll ever want to see if you believe."
 
"Tell us, Nana. I want to believe."
 
"Me, too."
 
"It's called the magic of love. If you love someone and truly believe, someday you'll find yourself dancing under the stars in your own fairy tale. Your Prince Charming will be better than Cinderella could ever imagine. His lips will taste like cotton candy, and his eyes will sparkle when he looks at you. You will be a Princess, a beautiful woman only he can see."
 
"Did you and Papa share magic?"
 
"Oh, yes. Papa will always be my Prince Charming."
 
"Even though he's gone?"
 
"Gone? Honey, Papa is right here." Nana touched her heart. "That's the magic of love."
 
"How do you know he's here?"
 
Tears glistened in Nana's eyes. "I just know. Besides, every night I sit on the porch, close my eyes, and he dances with me beneath the stars."
 
The girls squeezed their eyes tight and then peaked at the hill. As they squealed, the clouds drifted past the moon, "I can't see him, Nana."
 
"He's there. And when you fall in love, you'll find your Prince waiting for you, too."
 

Chapter 13
Trinity's Story

By Begin Again

Opulent was the word of the day!
 
Two local floral shops provided baskets of white gladiolus, long-stemmed white roses, white carnations, and lily of the valley. surrounded by delicate ferns and trailing vines of ivy. Blush-pink peonies added a soft touch of color.
 
Elaborate bows of satin and tulle adorned each church pew with two pink rosebuds in the center of them. Lovebirds chirped from cages near the stained-glass windows. Soft organ music greeted the guests as they took their places.
 
Today was Trinity’s day. A vision she dreamed of throughout her childhood. She’d imagined every flower, every song, every second of how the day would unfold. Her fairytale wedding with the love of her life remained etched in her mind.
 
The beautiful bride allowed herself one momentary glance at her reflection and smiled. The image staring back at her was breathtaking. Tears glistened in the corner of her eyes. She looked stunning, better than any of her dreams. She wondered if her mom and dad were watching from Heaven’s Gates.
 
No one would suspect her dress was homemade. She felt the love in every stitch, every seam, and every applique handstitched by the loving hands of her grandmother. Trinity’s dream dress was off the shoulder, bareback, and exposing her cleavage. Grandma envisioned a bit of modesty and added a white lacy shawl with touches of embroidered soft pink rosebuds. Trinity couldn’t deny the woman who raised her anything, especially something so perfect.
 
Trinity moved to the church entrance and peeked inside. To her amazement, her family and friends filled the pews. She imagined the people she didn’t recognize to be relatives of Paul. His influential family included doctors, lawyers, and even a few government officials. Today, the church served the rich and the poor.
 
The men and women she’d worked side by side for the last two years wore their military blues and filled two full pews. She knew she would miss their friendship. She’d depended on them, and now she vowed to keep them in her thoughts and prayers.
 
Outside, a row of freshly washed cars parked behind a shiny black limousine. Trinity gasped as she watched Paul, dressed in a black tuxedo, step from a car, double-parked near the entrance. He wore a tiny pink rosebud on his lapel. Butterflies danced throughout her body. She wanted to run her fingers through his thick black hair and kiss his lips, but she couldn’t just yet. She’d seen God’s vision and knew the moment would come.
 
The priest and two altar boys took their places. A male soloist stood to the right of the podium. The organist awaited her cue to begin. All the guests stood and turned to face the entrance door as the music started.
 
The young man cleared his throat, nodded, and let the words come from deep within his lungs, clearly sounding like Josh Groban, the original artist.

Trinity’s heart swelled with love and the glory of God as she listened to the words.
 
“You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains.
You raise me up to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong when I am on your shoulders.
You raise me up to more than I can be.”

She tightened her arm around Paul’s, praying he knew she would always be by his side. Trinity could feel the warm glow encircling them and knew God had blessed them. Their love would last through eternity.
 
Tears streamed down Paul’s face. Trinity wished she could make him see her dream. She desperately wanted him to feel her love and to know it would always be there for him. She wanted to share this day of celebration with him, even though it wasn’t what either of them had imagined.
 
Her angelic spirit walked with Paul, past weeping family and friends, as pallbearers moved her casket, draped in lace and white flowers, to the front of the altar. Her favorite picture sat nearby with a ribbon that read, “Rest in Peace.” Candles flickered everywhere in honor of her life.
 
She gently kissed Paul’s cheek before returning to her ultimate resting place as angels sang Hallelujah and the service began. Grandma hugged the embroidered shawl tight against her heart and wept as she whispered goodbye as Trinity’s story came to an end.
 

Chapter 14
Sealed With A Kiss

By Begin Again

I am one of those old-fashioned people who believe a man’s word and a handshake should seal the deal. I believe in respect and loyalty to all. I think if you love someone and promise them your heart, you don’t need a piece of paper to prove it. I was content to live my life within those thoughts.
 
What bothered me was discovering that my family was slipping away right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. In December 2016, my son-in-law was helicoptered to the hospital and was pronounced dead on arrival. In February 2017, my father complained of a side ache and four hours later died of sepsis. Shortly after that, we learned that my mom’s breast cancer had returned for the third time, and this time it had the upper hand. The doctors said the man I’d loved for the last twenty years was terminally ill.
 
During that time, I quickly learned to treat every day as if it might be our last. When my sweet mother asked us to be married before she died, neither of us thought about a piece of paper; her wish was all that mattered.
 
Our first date, twenty years prior, as a couple was in April. So we chose that month for a wedding. The first fresh signs of daffodils, budding trees, and chirping robins promised new beginnings in spring. Since a beach wedding was not an attainable dream, we decided my childhood backyard with the river flowing by would be perfect. Wheelbarrows of sand became our beach where we would stand and exchange our vows. Mother Nature gifted us with gusty winds and a twenty-degree drop in temperature on the day of our wedding, but it still was our day.
 
The Man of the Hour swore he would never wear a suit, but there he was, standing on the patio with a new black suit and a burgundy shirt. His forever sidekick, the walker, was at his side. As the bride, I wore a mauve gown with simple pearls in my sweptback hair. I was standing inside my mother’s home, watching everyone outside. When the music began, much to my surprise, the love of my life shoved his walker aside and shuffled down the grassy aisle. He hadn’t been able to walk alone for months. I stood wide-eyed and holding my breath while two relatives walked close by his side. When he reached the minister, he turned and smiled, giving thumbs up to the crowd. Someone pushed the walker to him, but he shook his head.
 
Pharrell Williams honored us by singing his single, “Happy,” by recording, of course. Our family started clapping to the music as my three grandchildren danced and twirled as they walked down the aisle. My oldest son took my arm and walked with me to the walkway entrance, then he laughed and spun his way merrily toward Mike, giving him a bear hug when he reached the end. Bursting with love and happiness, I danced, swayed, and sashayed to Pharrell’s rhythm till I arrived standing beside the man I loved.
 
As I reached the Man of The Hour, he took my hands in his while tears streamed down my big ole bear’s face. He tried to speak, but all he could manage was to mouth, “I love you.” I recited a short vow I’d prepared, and then he knocked me off my feet with his vows. I don’t recall the words because I was drowning in his eyes. The minister pronounced us man and wife, and we shared the kiss of a lifetime. The joining of our love, the kiss, and our lives was the best time of my life. The love of our family and friends washed over us as we became one, not only in our eyes and the world but in God’s eyes, too.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6Sxv-sUYtM


PHARRELL WILLIAMS - “HAPPY”
 

It might seem crazy what I am ’bout to say
Sunshine she’s here, you can take a break
I’m a hot air balloon that could go to space
With the air, like I don’t care, baby by the way

Huh (Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Here come bad news talking this and that (Yeah)
Well give me all you got, don’t hold back (Yeah)
Well I should probably warn you I’ll be just fine (Yeah)
No offence to you don’t waste your time
Here’s why

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Uh, bring me down
Can’t nothing, bring me down
My level’s too high to bring me down
Can’t nothing, bring me down, I said
Bring me down, can’t nothing
Bring me down
My level’s too high to bring me down
Can’t nothing, bring me down, I said

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Uh, bring me down (Happy, happy, happy, happy)
Can’t nothing (Happy, happy, happy, happy)
Bring me down, my level’s too high
To bring me down (Happy, happy, happy, happy)
Can’t nothing (Happy, happy, happy, happy)
Bring me down, I said

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you (ayy, ayy, ayy)
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you (hey)
(Because I’m happy)
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Come on

 

Author Notes

Sorry I did not know how to transfer the video for your convenience.

Chapter 15
It's A Serious Case of Whodunit

By Begin Again

Fortunately, it was family night, and it was Matthew’s turn to choose the movie. Unfortunately, he’d goofed around during study time and hadn’t finished his homework. Fortunately, he had two hours before it was time to watch the movie.
 
Unfortunately, he forgot his book bag at school and had to run back to get it. Fortunately, the janitor was cleaning the windows and recognized Matthew. Unfortunately, he’d left his keys in the office and Matthew had to wait for him to retrieve them.
 
Fortunately, once the door was unlocked, Matthew ran to his classroom. Unfortunately, his teacher was leaving. Fortunately, after Matthew explained, his teacher unlocked the door so Matthew could get his homework.
 
Unfortunately, Matthew met his friends on the way home and hung out for a while. Fortunately, Tim’s mother called him for dinner, so everyone headed to their homes. Unfortunately, it was Matthew’s turn to set the table. Fortunately, he washed his hands and completed his task just in time.
 
Unfortunately, Matthew’s favorite movie started as dinner ended. Fortunately, his parents didn’t know he had homework.
 
Unfortunately, his teacher would be upset. Fortunately, he hadn’t used the ‘dog ate it’ excuse lately. Unfortunately, Max would be blamed.
 

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