The loud slap to her face got the old man’s attention. He didn’t jerk his head around immediately; time had taken away much of his speed and all of his reflexes. When he did locate the source of the sound, he saw a tall white woman with long legs, a slim waist, and brilliant golden hair. As pretty as she was, he knew at any other time she would have looked better because, at that moment, she was being beaten by a man three times her size. 

The old man had been sitting on the bench at the train station for an unknown amount of time. The air was cool but calm, just as it always was. It reminded him of when he was a boy of fourteen. Spring was in the air, and the last traces of the cold Austrian winter had weakened and retreated into the mountains. It was the best time of his hard life before everything changed.

The old man, who now called himself Alois after his father, held a book in his hands, but his eyes never fell on its faded pages. The book was titled The Diary of Anne Frank.  Alois never read it. He didn’t want to. He awoke, and there it was. He tried throwing it away, but when he looked down, it would be at his side again. Instead of reading, Alois watched the sway of the trees and the hectic movement of the people. It was the Germans who attracted most of his attention. It had been some time since he had set foot on German soil. Though not born in the country, it was his home, and he regretted much of what he had done to it. That he still carried regrets from his life in his old bones was a miracle. He doubted very much that he would ever be forgiven, but still, he had hope.

Speaking of hope, the scene across the street that captured his attention was winding down. In the square, the large, young German man with a bald head violently shook the rather attractive young woman. Alois could tell the girl cared for the man because no matter how much abuse the man piled on, she never stopped trying to reason with him. Silly, girl, you cannot tame a lion. He is lost to you and himself. Alois knew what the man felt upon seeing the woman’s tears: nothing. The more she cried, the less human she became to him. If only she knew it was her love that he hated, pathetic child.

Finally, the young man, tired of the hitting game, pushed the woman down and left her crying in the dust. Alois wasn’t surprised when the man, lost in his thoughts, walked across the tracks, just missing an oncoming train. Never taking his eyes off the man, Alois took in his every feature, from the clothes he wore to his awkward stride. In an instant, he knew all about the man as if his soul was as easy to read as a children’s book. Alois continued to stare as the man approached.

“Damn, that was a close one. Fucking train almost hit me. What are you looking at, old man? You got a problem?” He stood over Alois and flexed the muscles in his arms.

“Has beating women become too easy for you, my boy? Do you wish to move on to the elderly now?” Alois smiled. He enjoyed watching the man’s face twitch as he desperately tried to think of a quick reply. Not too bright this one. Alois patted the empty seat beside him. “Have a seat, my boy. You may as well keep an old soul company while we wait for the train.”

“How do you know I’m going your way, pops?”  He grinned at Alois.

“A man’s actions always dictate his destination, Frankie.” He again patted the space next to him. “You and I have much in common.”

“The hell we do, Gramps. You ain’t nothing compared to me. Wait, how do you know my name?” Frankie sat down despite his words as the old man ignored his question.

Alois moved an old hand over his book and then turned to Frankie. “The hate feels good, doesn’t it? I remember the first time I fully embraced it. The thrill, the rush, the power, it was addicting - for all of us.” Alois sighed and closed his eyes as if he was reliving the past. “It’s an illusion, you know? The power. It’s fleeting, and the cost… oh, the cost is higher than you can imagine.”

“What the hell do-”

“Please.” Alois cut the man off with a wave of his hand. “We try not to use that word here.”

“I’ll say what the hell, I-”

With speed bordering on supernatural, one old hand reached out and grasped Frankie’s wrist in an iron grip.

Instantly, Frankie’s eyes clouded over, and tears ran down his face. A sickening cry escaped from his trembling lips as he crumbled to his knees.

Alois closed his eyes and opened his soul. Pictures of endless trains, reeking with death and despair, flew across two minds. Alois smiled at scenes of bombs bursting in the air and flames falling from the skies like sheets of acid rain. The pitiful screams of burning children running in terror as their skin melted the skin from their small bones echoed in the ears of both men. Alois opened his eyes and looked over at the sobbing man.

“The images you saw are real terror, Frankie, real fear, real pain, and the true face of hate. It is the type of hatred that burns nations, destroys lives, guts children, rapes women, castrates men, and brings a world to the brink of destruction.  You think you know evil, Frankie? Do you think your pitiful actions make you someone to be feared? Do you imagine you deserve to speak in my presence?”

Alois rose from his seat, and as the sunlight flickered, so did his form. One instant, an old man was standing over a young man, and then, for the briefest of moments, something far stronger, far older, and something Frankie had only seen in history books or on war movies stood by the bench. It was a form and a face that once made an entire world shake with fear.

“Please. Please,” Frankie cried.

The sunlight flickered again, and the old man was once more sitting on the bench holding his unread book.

Frankie slumped down beside the bench and wiped the tears from his eyes. Slowly and with reluctance, he turned his watery eyes to the old man. “You’re, you are him, but he’s dead.  This can’t be.”

“Oh, but it can, my young pupil. The dead cannot speak to the living, and the living cannot see the dead, but here we are.” Alois turned towards Frankie, and a wide grin formed on his wrinkled face. “I believe even one of your low intelligence can figure the rest out.”

Frankie turned his gaze back to the tracks and, for the first time, noticed that the flickering light he assumed belonged to the sun belonged to police cars and an ambulance. Standing in the arms of a tall, handsome policeman was his crying ex-girlfriend.

“Why?” uttered Frankie.

“Why? You ask why? Why is she crying for you? Why are you dead? Why did you end up next to me? I have only the answer to the last, and that is because you chose the path of least resistance. You chose the path of evil. You wanted to feel the power over those you deemed unworthy, less than human. I know this because I did it, too. It’s only when you strip the humanity from others that you can devalue them, destroy them, and use them for your amusement.”

Just then, a dark train, no one else appeared to see, silently rolled up the tracks and stopped before the two damned souls.

“Your ride is here, my boy. I’m afraid this is a trip you must take alone, for I am forever barred from ever riding a train,” Alois said, now dressed in an all-black uniform with his favorite insignia shining in the light. “Don’t worry, boy; I’m sure that handsome young officer will take good care of your lady and child.”

“What? Child. No, no!” Frankie tried to resist but found himself pulled into the train. “Wait, wait!” The doors closed, silencing his screams. As the train began to move, the old man leaned back on the bench and, with trembling fingers, caressed a book he could not burn and was too afraid to open.

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Jaylen slammed the front door, then stomped past his wife.

“Jay, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” Tameka pulled her soapy hands from the sink, then approached Jaylen.

Jaylen paced around the kitchen. His face was sweaty, and veins pulsated at his temples below his sparse grey hair. Jaylen paused and looked at his wife. “I think it’s time.”

Tameka closed her eyes and loudly exhaled. Her head shook slightly from side to side. “Honey, we’ve been over this. We don’t-”

Jaylen banged his fist on the counter. “I don’t care, Tameka. Do you hear me? I don’t give a damn about taking a hit. I don’t care if we have to move into the smallest apartment we can find. I’ve had it.”

Tameka wiped her wet hands on a towel, then leaned back on the counter. She silently watched her husband as the sweat dried from his face and his breathing slowed. When she was sure his mad had passed, as she called it, Tameka softly spoke, “Babe, I can’t fully understand unless you tell me what-” She suddenly gasped, covered her mouth, and stared at the bulge on his right hip.

Jaylen caught her gaze, then shook his head. “No. I didn’t shoot anyone. Though the ignorant nig- thugs deserved it.”

Tameka felt her own heart pound and pulse race. “Did they try to rob you again?”

Jaylen smiled. “I almost wished they had.” He closed his eyes, then looked at his wife. “I can’t believe I said that, but it’s true. I wanted to, Tameka. I really wanted to end them. I could feel it. Hell, I still feel it. I didn’t think I would feel that again. Not in my own country, my own home.”

Tameka stepped closer to her husband of thirty years and placed a warm hand on his still-firm chest. “What happened?”

“What happened was we made a mistake. Not today, but ten years ago.”

Tameka leaned her head on Jaylen’s shoulder. “We, not you, did what we thought was right. Even if those who benefitted don’t appreciate it, and even if things in our community have gone downhill-”

“Gone to hell, you mean.”

“Maybe so.” Tameka stood upright and stared into her man’s soulful brown eyes. “Still, we found a little slice of paradise, and we wanted to share it with less fortunate people – our people.”

Jaylen pulled away. “No! These are not my people, and they aren’t yours either. Their skin may be the same shade as ours, but that’s it.” He tapped his head and chest. “On the inside, we’re completely different. You and I worked hard to get where we are. We made sacrifices, earned what we have, actually raised our children the right way, together.” He lowered his eyes and bit his lip. “Children, who won’t even bring their kids home, and I can’t blame them. Jesus, woman, did you ever think… did you imagine when we voted to allow section eight trash into-”

“Not trash, Jay. We voted to give low-income families a chance to raise their kids in a better environment than we grew up in. We voted to give people what we have.” She rolled her eyes. “What we had.”

“Now, I can’t even walk to the mailroom without walking into a gang meeting held by armed teenagers. Goddamn gun-toting tattooed sixteen-year-old kids telling me I have to come back later to get my mail. My mail. In my mailroom. Kids, Tameka. Little ghetto, nappy-headed, empty-headed, fatherless niggas.”

“Jaylen!”

“No, Tameka. I’m not sorry to say it because that’s what they are. They came in and ruined a once great community. Our schools used to be at the top in every category in the state. Now, over half the kids in our schools can’t read at grade level, and no teacher wants to work for the district. And what’s worse. No one wants to talk about it. No one wants to admit what we all know and see. What we’re all running from. We're all cowering with our eyes wide shut. Dammit!”

Tameka sighed. “I understand your frustration. I’m frustrated too. I’ve sponsored so many programs for parents, only to see them laugh in my face, try to fight me, or call me a sell-out. But still, we can’t give up. We can’t call them.. that word. Never that word, Jaylen.”

“Niggas.” He glared at Tameka. “Listen to me. If they can look at a man who served and fought for his country for twenty-five years, fought for them to have a better life – If they say to me: Old nigga, get your ass out of here before we cap you. And then laugh.”

A tear rolled down Tameka’s face as she gazed into Jaylen’s eyes and felt his pain. She didn’t say it, but she knew for a man as proud as her husband to be so insulted, disrespected, and wronged, then to walk away. It was no wonder he was so filled with rage.

Tameka nodded. “Okay. Okay, Jay. We’ll leave. We can start looking for a small place closer to Mike and the kids. Rachele said she has problems finding daycare for Timmy and Pauline. A place near them would allow us to watch them.” She looked around. “We can put this house on the market Monday. We won’t get back what we paid for it, but even half would be good.”

Jaylen wrapped his arms around his wife. “Thank you. I know you love this house. I love it too. But I love you more, and-”

Tameka buried her face into his chest. “I know. It’s not safe here anymore. I know we’ll find safety again.”

Jaylen looked to his living room window as flashing red and blue lights passed for the umpteenth time. Then he thought, Yeah, a safe place, until they find us again.

Author Notes

Note: Yes, the word: Nigga is used, and yes, I know that and the photo turns many off. If I removed them and changed the all the characters white (or made it about white racism from 1950), then I would have dozens more reviews. But I am not going to do that. As far as the word nigga is concerned. Any writer or artist should understand that CONTEXT matters. It's context that defines the impact and meaning of word. Every artist should know this.

Chapter 9
My Origin Story?

By lancellot

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.

“You need to calm down.” My dad barely glanced at me as he set his beer down and laid his feet on the coffee table.

I held my tongue as I could see he was getting comfortable. He had already drunk two full cans of beer and had yet to dismiss his annoying son, so I had high hopes for a story.

Dad tilted his head back and took a deep breath. “How did it happen? Well, everyone wants to know how they came into this world, so I knew you would ask one day.”  Dad shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “You’re sixteen. I guess you’re old enough to hear the real story.” 

I was only twelve, but whatever, Dad was talking.

He took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. “Back then, I was a green second lieutenant stationed just outside Saigon. I was naive twenty, skinny as a twig, with a mop of red straw on my head and a face full of freckles. If you don’t know, that means I was butt ugly. Till then, the only woman I’d ever kissed was your grandmother, and back then, she smoked a pack a day.

“In addition to being ugly, I was an awful Marine. I didn’t command any men for good reasons. Officers like me either got their men killed, or they accidentally fell on their sidearms and shot themselves a dozen times in the front and back.

“Since your pop was so damn useless, the only job they gave me was transporting prisoners between holding cells.” He shrugged. “But, since I was kind of on the weak side, I got overpowered by the POWs a few times. I mean, those guys may have been short, but they were pretty strong.” Dad sighed.

“Eventually, the major assigned me to transport the few female prisoners we had. He figured I could handle moving one gal at a time. Plus, they didn’t speak any English, and I didn’t understand any of that Kung-foo gibberish they were screeching, so they couldn’t trick me.

“Did I mention I had a chronic case of bad luck?” I shook my head. Dad continued, “Well, I did. Damn awful at cards. I couldn’t keep a dollar in my pocket. Anyway, one night, I was moving this pretty young thing from one building to another when air-raid sirens started going off out of nowhere. Well, let me tell you. When you hear the horns, you forget what you’re doing and start running. Now, your poppa is a lot of things, but I’m no coward. I would never leave a woman in distress. So, I grabbed the female by her arm and pulled her along, but she was damn slow. I didn’t know if it was because she was a little thing with short legs or because of those god-awful black pajamas she wore.” He shrugged.

“Well, at the time, I guessed it was the pajamas that made her slow.” He looked up at the ceiling. “So, I grabbed her waistband, and I yanked the bottoms right off her. Well, let me tell you, even with the bombs going off and bullets flying, she—” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I suppose there’s no point in delaying it. You probably figured it out by now. Seeing as you take after your mother in the brains department. That woman didn’t have no britches on.” He smiles. “Yeah, she was butt-ass naked from the waist down and none too happy about it. I guess she was chattering about it, but I paid her no mind. I just dragged her behind some sandbags for cover.

“Well, we stayed there for some time while everything around us was either in flames or just plain gone. Then, finally, it was in the middle of the night when we lost all hope. I thought we’d die any minute, and I guess she figured the same. So we huddled together under them bags, holding on to each other for dear life, or I suppose so that we wouldn’t die alone.” Dad tilted his head to the side.

“That's when she started whispering to me. Like I said I didn’t understand baby talk, but when she lay her hand on my Johnson. Well, there are languages every man and every woman knows. I was a certified virgin, and I guess she was too, and who wants to die a virgin? No one. Not her, and as I felt my little fella growing, neither did I. So, I dropped my britches, and she climbed on me.

“It was the best time of my miserable life. She kept moaning and babbling away, and I just said yes. What did it matter? We were going to die anyway. I knew I was going to hell. So, I enjoyed what little bit of Heaven I could get. To make a long story short. Not that your pappa has a short fuse or anything. She hit Heaven two or three times, and I was just about bursting through them pearly gates myself when I looked up and saw the business end of a Vietcong rifle pointed at me.

“Now, she’s one of them. So, you would think she’d hop right off me and run to her comrade.” Dad shook his head. “Nope, she started yelling at him in their funny language and then wrapped her arms around my neck and held me close.

“I see the guy smile, slip his finger on the trigger, and then… boom!” Dad threw his hands in the air and wiggled his fingers. “A bomb went off right behind him, and the world turned black.” Dad took a deep breath and then reached for the TV remote.

I was stunned and engrossed. “Don’t stop now. What happened? You clearly didn’t die.” I pulled on his arm as I pleaded with him to continue.

Dad nodded. “Well, of course, I didn’t die. Anyway, we both woke up the next morning. She was still on top of me. There was a mess between us and a mess over us. It turned out we were half-buried under the Vietcong’s dead body, sand, and debris. So, no one noticed us. When we climbed out of that hole, she kissed me on the lips and headed north. I watched her naked dusty bottom until she vanished in the bush." Dad laughed. "Get it? In the bush, Ha! Anyway, after that, I headed south to the nearest Marine base. I never knew her name or saw her again.”

I shook my head in disbelief and stared at my dad. “What do you mean you never saw her again? You married her, moved to the States, and had me, right?”

Dad looked at me and laughed. “Heck no. I met your mama in a bar she ran in North Saigon the day before I shipped out. I couldn’t pay my bar tab, so she made me take her to America instead. She got pregnant with you the first time we did it.” He shrugged. “So, I married her. The End.”

Words can’t express my feelings about my dad, but I hope the above explains why I never bring girls over to meet my folks.

Chapter 10
The Evil in the Window

By lancellot

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

Dad towered over me with trembling lips and bloodshot eyes. “What happened?” he growled.

I swallowed my tears and wiped my runny nose. “Bobby, the neighbor’s kid. He, he’s been bullying me. He took my trip money. I – I, um... I told his dad, but he just laughed. Can you give me...”

Dad stormed outside, then sprinted to the house across the street.

Shocked, I ran after him as fast as my shorter legs could carry me. I caught him as he pounded on the door.

The door opened. “What the hell?”

That was all heard before Dad began hitting the man until blood flew, and the fat guy fell to the ground.

“You want to raise a bully. Bully my kid, ha.” Dad straddled him and kept punching, slapping, and pounding with blood, teeth, and... stuff popping into the air between the blur of his fists.

“Dad, dad.” I tried grabbing him, but he easily pushed me off. “Stop, Dad stop!” I screamed.

“Is it funny now? Is it?” Dad punched the unmoving man a few more times in the red, purple, and white hole where a nose should've been before he finally stopped. He looked from the man’s disfigured face, into the empty house, then back at me. “Where’s the little bastard? Where’s Bobby?”

Almost too afraid to speak to the demon wearing my father’s skin, I took a step back, and with one badly trembling finger, pointed to the blue house next to ours. “Bobby lives over there.”

Flashing blue and red lights reflected in my father’s  glassy eyes as his  saliva covered lips formed one word, “Shit!”

That was the last thing I heard from my father before the police took him away. I heard one of the officers say something about a state senator and reconstructive surgery before my sobbing mother collapsed.

I don’t get therapy anymore. The costs were too high. After we lost the house, Mom and I moved to Nebraska to live on my grandparents' farm. I spend most days just sitting in the window. There are not many kids around my age, but the animals are nice. My mom said I’d probably see Dad again a few years after I graduate college, God willing. She also said I shouldn’t expect him to be the same; that bad things happen in prison, really bad things. I thought she meant Dad getting sad without visits, but now I think she meant something else.

Dad writes me every week. I haven’t written him back. How can I? How do I tell him I spent my trip money on candy? How do I tell my father, he traded twenty-five years for an evil child's five dollar lie? They say evil people go to prison. Sometimes, they don't. Sometimes, they just sit in the window.

Chapter 11
A New World

By lancellot

Jason stared at the swollen purple eye in his reflection. His fingers gingerly probed the ugliness.

Rick, Jason’s roommate, grinned. “Staring at it isn’t going to make it go away. And, really, one of the women inside will think you’re gawking at them. Quit it.”

“But it’s so puffy. I think it’s infected.” Jason tried to hide his eye from the other men seated outside.

Rick laughed. “That’s what you get. They banned football for a reason. One of these days, you’re going to get caught. Going to porn sites on the dark web is bad enough, but the toxic mascu-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason turned from the coffee shop’s window, then shook his head. “This is the worst day of my life. How am I going to explain this to Kathy? First, I had to take a week’s worth of T-suppressors before she agreed to go out with me. Now this.”

“Sheesh, that explains the football. I hope she’s worth it.” Rick frowned. “Wait. Kathy? I thought you were dating Melissa.”

Jason turned his head and watched two police officers exit a campus police cruiser. “I was. We broke up two weeks ago.”

Rick glanced at the cops as they began crossing the street. “Broke-up. I thought you two were a couple. I slept at our awful sorority-approved frat house so you could have the room. And you never leave the room when Consuela and I hook up. She’s starting to think you’re watching. They still do that stuff in Columbia.”

“I am watching. Your ass is awesome. So muscular when you’re close, and how you call out, ‘I love you, Consuela. I love you. Ooh!’”

Rick threw his paper straw into Jason’s face. “Laugh all you want. She’s going to sponsor my immigration. Then I’m free. You wait and see.”

Jason set his drink down and watched the officers walk in their direction. “Anyway, Melissa is way shyer than any girl I dated. And that was the worse sex I ever had. Felt like I was humping a log. I just wanted it over. She told me afterward that it was her first time. Well, it was our last time. Something is wrong with her. She wouldn’t stop calling and texting me. Day after day, hour after hour. What are you doing? What if I’m pregnant? Why do I still feel it? On and on. So, finally, I just left.”

Rick swallowed and set his drink down as the two female officers stopped at their table. “Can we help you, Officers?”

The taller of the two took off her sunglasses and glared at Rick. “I’m Corporal Hicks.” She tilted her head. “This is Officer Sampson. We’re looking for a Jason Beverly.”

Rick’s eyes briefly went to his friend then he quickly looked away. “Why are you looking for him?”

Officer Sampson slowly moved behind Jason’s chair with one hand on her taser.

Corporal Hicks turned to Jason. “Are you Jason Beverly?”

Sweat began to build on Jason’s face. His fingers twitched, and he set his feet firmly on the ground.

Officer Sampson placed a hand on Jason’s wrist. “Stand up for me. Do it slowly, and don’t flex on me, boy.”

Jason’s entire body tingled, and his eyes darted between the two small women. He began to stand. “What did I do? Why are you looking for me?”

Rick’s hands balled into fists, and he began to rise.

Corporal Hick’s looked at Rick. Her eyes narrowed, and her right hand moved to her taser.

Rick opened his hands and put his butt back into his chair. 

Officer Sampson pressed Jason against the shop window. “You’re not under arrest. You’re just being detained. I’m going to cuff you for my safety.” She began pulling his right arm behind his back. “Place both your hands behind your back. Don’t tense up on me.” She squeezed Jason’s wrist. “Don’t panic. Just relax. There’s a good boy. Who’s a good boy? Okay, now, breathe.”

Jason’s heart raced as he saw the reflection of him being cuffed. “What did I do? You have to tell me that?”

Officer Sampson snapped the cuffs shut, then began to frisk Jason. “Do you have anything on you that might stick or poke me? Do you have any weapons?”

Jason felt his throat constrict and his eyes fill with water. “No, no. I don’t have anything but my wallet. What did I do?”

Officer Sampson pulled Jason’s wallet from his back pocket, then handed it to her partner.

Corporal Hicks opened the wallet, then read his Driver’s permit. She turned to Jason. “Mr. Beverly, do you know Melissa Roberts?”

Jason’s chest heaved as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah. We dated for a while. But she’s fine. I saw her in Biology this morning. She’s fine. I dumped, um, I mean, I separated from her. But she’s fine.”

Rick glared at Jason. “Dude.” He shook his head. “Maybe, you shouldn’t say anything.”

Officer Hick’s nostrils flared. “And when was the last time you had her alone?”

Jason swallowed. “Two weeks ago, in my room. I didn’t have her alone. She chose to be with me. We-” He saw Rick shake his head.

The corporal reached into her shirt pocket. “You what? What did you do to her?”

Jason closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Oh, God!”

Corporal Hicks sneered at Jason, then lifted her card. “God had nothing to do with it, you piece of...” She sighed. “Jason Beverly, you are under arrest for 2nd-degree sexual assault. You have the privilege to remain silent unless questioned during formal interrogation. You have the privilege of a lawyer if one agrees to take your case. You are privileged to be judged by a panel of female magistrates.”

Tears began to fall from Jason’s black eye as the sound of his pounding heart drowned out the words of Corporal Hicks. He looked at his roommate. “Call my mothers. Tell them what’s happening.”

Rick turned to Corporal Hicks. “Wait. Are you charging him with rape? Jason wouldn’t touch a girl without verbal and written notarized consent.”

Jason turned his head to Officer Sampson. “Yeah, I got the consent form in my room. I can get it. We had it notarized at the voluntary copulation office.”

Corporal Hicks rolled her eyes. “Maybe so, but the victim withdrew consent this morning, and here we are. Women have a thirty-day window to withdraw consent now.”

“What!” Jason looked through the window at the women glaring at him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know the law changed.”

Corporal Hicks shrugged. “Ignorance of the law is no excuse. You Ys always try that. It’s your responsibility to keep up with our changes.”

Officer Sampson glared at Rick. “Something to keep in mind, frat boy. It’s a new day in California. So keep up or get out.”

“Like you’ll let us go,” Rick mumbled.

“What was that, boy?” Officer Sampson replied.

Rick lowered his head. “Nothing, Officer.”

Corporal Hicks slid her shades back on, then walked to Jason. “Let’s go, you barely human piece of filth. And please try to resist. I’ve been dying to fry some disgusting testicles since I lit my bastard uncle up.”

The two officers took one of Jason’s arms, then escorted him to their cruiser as a crowd of mostly female students gawked at the scene.

Jason stared back at his friend as he was shoved into the car. The look on his bruised face said what his frozen lips could not. His nightmare was only beginning.

Author Notes

This is not real. This is fiction, written specifically for horror contest. So, it is not against or for any person or gender. It is not saying or promoting anything. But, do not doubt for a minute this isn't horror for men.

Chapter 12
What we believe

By lancellot

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

David heard them before he saw them. Shouting and loud jeers of anger cut through the forest path like a cold winter breeze. Call it instinct, bravery, the voice of God, or whatever you wish, but something sent power rushing into his legs.

The running young missionary broke from the trees' shadowy embrace and into the open. His tired bare feet skid to a sudden stop just as an apple-sized rock sailed past his eyes. Like a trained marksman, his sharp eyes followed the rock’s flight to the bruised and bloodied back of a cowering black man.

In less than five seconds, David’s mind processed all he saw, heard, and felt in the scene. Over a dozen fair-skinned people were in a mob oozing with anger and naked hatred like a puss-filled infection. The emotions were so thick he could smell the rage wafting off the villagers and the fetid fear of the small, terrorized, dark man begging for his life. David caught snippets of words from the mob: evil, demon, outsider, kill, children.

David felt the heavy madness in the air like an oppressively wet towel weighing on his shoulders. Unfortunately, growing up in an orphanage, it was a feeling the young man knew all too well. Even worse, it was a scene he had witnessed too many times in his travels spreading the Word to the ignorant masses. It was always the same, whether a group of drunken men taunting a young woman alone on a dark street or a poor beggar who accidentally stumbled into a wealthy district. Yes, always the same, the strong, the rich, the majority, and the never-ending oppression of the weak, different, and few.

Before he even knew it, David covered the small man with his larger and stronger body. Yes, the rocks pelting his muscular frame hurt, but they did little damage. Thankfully, the projectiles stopped seconds after his visibly white skin encompassed the fragile victim. However, the hurled insults and hatred did not.

Stones were dangerous, but words were something he could face. So David stood with his arms outstretched and faced the angry mob. He gave a glance and reassuring smile to the small dark man trembling in his shadow, then lifted his great voice to the people. He did not know if he could reach through their anger and hatred into their hearts, but with God’s help, anything was possible.

“My good people. This sin you must not do. All men are children of the One God. Though we may appear different outside, under the skin, beneath the cloth, we are all children of the Lord. Those of us blessed with wealth must feed the poor. Those granted strength of arms must care for those afflicted with-” David’s eyes grew wide, and his words halted as air escaped his broad lungs from a hole that was not his mouth.

David’s legs failed, and his knees found the earth. He turned to see the small black man smiling as he twisted a knife in his back.

The dark man withdrew the bloody blade, then raised it over his head. “One last soul for my master.”

David closed his eyes.

He was not dead. Even before his heavy lids opened to golden candlelight, the pain in his back confirmed to David that he was still in the land of the living. He only opened his eyes when he felt the coarseness of a warm wooden spoon against his dried lips and a rich hearty scent enter his nose.

“Ah, you are finally awake.” A young woman smiled as she set the wooden spoon down. “Good. I will tell the elders.” She stood.

David reached a heavy trembling hand to the girl. “Wait. Where? What happened to the little man you were attacking?”

The woman’s smile instantly fell, and she looked away. “That, that servant of the devil escaped.” Her hands balled into fists. “We almost had him. Finally, after two seasons of his terror. Thank God we were able to catch him this time before he could do more.”

“Evil?” David whispered.

The girl turned tear-soaked, pinkish eyes to David. “Why? Why did you help him get away? The monster who killed so many, who took my little-” She turned. “The elders will decide what to do with you.” She started to leave.

“Wait.” David struggled for breath and strength. “I, I did not know.”

The girl turned on David. “If you did not know. Why did you interfere? Why give aid to a child murderer and rapist? Why?”

David felt the words hang on the tip of his frozen tongue. He wanted to look at the girl but he could not will his eyes to contact with hers. He felt a cold sweat build on his skin and turned his gaze away. In a much lower voice he mumbled, “There were so many of you, and, and he was but one. I thought you were the bad ones. He was small, different, alone and weak looking, so, I assumed-- Oh God.”

The girl’s gaze bore into David’s very soul. “We are still many, and you, you are but one. A very, very weak one. You may assume what will happen next if you wish. Perhaps this time you will be right.”

David watched the girl leave the tent. He wanted to follow, but his legs refused his commands. All he had strength enough to do was pray to the Almighty to use his superior power against those who were stronger than him.

Chapter 13
Crazy Beautiful

By lancellot

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

“Shit! I guess today is the day I die.” Jake took a deep breath, perhaps his last, then shrugged. His dark eyes alternated between the gleaming silver revolver and the wide-eyed crazed woman pointing the gun at his head.

Karen’s lips quivered, seemingly fighting back a smile, as a single tear fell from her right eye. “You’re damn right. You rushed home without thinking just like I planned. You stinking piece of trash. Men like you deserve to rot in Hell. Say your prayers, asshole.”

Jake stood as straight as he could, slowed his breathing, then finally shut his eyes.

Karen waited a few seconds. “Any last words?”

Jake slowly shook his head.

Karen grinned. “Figures, crap shouldn’t speak, just get flushed down the toilet with the rest of the filth. You don’t deserve to live around decent people. You’re... you’re just a heartless, misogynistic, privileged white man, who thinks the world is his playground, and every woman in it are his toys. You broke me, Jake. You took a vulnerable heart and smashed it like an empty beer bottle. I didn’t ask for much. I only wanted to be loved and treated like a human being. But how much abuse, Jake? How much can one person take? You knew... you knew what happened to me. You knew what I struggled to survive through.”

Hot, salty tears ran freely down Karen’s face, and her trigger finger twitched. “I would have... I would have loved you forever, given you everything... everything I had. All I needed was a little time, understanding, and simple love, Jake. Just love, time, and understanding. But no! You couldn’t give me that. You just...just wanted a hole you could fill. That’s all I was to you. That’s all men like you ever want. You’re just like him... just like my bastard uncle.” Karen’s thumb pulled the gun’s hammer back. “I really hope you don't die with one shot, Jake. I hope you suffer. I hope...”

Jake opened his eyes. “I hope you shut the hell up! Jesus, will you just kill me already. Here let me help." Jake leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the muzzle. “There, please free me from my misery.” He closed his eyes again.

Karen’s entire body shook, and her face turned bright red. “Misery. What does trash like you know about misery?”

Jake opened his eyes and stood up straight. “I know because I have a crazy ex-girlfriend who didn’t give a damn about me when we were together but won’t stop stalking me now that we’re apart. You're a broken doll, a raving lunatic, an open wound festering in the sun, a freaking psychopath who only cares about her feelings, her past, her never-ending trauma, her needs, her....”

“Stop!” Karen’s arms trembled, and her gun wavered. “I am not crazy!” she yelled.

Jake raised both his hands, then looked around his trashed apartment. “No? Then I guess a mini tornado broke in and destroyed my place. And maybe I’m having a nightmare, and there isn’t a thirty-year-old elementary school teacher I broke up with after dating for only two months, pointing a gun at my head with a grin on her face.” Jake glared at Karen. “Nope. You’re right; nothing crazy about that.”

Tears streamed from Karen’s red eyes. Long clear threads of mucus dripped from her flared nostrils pooling over her cracked lips, then finally hanging from her quivering chin. Karen wiped at her face, smearing more fluids across her skin than she removed. “I... I loved you.”

“Love?” Jake sighed. “Woman, you don’t even know me.”

Karen’s arm retracted, with the gun now pointed at Jake’s chest. “I do... I do.”

“Really?” Jake softened his voice, then stepped closer to Karen. “What’s my middle name?”

Karen blinked. “It’s... it’s... I... I forget.”

Jake nodded and moved closer. “When is my birthday?”

Karen’s eyes moved wildly from left to right as she bit into her lower lip. “Jan...  No! June 12th...”

Jake shook his head. “It’s in November.”

Karen swallowed. “You don’t know my...”

“April 2nd, 1992. You were born just after midnight. You said you just missed being born a fool by two minutes. You always thanked your mom for holding on those extra seconds. Your favorite food is anything free. You’re allergic to pears and think the dairy industry made up peanut allergies to get the heat off of them.” Jake stepped within a foot of Karen.

Karen gazed into Jake’s deep dark eyes. “How did you... how did you know?”

Jake slowly reached up and gently put one hand on the gun while staring into Karen’s eyes. “Because I cared. I listened when I held you on that sofa; you cut up. I paid attention to you talk until three in the morning on that phone you smashed.” Jake eased the gun from Karen’s hands. “And I listened when we lay in my bed, completely naked, not touching, as you cried telling the story of what your terrible uncle and cousin did to you. A story you told me five different times in two weeks, each time we tried to do more than kiss.”

“I... I only wanted you to understand.” Karen sobbed as she laid her head on Jake’s chest. “I wanted someone to love me, flaws and all.”

“I know what you wanted.” Jake flipped the safety on the gun, then slid it into his pocket. He took a deep breath and savored the fragrant scent of Karen's hair as he stroked her head. “It’s okay. We all want things. And I’m sure you’ll find that perfect love when you get out of prison. Maybe on the inside too.”

Karen immediately pulled back and stared at Jake’s face.

Jake was pleased with that, as she never saw his fist connect with the side of her head, sending her to the floor in a beautiful heap of human flesh. Jake knelt beside the unconscious psychopath and shook his head. He slowly pulled out his cell phone, then dialed the police. He then glanced at the clock and thanked his lucky star for the hidden cameras. He knew from an unfortunate incident in college that police, and most of society really, rarely believed men over women.

As Jake waited for the cops, he stared at the snoring woman. Jake sighed. “All that ass. It’s a shame it’s attached to such a crazy bitch. You broke my heart, Karen. Well, maybe not my heart, but you broke my flat screen.” Jake looked around. “Jesus, you broke a lot of shit. This online dating isn't working out like I planned."

Chapter 14
Howl

By lancellot

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

"Blood isn't sweet like syrup, though it's somewhat sticky. It's quite bitter, and I would if I could drain and cook prey before consuming them. But, naturally, I don't think about doing that or much of anything when the beast is upon me. I can't say I remember that much. I get random images in my dreams, mostly screams, running, begging, a hot sourness in my mouth, and howling. Always the howling. What do you think, Doc? Am I crazy?"

Dr. Howard stops his pen and looks at the young man he has known for three weeks. "Well, Thomas, first, I never use the term… crazy." The doctor raises his hand. "And before you ask. No. I never believed in fairies, Lycans, vampires, or other supernatural beings. That was always my little brother's hobby." He sets down his pen, interlaces his fingers, then tilts his balding head slightly to the side. "Thomas, I'll be frank with you. I've seen this condition before. Usually, following a traumatic animal attack, survivors, mostly men, feel emasculated. It's not their fault. Society has built into men the idea that we are the dominant species on the planet. Western culture constantly reinforces the notion that men are at the top of the food chain." He grins. "The patriarchy. That's a fancy word my little girl learned at college. She always loved learning new words."

Thomas pulls himself up on the sofa. He glances at the darkened sky through the window before focusing on Dr. Howard. "Doctor, it's getting…."

Dr. Howard's hand rises again, and he shakes his head. "Now, I know you may not want to hear this, Thomas. It is not easy for young men to…."

Thomas shudders as loud barking from multiple dogs suddenly fills the room.

Dr. Howard sighs, stands, then rushes to his open office window. He quickly shuts it, then returns to his chair while shaking his head. "Sorry about that. It's my damn neighbors. I swear, I think they collect every stray dog in the city. Every other night, it's the same thing. Barking, barking, barking, that's one reason I seldom hold sessions at night."

Thomas nods and looks over his shoulder through the window. Beads of sweat begin to pepper his forehead. His breathing rate increases, and he turns back to his psychiatrist. "Yeah, it is late. Maybe, I should go. Yeah, I think it's best if…."

"No! No, Thomas. I know you want to run, but you can never run away from yourself. The problem is within you, Thomas. And until you face it, it will keep gnawing and eating away at you until you can no longer tell fact from fiction." Dr. Howard's brows contract as he notices Thomas' strained face. "Ah, I see you're feeling stressed. That's normal." He stands and walks to the thermostat of the wall. "Here, let me turn on the air."

Thomas shifts around on the sofa and opens the top buttons of his shirt. He slides towards the exit, then pulls back as the barking gets louder and louder, seemingly coming from right outside. "What… what day is it? God, I don't… I didn't keep track of…." He looks down at his hands and gasps as thick hair begins to grow on his hand and his fingernails darken. "No, no, no, not again," he whimpers in a deepening bass. "I have to go."

"Not at all. You're just hyperventilating because we're close to a breakthrough." Dr. Howard walks to a side door with his back still turned to Thomas. "Stay right there. I'll get you a cup of tea from the kitchen. It'll help calm your nerves." He exits and closes the door.

Thomas falls to the floor. Behind him, the full moon shines through the window and illuminates the room. The barking dogs suddenly stop.

The transformation isn't instant and far from painless. Thomas screams in agony as bones seem to break and reform, skin rips, thickens, and stretches as muscles no man should have burst through shredded clothing. The face of the young man is barely recognizable as the beast emerges with fangs of yellow and teeth the size of small knives. Last to change are the eyes. The soft baby blues that once captured the heart of his former flame issue a final tear of sorrow before turning black, devoid of reason, intellect, and humanity.

The creature is well over seven feet, with a beastly girth no man would dare measure. Its dark, coarse snout sniffs the air, then the floor where Dr. Howard once stood. Predator eyes zero in on the door separating man and… something. A distance that took a man six steps to cross is covered in a single bound. The door is closed, and there is no lock. The knob is ignored, even if recognized, though that is doubtful.

The creature rears back on unnaturally powerful hind legs, then springs forward, crashing through the thick oak door like tissue paper. The creature knows no fear, no hate, and its only desire is to feed.

Splinters fly through the air as the beast comes face to face with its prey.

"For my Jessica." The three words are but a whisper as an explosion echoes through the home.

A second and a third boom quickly follows as the Lycan howls in pain, shock, and perhaps something else. Then, finally, its heavy body staggers backward as the shotgun pumps and fires a fourth and fifth time.

Blood and entrails saturate the floor and furniture as the wolf collapses into a pool of dark fluids. Yet, remarkably, it hangs to life and even turns its semi-disfigured head to lick its blood from the floor as if not understanding it belongs to him or that there's a silver-stained basketball size hole where its stomach used to be.

Dr. Howard pumps his gauge a sixth time and stands over his fallen prey. His finger twitches on the trigger as tears fall from his brown eyes. He pauses, then removes his finger as the dying creature looks at him with large tear-filled baby blues.

The creature's lips struggle to form words that seem nearly incomprehensible.

Dr. Howard nods. "I know. So am I." He points the barrel at the slowly changing creature's head and fires.

***

The office door opens, and three armed men in long black coats enter the room. Two throw a plastic tarp over Thomas' shredded corpse.

The third man slowly approaches Dr. Howard. He gently takes the gun from the doctor's hand. "You know, big bro, you didn't have to do it yourself. Hunting is not your gig, even if…." He shakes his head. "What I mean is, you could've let me handle it. She would've understood."

Dr. Howard stares at the bloody floor. "Yeah, but that wouldn't have been... therapeutic."

Chapter 15
Uno

By lancellot

“Strip!”

Amy’s mouth hung open as she stared at Davie. “What?”

The younger teen raised an eyebrow while he shuffled the cards, and struggled to contain the raging butterflies in his stomach. Will she walk away, curse, or slap me? Davie forced a smile. “We’re playing Strip Uno, my lady.”

Davie picked up his coke bottle and casually slipped the straw into his mouth. He was sure to keep his gaze focused on Amy’s sparkling green eyes and impassive face as he slid the straw back and forth between his lips, trying his best to give the much older teen a subliminal message.

Amy stared at the boy she had babysat since he was eight. Is he serious? Does he think he's a man just because he grew two whiskers on his chin? I bet he’ll run screaming at the sight of my bra strap.

A cruel smirk grew on the cheerleader as she glared across the small kitchen table. “Okay, Davie....”

“David. You may call me David from now on, my lady.” He folded the cards. “Davie is a child’s name, and we aren’t kids. Are we, Amelia?”

“How do you...?” Amy, aka Amelia Grant took a deep breath as heat flared within her chest. Then, she noticed Davie... or David wasn’t wearing his normal T-shirt and jeans. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly scanned his tall, lanky frame. Today he wore a button-down long-sleeved shirt, and his normal faded jeans had been replaced with tan Docker’s slacks, perfectly ironed and creased. Still looking through the clear glass table, Amy gasped at David’s highly polished Sunday shoes. “Why are you...” Amy’s pert nose twitched, then she instinctively turned around and began looking for David senior, but the boy’s father was out for the evening. She inhaled again, then refocused on Davie. He’s wearing his dad’s cologne. I don’t believe it.

David set the cards on the table, then innocently spread his tender open hands. “How, why, what do these trivial things matter, Amelia? Is it not enough that you and I are here on this beautiful pre-Valentine’s night... alone? Is it not… fate?”

“Pre...” It took Amy a second to remember Valentine’s Day was Sunday, and here she was on a Friday night babysitting...or new teen sitting instead of... Thoughts of her recent breakup with Rick flooded her mind, and her stomach clenched as rage inducing images of Rick kissing that bitch, Sharon, replayed before her eyes.

Amy’s gaze turned back to Davie. Fine, he wants to play grown-up. Let’s play. She lowered her hands to the table. “Okay, what are the rules... David?” She smiled at the freckled-faced redhead, half expecting him to break out in a cold sweat.

But David was cool. Instead, he nodded, picked up the Uno cards, and began dealing. He kept his eyes glued to hers, and hoped she wouldn’t look down at his trembling knees. Steady now, Davie. Steady. Don’t freak out. You’ve got this. You just have to get her top off. That’ll... that’ll be more than enough. “It’s simple. We play by fives. Loser sheds one item of clothing for every five points they're down. If you lose by four, you take off nothing. If I win by seventeen, you remove three items. Understand?”

Amy crossed her arms over her small bosom. “Oh, I understand, but I have one important question.”

Davie paused. “Huh?”

Amy grinned and leaned forward. “What’s in it for me?”

Davie froze as his mind went blank. He felt blood race to his face as his ears began to burn. It didn’t take more than a half-second for his mind to register the meaning of Amy’s words and the look on her face. While he wanted desperately to see, if not touch, the object or objects of his years-long desire, he had never thought much about what his too-thin body looked like to a woman of Amy’s age and obvious experience.

Davie’s eyes fell as he imagined the threads of his master plan unravel like a cheap ball of yarn. Memories of Amy's quarterback boyfriend with his shirt off burned the back of his throat. Then, he looked up at Amy. “Well...I... I suppose... you’ll get to, I mean if you want to, you'll see...”

“Fine!” Amy leaned back in her chair. She turned her gaze to the ceiling to prevent the laughter bubbling inside from bursting through her lips. “I guess your nude body will almost be enough,”

Davie felt a ray of hope shine upon him. “Almost? What else do you...?”

Amy’s hands slammed onto the table. “I want it all.”

Davie jumped in his chair as he beheld Amy’s fierce cat-like eyes. “But, but, I never did that be...."

“Not that.” Amy waved one hand as if dismissing such a silly notion. “I want all the money you’ve been saving in that fat piggy bank you hide under your bed.”

Davie’s body shivered. “Not Pretty Piggie.”

“Yes! Tonight, Pretty Piggie goes to Hog Heaven, and I walk out with the bonus I so richly deserve.” Amy felt like a real Disney villainess as she looked upon Davie’s ashen face. Not such a man now, are you? “Well? Come on, David. You didn’t expect to get a woman to strip for free, did you?”

That’s exactly what Davie thought, or that and his dad’s Old Spice. But the idea of Amy smashing Pretty Piggie had started a different type of fire within him. His lips trembled with untapped rage. Grandma Rose, the most wonderful woman the world had ever produced, bought him that bank for his sixth birthday, and each year, she gave him a hundred dollars in quarters for it. He stared at Amy and realized high school cheerleaders were nothing compared to his nana. “You’re not a woman.”

Amy shrugged. “I’m more woman than you are a man... Davie.”

Davie’s nostril flared, and his heart pounded in his narrow chest. “If that’s the case, why don’t we up the stakes? If I have to lose two thousand bucks.” Davie didn’t have nearly that much. “Then, you’ll have to give up more than a glance at those tiny titties.”

Amy caught herself before reaching across the table to strangle Davie. “Deal.” She leaned forward and grabbed her cards. “I hope you’re man enough for more, Davie?”

“I am.” Davie picked up his cards. “And, it’s David. David Howard the second.” He gave Amy a slight nod. “Ladies first, and I use the term loosely.”

***

Four hours later, Mister and Missus Howard entered a darkened house.

Mrs. Howard stopped just inside the door. “Do you hear music?”

Mr. Howard flipped on the living room lights. “Hello. Amy, Davie, we’re home,” he called out.

Suddenly the house went quiet. Seconds later, the hurried sound of steps on the stairs caused the Howards to look up.

A barefooted Amy rushed down the stairs with wet hair and clothes clinging to her athletic body. She quickly raised one hand, attempting to block her reddened face as she slipped past the confused parents.

“Good night,” she yelled, streaking through the open door, then disappearing into the night.

Husband and wife stared at each other in silence for a few seconds until the softer sound of slippers descending the stairs caught their attention.

David, wearing a bathrobe and a smile, walked down the stairs and greeted his parents, “Mother, Father, welcome home. I trust your evening was pleasant?”

Mrs. Howard gazed up at her son. “Davie? Why are you wearing a bathrobe, and why is your hair wet?”

Mr. Howard stared at his somehow older-looking son. Then, a prideful smile slowly grew on his face. “That’s my boy!”

Author Notes

For the record. No one has sex in this story. If it wasn't clear, Davie did win, but only got his hair washed in the shower. That's all. That's why there is no sex warning.

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