LADIES OF WELLBORN -Short Fiction

  LADIES OF WELLBORN

“Listen, ladies, we can’t permit someone like Janice to move on our private street. She is trash. That is apparent. What? She thinks that she can gold-dig her way into society. I mean, seriously. She is what, in her early twenties, and her husband is in his sixties? She didn’t marry him for love. She married him for his money. I wouldn’t be surprised if she kills vulnerable Henry within the year.” I wipe my brow with my embroidered handkerchief and study the faces of my ladies’ group. We don’t have a title, but we should establish one. The heat in the parlor roasts us as if we had met in my sauna.

“I think Peggy is right. We should-”

“Margo,” I call over Mildred in my no-nonsense voice. Mildred stops talking and glares at me. She should understand this is my house and meeting, and I have more urgent business than her comment. I wipe my neck and start counting in my head. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Margo arrives before I reach ten.

“Mam,” Margo says, with her hands interlocked in front of her.

“Margo, it is way too stifling in here. Please turn the AC up by five degrees.”

“Yes, Mam.” Margo steps to the hall behind me and raises the air conditioning. “Anything more I can do for you, Mam?”

I must give her something so my ladies’ group can see my control. “When you have finished your to-do list, please polish the Lenox collection.”

“If you prefer me to do it ahead of schedule, I will, Mam.”

“Indeed, I do. That will be enough. Leave.”

The combined smell of high-end perfumes creates a toxic layer of pollution above our heads. In courtesy, the ladies should have gone sparingly on their fragrance. Margo will have to fumigate the parlor when they leave. Add that to your to-do list.

I turn to Mildred and fold my arms. She looks at me and shrugs. “Continue,” I say as if she were my servant.

“Um, I forgot.”

“You were going to comment on Janice.”

Mildred rubs her hands down her blouse to straighten the wrinkles out. Seriously, she should talk to her maid. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing such an Ill-prepared blouse. “I seem to have forgotten.”

“Nonetheless, we must do all our power to chase Janice away. She is new money, if that, and she doesn’t belong with us Wellborns.”

No one responds.

“Do you ladies concur?”

Everyone mumbles a weak agreement. Do they not feel like I do? How can they not desire to protect our street from rift raft like Janice?

***

I look at the rust on my lettuce and remind myself to talk to the cook. How long has she been in my service?

“Did you see that someone bought the Winchester’s home?” Craig pulls me out of my head.

Pots bang in the kitchen, and I almost tell the staff to quiet. They should know better than make a racket during our mealtime.

“Indeed, I have, and they do not belong here. Can you believe they pulled up in a U-Haul and unloaded their furnishings themselves? And their help. Ragged lower-class slobs, dragging their second-rate furniture in. If they can’t afford movers, then they shouldn’t have bought such a lavish house.”

Craig puts his fork down and gives me that look where he wishes to assert his moral stance upon me. “A bit harsh?”

I shoot out of my chair. “Seriously! You are not concerned about them dragging our property value down?”

Craig’s shoulders relax. “I didn’t think about it like that. I guess that could be a concern.”

“Indeed, it is a concern.” Craig unfolds his napkin. “Marcus went to the city council meeting last night. He has some highly concerning news.”

“I believe you are trying to change the conversation.”

“No. I am deeply troubled. They have proposed that the new toll road runs through our community,”

“Never will happen.” I shift my weight in my seat. It is time to reupholster our chairs. The retro print needs to be updated.

“This is serious. They could steamroller all our homes.”

“Never will happen. There is too much money here.”

“Hmph,” Craig mumbles. He wants to refocus my energy on something other than the new neighbors. He’ll have to try harder than that.

The smell of prime rib wafts into the dining room, and I smile as I sip crisp, filtered water. Craig takes a bite of his Waldorf Salad, dressing dripping from his mouth and onto his shirt.

“Seriously, Craig? Must you eat like a servant?”

I nibble my salad with class as a tutorial for my inept husband, then gently set the Christofle Paris salad fork on the table.

“Dang.” He rubs the Ruvanti napkin over the dressing splotch on his shirt.

“Stop.” I sound like a barking seal. “You are going to set the oil in your shirt and napkin. After dinner, we will have both items immediately sent to dry cleaning. Seriously, Craig. You act as if you were a child.”

Craig drops the napkin on the table, his eyes narrowing at me. “I am finished. You can find me in the office.” He scoots away from the table.

“You have just started the first course. Don’t be ridiculous. Finish eating.”

“Margo,” I call out. One, two, three, four.

“Mam.”

“Remind your staff that mealtime is quiet hour.”

“Mam.”

Craig cradles his chin at the tips of his fingers. “You made me lose my appetite. Have the kitchen staff prepare a cheesecake, and we will take it to welcome the new neighbors tonight.”

“I refuse to construct a welcome party for that family.”

“You are something.” Craig bumps into my chair, clearly deliberate, and stomps out of the room like a furious CEO.

“Who needs you,” I say, spit spraying across my salad. I dab my napkin at my lower lip, “Well, that was unladylike.” To back it up, I let out a giggle-snort. “Oh, my.”

****

“Congratulations, Ladies of Wellborn.” I use our new title. “Six months have passed since Janice moved in, and your reports for ostracizing her meet my approval.”

I look across my front yard at the elaborate high tea, deliberately scheduling it when Janice will go by on her afternoon run. “I am proud that none of you have caved into a friendship with that imposter.”

The ladies sound like a flock of seagulls, spreading gossip and sipping tea. I look at my watch, already bored of the party. In two minutes, Janice should be running by. I bite into the lime tart, and my lips scrunch together. It could use more sugar. Embarrassed, I look around to see if anyone has the same reaction.

“Oh, hi,” I hear Janice as she runs into the yard.

The nerve! I did not send her an invite.

“This looks like a lovely party.”

“It’s high tea for the Ladies of Wellborn.”

She scratches her sticky armpit. Disgusting. No class. “What does that mean?” Listen to her fish for an invite.

“It is a society of ladies born into money.”

Janice shields her hand above her eyes. “Oh, well, it looks lovely. You have such nice linen setup and fancy China. It looks fun.”

“I wouldn’t term it fun. It is a delightful afternoon of like-minded ladies commencing together.”

Janice steps towards the tables.

“Please, don’t let me get in the way of your run.” I turn my back to her, and my triumph bubbles over like a freshly uncorked bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

***

“Ladies, must I say, another successful Fall Soup and Meet.” I stand at the head of my social room. Everyone looks like fat porkers, as we ate way more than our diets allotted. “Let us wander into the parlor where I will announce the winner of the Soup Contest.” It is a trifle contest, considering our chefs crafted the soups, but the ladies look forward to the good-hearted competition, something personally I could do without.

We leave the aromatic social room and mingle in the parlor.

“This year's winner, of the Ladies of Wellborn Soup Contest is-“

The sounds of chimes interrupt my announcement. -probably an Amazon package at the door.

“Ah, the bells are just building our suspense,” Helen says, and the others laugh. I don’t join the silly chirping.

“Anyways, before I was rudely interrupted, the winner of the Ladies of Wellborn Soup Contest is-“

“Mam, I announce Janice Price,” Margo says at the parlor's entrance.”

“Margo, what have you done?” I whip my body to face Margo as the blood coagulates in my veins. “Mrs. Price does not have an invite to my fall party.”

The other ladies gasp at my boldness. No, not my boldness. They indeed are gasping at Janice’s crashing our party. Red splotches break out on my hands. The ladies will think that Margo lacks discipline for inviting Janice in.

Janice says, “I won’t pretend that I haven’t noticed that I am the only one in the neighborhood not invited to your silly party or the many you have had since I moved in.”

“Mrs. Price!”

“But that is not why I am here. I do not need your silly parties to validate my life.”

I had no idea Janice had such a sharp tongue. She had always seemed timid. She walks deeper into the parlor without my invitation. She swings her hips as if she is someone, then places her hands on her side, which remarkably looks like she might be wearing something from the Sonia Rykiel collection.

“Ah, it looks like someone is playing dress-up.”

I have only seen Janice in T-shirt and jeans or shorts. Even her hair is straightened, almost looking professionally styled.

“Wow, Peggy Kennedy, you are something else.”

I stumble back for theatrics as I gasp. “You crash my party uninvited. Then you insult me. And you wonder why I have never invited you to my functions. Listen, just because you married money, does not make you money. You are low life, and I will always, no we will always see you as such.”

All the Wellborn Ladies wrap their arms around their chests. They should be standing behind me, holding me up, not cowering behind my words.

“For your information, Peggy Kennedy. I am not married, nor ever plan to be.”

I choke on my spit and struggle not to cough out loud. I put my hand to my face until I work through my difficulty. “You are even worse than I thought, shacked up with Henry. Mrs. Price or I mean, Ms. Price, it is time for you to leave.”

“I will, but I first have an announcement to make.”

“Then make it quick.”

A cold hand wraps around my arm, and I jump. “Peggy, please be kind.” I throw Margert’s hand off my arm.

“She does not belong here.”

Margert makes a substantial social faux pas and goes to Peggy’s side. “Go ahead and make your announcement.”

“Margaret!”

“For your information, my name is Janice Vanderbilt and not Peggy Price. Henry Price is my great-uncle, and I took him into my home after his wife died. And no, he is not money. I am money, or that antiquated British term you cling to for your identity, Wellborn. For your information, I am higher Wellborn than all of you combined.”

“That is enough. There is the door,” I say, but utter shock makes me curious for more.

“I am in charge of the Vanderbilt Toll road that will be going through your neighborhood. I had the decision between Pious Estates or the open field on Hwy 12. I moved here to ascertain if your neighborhood was worth saving. I have never been around a more self-centered, unkind group of people before. The decision is easy for me. I will hold onto the field for real estate, and in the spring,” she smiles, then her words come out slow and deliberate, “I will bulldoze every one of your houses.”

The sound in the room rumbles like a subway passing through.

“You have no right to do that,” Margaret roared.

“There is no way the city council will approve that.”

“I own everyone on the city council.”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh, I do. Every single person.”

The subway of chatter halted. Not a sound.

“That’s right, you Wellborn Ladies. If you had been kind, you wouldn’t lose your homes.”

And with that, Janice left us to marinate in our Wellborn nothingness.

______________________________________________________

Ladies of Wellborn

by Stephanie Daich

 

 

I AM THE OLD MAN IN THE SEA -Fiction

 I AM THE OLD MAN IN THE SEA

My paddle slices through the frigid water, sending icy spray into my face. It doesn’t matter that it is 5 degrees Fahrenheit outside or that half of Washington County is looking for me. This is where I belong.

“Dad, we can’t let you go out on Grand Manan Channel,” My controlling daughter Barbra had told me the last time we were together. I regret raising a daughter like her. Joanne and I thought we were clever as we gave our oldest daughter, Barbra, authority in our home, helping us raise our other eight kids. I appreciated having Barbra take over the care of Joanne during the last three years of my lovely wife’s life. But now, Barbra thinks she can bully me and tell me what to do.

I hated how she had peered down her wirerimmed glasses at me, looking and sounding like a rooster, as her hands flayed across her hips. Perhaps she will start pecking at me. At least, that’s what she mentally does.

“I will continue to do what I please.” I tried to stand as my back tightened, sending an electric bolt of pain into all my muscles. I had to hide the grimace, or Barbra would pounce on it. I tried to straighten, but things didn’t work right in my back. An excellent visit to the chiropractor would fix it. I put the weight on my right side and hobbled toward the door.

“Dad, stop! You are Ninety-two. You aren’t twenty-two. Stop acting like it. Look, you can’t even walk, yet you want us to let you kayak in the ocean every day. No way! Not happening!” Her words wrapped around my legs, heart, body, and soul like the chains of Jacob Marley, the ghost who tried to enchain Ebenezer Scrooge. Barbara sucked the living out of my life.

As Barbara lectured me, my eyes wandered to the untouched mystery goop and soggy Brussels sprouts on the plastic tray. The aid had left the ‘food’ in my tiny room, and I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. That crap smelt a lot like dirty underwear. That old gal Mable, two apartments down, had told me I could order food from my phone, and people would deliver it to me. I would have to start doing that. Again, I looked at the institutional garbage food and was tempted to grab a handful and smear it into Barbra’s overly-processed hair. Instead, I yanked my hearing aid out, chucked it at Barbra, and awkwardly dragged myself toward the door. The rough material of my corduroy pants rubbed against my chunky thighs, which had thickened over the last few years as I walked less and less.

Barbra’s shrill, birdlike voice played in my head. “You want us to let you kayak.”

-Let you kayak.

-Let you kayak!

The nerve!

It wasn’t her choice. I didn’t live with Barbra. She didn’t have power of attorney over me. She couldn’t order me around like she did her husband. Pour soul had no idea what he was getting into when he asked her to marry him 48 years ago. Or was it 49 years?

Nonetheless, it probably felt like a hundred years to him, being told about every move he could or couldn’t make. I think I was good to Joanne. I gave her freedom. I missed her as I wobbled into my room and slammed the door.

I looked at the small room, hating everything about it. Joanne and I had a lovely home in Cutler, Maine, but I sold it to afford the assisted living I had to move her into.

“Just move in with Mom. She cries every night without you.” Barbra carefully laid the trap, and I hadn’t seen it.

“I will die if I live in a nursing home.”

Barbara did her Hillary Clinton laugh. Honestly, if I hadn’t attended Barbara’s birth, I would have thought she was Hillary’s long-lost twin. “It’s an assisted living facility, not a nursing home. -So different. And you don’t need to live here. You are doing it for Mom. Only while she needs you.” Which was Barbra’s code for saying, we will sell everything you have, and after mom dies, you will have nowhere to move and will be a permanent prisoner of the nursing home, AKA assisted living.

The time I spent in assisted living with Joanne almost tore me apart, losing my self and identity like that, but I stayed busy with her care. I took her to all the mind-numbing activities to bring a little sparkle into her dying eyes. But I refused to go to any of that with her gone. Those little babies that ran the place talked to us like we were imbeciles, mere embryos still in the womb. Besides, the activities were crammed with fossils. I might be ninety-two, but I am not dead yet.

Two months after Joanne died, I had to make a break, even if was for only a few hours. I stood at the curb when the shiny black car pulled up. It looked like the one in the app.

“I don’t know how these things work,” I told the baby boy driving the car. He jumped out and opened the door for me.

“You don’t know how what works?”

“How Uber works.”

“You obviously do, because you got me here, didn’t you?” The toddler laughed as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Mable set it up for me. I think she’s hot for me,” I winked at the boy. “By the way, do you even have your learner’s permit? Do they let babies drive today? Back in my day, I got my driver’s license at fourteen. I lived on a farm. But what are you, twelve?”

“You are funny,” he said. “I am twenty-two.” I cringed, wiping the drool from my chin before the driver saw it. Why does this drool thing seem to be happening more?

“You guys just get younger and younger looking every day.” I shifted as the pleather seats crinkled under me. The seats were cold, like sitting on a block of frozen salmon straight from the freezer, the cold moving into my bones.

“Or you get older and older every day.”

“Wow, you have sass. I like it,” I said. “What is your name?”

“Briant.”

The smell of cheap air freshener whacked me on the side of the head. I closed my eyes, and the smell made me feel like I was in a casino in Bangor.

My body shook, and I opened my eyes. “Briant, you do Uber to make money, but you kind of work for yourself. Am I correct in my observation?”

“Sure. Where do you want to go, bruh?”

Oh yeah, I guess he wants to get moving so he can pick up another customer soon. He would be in a hurry, but I wasn’t. I wanted to prolong every minute away from my prison. “How many people are dying for an Uber around here?” I asked.

“Not many. I am studying at an online University. Whenever I get a job, I can drop what I am doing to make a buck. If I depended on this for my living, I am in the wrong town.”

Briant rubbed his hands together. I hoped he’d turn the heater up. Was he really twenty-two? He looked preadolescent. “Where am I taking you?”

“Well, I want to go kayak the Grand Manan Channel.”

“Bruh, that’s intense.” He stared at me through the rearview mirror.

“How so?”

“A man of your age.”

“I don’t get the big deal. Listen, I could rot in a nursing home or die in the ocean. I pick ocean.”

“Right on. I love it. I know a good spot for you, but where is your kayak?”

I looked down at my lap. I had been self-sufficient my whole life. I wasn’t used to this lack of control. “I guess I need to rent one. Would you mind running me to a rental shop, then to the channel, then when I am done,” I swallowed. “Back to my prison.”

Briant pointed to the assisted living center. “Your prison?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm. I can do you one better than that. I have kayaking equipment. I will rent it to you, say, $5 sound fair?”

“More than fair, young man.”

He rubbed his chin, pulled into traffic, and said, “Do you mind if I join you? I could use a break.”

My back ached as the alarms in my brain chimed and banged. “Did Barbra set you up to come babysit me?” I snapped.

“Come again?”

Mable had put the app on my phone. Barbara didn’t even know about this, did she? We sat at the light, and I couldn’t believe it. Barbara made a left turn through the intersection and then turned into my purgatory. Like a stupid kid sneaking out of the house, I ducked in the backseat as my heart raced. I am not going to die in the ocean. I am going to die by Barbra’s suffocating grip.

Barbra must have spotted me because she did a wild turn in the driveway of the institution and then squealed after us. She cruised through the red light, not watching for traffic, when a giant semi-truck slammed into the side of Barbara and then--

“Where ya from before you went to jail?” Briant pulled me out of my fantasy with a chuckle that reminded me of my ole’ rugby mates. I looked back at the intersection to see no demolished vehicles. I could see Barbra’s car parked at the assisted living. I must have imagined her chasing us.

“Did you hear the joke about the frog and the dog?” Briant asked.

I had a fabulous conversation with Briant and nearly forgot he was old enough to be my great-great-great grandson. I hate being old! It turned out, he lived on the beach like Joanne, and I had. Even though he had access to the water whenever he wanted, I smoked him on the kayak. I wished Barbra could see how fabulous I was. Then maybe she would stop nagging like she was my wife. Actually, Joanne never carried on like that. If Barbra had seen me out on the ocean, she would have sent the helicopter police to yank me out of the water.

I ended up telling Briant about my life, my ambitions, and my hell. -the reader’s digest version. I had mixed emotions as he drove me home. That time on the water had been the best time I had in five years. Briant made me feel young again, especially when I out-rowed him. A mile away from my prison, he pulled over. He just sat staring at his steering wheel as the cars sped too close to us. At least if they creamed into us, I wouldn’t have to return to the old folk’s home.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

He rubbed his hands through his brown hair, flipping it around, then turned to me. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but I have a proposition.”

“Okay.” My skin prickled. I hope he doesn’t have a gun. He could have left me in the channel if he wanted to rob me.

“I have a mother-in-law apartment I fixed up and tried to turn into an Airbnb. I hardly get any bookings. It sounds like you hate your life at the assistant living. I need a little extra cash, and you need a place to live. What do you think about-“

“Yes! I will take it!” I hadn’t even given him a chance to finish speaking. If Briant’s car had been a convertible, I would have jumped high enough to touch the clouds. I felt like the doctors had hooked me up to an alcohol IV, pumping pure alcohol into my veins.

I decided not to tell Barbara, the other kids, or the center about my move. On Sunday, the following weekend, when most of the staff was gone, Briant came through the side doors and moved me out. Not one person saw!

I couldn’t believe how fabulous the apartment was- three times the size of my tiny space at the assisted living. He gave me full access to his kayak. The only thing that made Heaven slightly sweeter than Briant’s place was Joanne was there.

My legs might betray me on land, but my arms are as solid as the Rocky Mountains.

My attention returns to the kayak with the cold wind penetrating my jacket, yet I don’t care. I shout out loud, “Woot!”

It’s been a week since I found freedom and came alive again! I see my image on the news every night. I was smart enough to withdraw my entire savings the Friday before I left so they could not trace me or put a hold on my finances. I had earned every penny, and no one had rights to it but me.

Screw leaving money for the kid’s inheritance. After the assisted living trick, they don’t deserve a penny. Every night, I use their inheritance to order fine food for Briant and me.

Last night, Briant asked, “Bruh, am I going to get arrested for hiding you here?” Briant raised his eyebrow as we watched my image flash across the news. “Randall Craig is still missing. His family is worried sick. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact-“

“I have done nothing wrong. No one has power of attorney over me but me. I have every right to life, liberty, and happiness as you do.”

“Good enough for me.” I had stretched out in Briant’s warm house, knowing the channel waited for me in the morning.

So, as my fingers turn blue to the cold, I row my paddle in the water, thankful to feel, thankful to breathe, thankful to live!

_______________________________________________________________

I am the Old Man in the Sea

by Stephanie Daich

THE BODY Speculative Fiction

 

I could have just left him there. After all, it was a dead body, and I had my kiddos to think about. I had seen dead bodies before at parties where Lady Caine made her appearance. But I abandoned that life to embrace my role as a mother, a nurturer to the spirit of little people.

Freedom, my six-old daughter spooned into the dead body. "He just needs a hug. He's sad, Lila." My kids addressed me by my given name. I wouldn't force the conscript of Mom on them. She kissed his neck where blood had dried from a torn patch of skin. I hoped he didn't have a blood disease. Maybe that is how he died.

I cringed, trying to keep things low-key. "Freedom, however so kind of you." I pulled her off the corpse, its skin turning leathery. Creepy invisible bugs danced across me. "How about you rub your hands in the dirt? You don't want to carry his essence on you." My antaratma hummed.

Freedom looked at me with her maple syrup brown eyes. "But I love him, Lila."

I took Freedom's tiny hands in mine and rubbed them through the dirt. Other moms drenched their offspring in sanitizer any chance they could, destroying life-saving bacteria. No, I wouldn't subject my kids to that. We cleansed impurities with Mother Nature. I picked a brilliant dandelion and rubbed it on the lips that had smacked the corpse. "Let's give you yellow lipstick."

Freedom hit my hand away, and the dandelion fell to the grass. "No. I want red lips."

In an airy tone, I said, "There are some tulips over there. Why don't you go rub five petals on your lips." Maybe that would neutralize any contaminants she had picked up.

"Yay!" Freedom let go of my hand and ran to the flowers.

Billowy clouds cast a shadow over the body. I peered up and became lost in the shapes and how they formed perfect figures of a flying pig and a boat. I smelled ozone and wondered if it might rain soon-poor dead man might get soggy.

Revelation, my seven-year-old son, wrapped his arm around my leg as I watched Freedom pick tulips.

"Is he dead or sleeping?" Revelation asked in a feeble voice.

"Death. Death. What is death? His spirit has rejoined the realm of souls, waiting to return as ladybug or butterfly."

Revelation scratched his forehead and leaned toward the body while tightening his grip on my leg.

I had a mystery sprawled before me. A man had died in the back acres of Forest Park. How long had his body laid there?

I took a deep breath through my nose. I didn't smell decay. Perhaps he had died during the night or even just hours ago.

-So many ways he could have died.

Drugs?

Murder?

Heart attack?

Had the universe called me to his side? What should I do? Did I play a role in his unification with the end of his mortality?

"Should we call the fuzz?" Revelation asked.

"Hmmm. No. I don't believe we should. The departure of the soul from the body is a sacred experience. He might have family who wants to perform a hallowing to his body. If the POPO carts his body to the morgue, it could disrupt that. Let's see if he carries identification on him."

I pushed Revelation from my leg. He stepped behind me and wrapped his arm around his belly while I slid my hand under the cadaver's stiff buttocks and pulled his wallet out. I squatted and smelled the oaky wallet.

I held his driver's license. "Marcus Trenidy. Marcus, Marcus. Who were you in the living?"

According to his government-issued ID, he lived in the Elms Suburb--a place where people trade adventure for security. -passion for mundane.

"Lila, Lila, Lila!" Revelation screamed, turning his voice ragged. He clawed at my arm.

"Don't be afraid of death," I said, drawing Revelation into me.

He pointed behind me as he buried his head into my side. "It's the rat."

"Revelation, I taught you that all creatures are formed from Mother Earth. They all play a balance in our world. Even the rat."

I pulled him away. He had his comfort, and now he needed to show bravery.

"Holy Spirit of everything holy!" I yelled. A giant rat came at us, but I couldn't classify it as a rat. It had the face and beady red eyes of a rat but the body of a cat and the wings of a bat.

"That is a morphed rat-cat-bat." Then I chuckled." Hey, that rhymed."

The Franken cat-rat-bat came closer, with its haunches raised and a low hissing from its foaming mouth. I saw a stick next to the corpse, picked it up, and waved it at the hideous creature. I respected mother nature, but this wasn't mother nature. Could it be some form of evolution? No matter what it was, it foamed at the mouth. I didn't want rabies.

I poked the stick into the side of the beast.

It lunged at me.

Revelation took off in a run. As the beast's yellow teeth came within inches of my leg, I bopped it on the head. It yelped and then took to the sky.

It flew!

"We must be brave," I said in an unconvincing voice.

My heart raced as my limbs shook. Revelation sobbed. I almost wanted to sob at the unholy encounter.

A silky sensation brushed my lips as I sat and composed my emotions. I jumped, almost thinking it was the rat-bat-cat. "I make you pretty," Freedom said as she dusted the tulip on me.

"Oh, thank you."

I held my hand over my heart and tried to feign a smile.

"Do I look pretty, Lila?"

"You do, my little flower child."

Freedom's lips parted as she flashed her crooked teeth, slightly too big for her mouth.

My back creaked as I stood up. "Who wants to go on an adventure?"

"What about the body?" Revelation asked.

"Can we put him in the wagon with us?" Freedom asked.

"We do not want to bring imbalance to his departure," I replied.

"We can't leave him here?" Freedom said.

"He is with Mother Nature now." I walked to the wagon and picked up the metal handle. It had absorbed the heat of the sun and slightly burned my hand. "Hop in, kids. Let us pretend he is a troll, and we are on our way to the troll's lair to inform the king troll."

"What's his name, Lila?" Freedom swung into the wagon, and Revelation hoisted the rest of his sister in. She pulled her sundress over her legs. "What is the troll's name?"

"Troll Marcus."

Freedom scrunched her nose. "I don't like it. Let's call him Rumpus the Troll."

"So creative." I ruffled the top of Freedom's frizzy hair. "Rumpus, stay here. We go to your clan in good spirits."

It took us two hours to walk to Marcus' house. I couldn't believe it. There, in the heart of suburbia, reigned a monolithic dome. If I were to ever live in a permanent structure, it would be that. They are one of the most environmentally friendly buildings. The dude in the park didn't look like the eco-friendly type. By his threads, I had thought maybe he was a Wall Street sav who had been killed and dumped there.

"This is a funny house," Revelation said.

"What do you expect from a troll?"

Freedom tried to jump out of the wagon but landed on her hands. She looked up at me as her lip pouted out.

"Oh no, you aren't going to give in to those emotions," I said. "Pick yourself up."

Freedom stood up, slitting her eyes tightly.

"I see anger on you," I said. "Let it wash away."

Freedom's face grew tighter as she considered my words.

"Who will be the first to inform the king troll of our presence?" I asked, trying to distract Freedom from her feelings. It worked. Her face softened as she ran to the door. She pressed the doorbell over and over.

No one answered.

I knocked on the door. -nothing. I tried the nob, and the door swung inward.

"Hello," I said as I stuck my head in. "I come baring emergent news. Is anyone home?"

The musky smell of animals and excrement greeted me. Sounds of trapped animals called out in desperation.

"He has animals. We better check on them," I said to the kids. We followed a circular hallway around the dome, then entered another door to find an open room filled with cages and imprisoned animals.

"Poor babies," I cried. No animal deserved to be trapped in a cage. I didn't believe in pets. Mother nature created the perfect home for animals, and it wasn't inside someone's house.

Revelation asked, "What are they?" screeching much like the animals.

Energy vibrated in me as I noticed the animals. I grabbed Revelation and Freedom's hands.

Those weren't regular animals.

Someone had mutated them.

Probably the dead man.

"Hahaha." Freedom dropped my hand and ran to a glass case. A furry, black and white snake brought his head towards Freedom.

"Panda-snake," she sang.

"Snakes don't have fur." What was it?

Revelation dropped my hand and went to the cage with the dog that had webbed feet and a duck's beak.

I almost tripped when I saw the pig with wings. It looked just like the one I had seen in the clouds. Had that been a premonition?

"We should free the animals." Freedom said, trying to remove the screen from the glass. We had snuck into a pet shop four months ago and freed all the animals. Their rescue hadn't gone the way I had hoped. A week later, the news reported that four of the dogs I had liberated had gotten run over. The boa had crawled into a lady's house, and she had chopped off its head with a butcher knife. -so much for saving the animals.

Freedom pushed off the squeaky mesh top. The snake lunged up, and I quickly pulled the mesh back on the glass enclosure.

"We don't know if these animals are poisonous or dangerous."

"But you said all earth's creatures deserve to be free. Even the dangerous ones," Revelation said.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Freedom again pushed the mesh back. I quickly returned it and pulled her away from the glass case.

"What should we do?" I rubbed my elbows as I paced.

Freedom had a reddened chin from where she had pressed the tulip into it. I recalled her kissing the blood on the body. I think that was a bite. Had he died from the bite?

"The rat-cat-bat! That was one of the dead man's creations!" Had the bat-thing bit and killed the man? Seemed fitting. I didn't feel pity for him. He deserved to be killed by the creatures he tortured, though it gave me an appreciation for the danger of his franken-animals.

"I honestly don't know what to do right now."

"I wanna hold the panda-snake."

"I just don't think that is a good idea right now."

Freedom wined. "Why not, Lila?"

"I think one of these animals killed the man at the park."

Freedom's face went pale, and she jumped away from the snake case.

Revelation's arm wrapped around my leg. "Can we go now?"

"If we leave these animals, they will die. We must do something."

"Can they live in the grove with us?"

I lifted Freedom into my arms. "I don't think so. You know that mother nature's animals weren't meant to be pets." I put the neckline of my shirt into my mouth and sucked on it.

"Then let's free them."

"We can't do that either. What impact on the environment would these GMO creatures have? They could disrupt the whole earth's balance."

Freedom melted her body into mine. She kissed my cheek, and it burned as I remembered her lips had kissed Marcus' death wound.

"Lila, I'm hungry."

"Me too."

"Well," I said, shifting Lila to my other hip. "Let's see what there is to eat here."

"But it is troll food."

"Yeah, I know." I went to the fridge, nervous about what I would find. I tried as much as possible to eat organic, natural food. Surely, a scientific freak like Marcus would have a fridge full of GMO food. I opened the fridge and sighed. It mostly had leftover fast food Styrofoam containers. I searched the cupboards and found a jar of natural peanut butter and steel-cut oats.

"We are in luck," I said. "Did he have milk?" I reopened the fridge and, to my great relief, found a carton of almond milk. I could dig that.

As we ate dinner, I entertained all the possibilities for rescuing the animals.

Enlightenment hit me. "Freemont Island," I said as I ate my last bite of peanut-buttery oatmeal. Several of the nuts stuck between my teeth and gums. I picked a few out with my finger.'

The uninhabited Freemont Island was an hour-long boat ride from the bay. About three years ago, I camped on the island for a little under six months. The whole time we were there, we never saw one person step foot on it. I didn't doubt that people went to the island sometimes, but it wasn't often. We could steal a truck, drive the animals to the bay, then steal a boat and release the animals on the island. Hopefully, any random changes the animals caused would stay isolated to the island.

Too bad I couldn't take the mutant rat-cat-bat there. Oh well, he would just fly off it. But could he fly over the expanse of the ocean to land? -doubtful.

We walked around the now darkened neighborhood until we found a white cargo van with rust holes all over it. Its tinted windows made it look like one of those creepy vans that would slowly follow you into a dark alley and abduct you. I shivered.

The van door creaked as I opened it. Thankfully, it was parked on the house's east side, which had no windows or mounted cameras. I planned to hot-wire it. Luckily, the fates had left the keys in the glove box, and soon, we drove back to the monolithic dome.

After we carried eight strange creatures into the back of the van, Freedom asked, "Do you think Rumpus the Troll wants to go to the island with his animals?"

I stuck my tongue out. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided it had to happen. -if the police hadn't picked up the body yet.

"Yes, we don't want to leave him all alone in the park. He might get lonely."

I didn't have good vibes for the man. He had defied nature when he sliced, diced, modified, and created unnatural creatures. He had kept binders of each animal next to their cages with detailed notes on the process of making them. He even gave each animal a scientific name. I had brought the binders along. They should never get into anyone's hands who might try to replicate the man's work. I would take the deranged scientist to the island where his body could rot into minerals for the island. He could recompense his wrong as he fed the island creatures.

I dragged the wagon in the backwoods of the park. There weren't any streetlights at that end, and the wheels kept getting stuck on the roots. Perhaps the police had found Marcus.

"Here he is." Freedom ran to him. "Hi, Rumpus. How are you? Did you miss me?" Freedom twirled her finger in her hair as she twisted her legs back and forth.

In a very awkward attempt, the three of us managed to plop the body in the wagon. My back ached from carrying Marcus wrong. Thankfully, I had seen a ramp folded in the back of the van. With any luck, we could just pull the wagon and Marcus straight into the van.

At the harbor, we searched for the perfect boat with a cargo area at the bottom. It would have to be easy to steal.

Killer mosquitos siphoned our blood as we walked around.

"They hurt, Lila." Freedom smacked at one on her arm.

"I have eucalyptus oil back at the grove. Little good that does us now."

A sick yellow light cast shadows everywhere. The dock swayed and moaned like an elderly man. My kids were used to the outdoors at night, but even this creeped me out. Freedom whimpered. I felt like joining her but knew I had to look stalwart. I kept scanning the harbor to make sure we were alone, but one could never tell if people were living on some of the boats. A clammy chill penetrated our bones. "I wish I had grabbed some blankets from Marcus' house."

"Who is Marcus?"

"The troll," I said.

We found the perfect pontoon boat to steal.

Once we had safely stored the cages in the second deck, we returned to the van for the body. Marcus' torso slipped out and pushed Revelation down.

"Help! Help! He's killing me! Help!" Freedom and I pushed the body back into the wagon. Revelation shook as he cried.

"Buck up, son. Life happens. The corpse didn't kill you. I need you to help me and stop bellyaching."

Revelation wiped his eyes on the bottom corner of his shirt, then returned to pushing the wagon to the dock.

"Clank. Clank. Clank." The wagon wasn't quiet as we pushed it over the slotted wood. "Help me shove him in," I said as I parked the wagon next to the pontoon. We pushed and grunted until he plopped in.

"Is everything all right?" a deep voice from the shadows said. Was it the body talking? We all jumped.

A runner came over. "Is everything all right, Mam?" He looked at the pile of body in the boat. "Is your husband okay?"

I tried to go with the flow. "Oh yeah, sure. He is a little drunk?"

"Do you need help getting him out?"

"Oh, no. We are going for a midnight boat ride."

The yellow light turned the runner's expression jaundiced. "Do you think that is wise?"

"Oh, I don't need you to determine wise for me," I tried to throw shade. "We will be fine. My husband proposed marriage to me on this boat ten years ago. Every year, we take a pleasure cruise on the water to celebrate."

The man's eyebrows raised, and the shadows made them look pointed and sinister. He looked at Freedom and Revelation. "Are you two okay?" he asked them.

I stepped in between the runner and my kids. "Listen, let's keep things on point. I don't take kindly talking to a strange man alone in the dark. Head along now."

"You aren't alone. You have your husband who looks like he needs help."

I responded salty. "Head along," I said.

"Okay," the man jogged away, occasionally turning his head back to look at us.

Once the kids had settled into the pontoon, I pulled the cord to the motor, which revved to life. My hands still shook from the encounter with the runner. At least he wasn't the boat owner. That would have gone in a whole different direction.

"Good thing he didn't see the animals," Revelation said.

"Good thing."

The fish-smelling wind lashed at our faces, and we buried ourselves in some towels we had found on the boat. "We will ever get there?" Revelation asked.

"Yeah, this ride seems longer than I remember."

Once we reached the edge of the island. I dropped the anchor. "Help me unload everything."

The cages didn't take much doing but dragging that body through the water and onto the sand made my muscles howl in agony.

The light of dawn chased the darkness away. Exhausted, we curled together under the pile of towels and slept for hours. We woke about midday, sweltering under the hot sun. Sweat drenched us.

"Alright, let's liberate these creatures," I said.

We opened the steel cages, and the animals bolted for freedom. The dog-duck came to Revelation. Revelation giggled as he petted the canine.

I opened the glass case of the snake, and then tipped it to the ground. The panda-snake slithered out, then headed straight at Freedom. She no longer saw it as cute and scampered up my leg. I picked her up, and we ran from the snake. It came at us, and Revelation chucked a rock at it. The snake stopped and then headed the other way.

Purity filled me as we watched the animals disappear into the thicket. I half expected the pig with wings to fly away, but I think its body was too heavy.

"Lila, I am hungry."

Others would have killed the pig for food. Thick acid made its way up my throat at the thought.

"I know there are berries just over there," I said, pointing to the island's north. It had a rich growth of fruit, roots, and mushrooms.

When night came, we made a large bonfire and burned all of Marcus' binders.

Never should anyone repeat his experiments.

"Can we live here forever?" Freedom asked.

I was anxious to return to the grove and check on our tent. If we left it uninhabited for too long, someone would move into it and take all our things if that hadn't already happened.

"No, my flower child. But we will come back in a year to check on the animals, and then we can stay for several months."

"Why can't we stay forever?"

I rubbed my hand over her arm. "We just don't have the right supplies with us."

During our few days on the island, we never saw any of the creatures we had freed.

"Let's check on Rumpus before we leave.". We had eventually pulled him into a growth of ferns. We headed to it to say our goodbyes. A horrific smell greeted us. His body was returning to Mother Earth. Suddenly, I realized something.

"No one set your spirit free," I said. Despite his stench, I consecrated his body with spring water and did a ritual for death. I stilled my inner self as I practiced Anapansati.

"Go free, Marcus. And may you return as a mosquito that someone squishes."

After we loaded the pontoon and drifted away, the dog-duck and pig with wings stepped out from the brush.

"Bye, bye, bye," Freedom called as she waved to them.

The dog-duck sent us off with a bark that sounded more like quacking.

"May the universe work in your favor," I called.

"Will Rumpus the Troll be okay?" Freedom asked.

"He is part of the island now."

Marcus had brought the animals to life, and now, his flesh would nurture them if they were omnivores. Even if they were herbivores, he would fertilize the earth, and delicious plants would grow from the minerals he shed.

The sun warmed my arms as I relaxed. The beauty of the island begged us to return. Maybe we would be back before a year. I could smell the dead man's decaying body on my hands. -yuck.

"Don't you think Rumpus will get lonely?" Freedom asked.

"He gets what he deserves." I pulled the cord on the motor four times, and the engine sputtered and then roared. We sliced through the water as the island became smaller and smaller.

And I just left him there. After all, he was a dead body, one who had tried to disrupt nature, and I had the balance of the universe to worry about.

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The Body

by Stephanie Daich