BreakEven (1# BreakEven Saga) short story

So sorry it has been so long since I’ve posted something, it has been a pretty busy month what with the holidays and I know, I know it’s no excuse plenty of people still found the time to post multiple items per yet I couldn’t even produce one! Very lazy of me, yes? Well too bad! Some people are better at managing their time than others… so there. No but really I apologize so in turn I have come up with a story that just thrashed its way into my imagination and I hope you all enjoy and will kindly leave some sort of remark on something that you like or if it lacked something. This would really help me because I can’t really judge for myself whether it’s good or bad. So, it would really mean a lot to me.


This story was inspired by an awesome song called “Breakeven” by The Script. Summary: A man will do anything to keep his love happy, satisfied, pleased. Promises are kept- held fastly to his breast, but is there such thing as obsession? Is there such a thing called “Too Much Love”? Dam finds himself struggling with the reality of his once beloved Anya\’s moving on, romantically, to another man, named Stan… He wants- even feels it as a need- to have her back, and goes through torturous memories only to be swayed by his friend- a man who may indeed have a questionable past himself- who suggest the only solution to a fair break. Murder.

Spinning… twirling, skins touching, laughs breaking through massive ranges of natural silence forced in to a wheat field in the middle of spring time.

Dancing waist, clasping fingers, locking lips, and desperate hands play across bare flesh exposed not so accidently than you might think; and we laugh heartily, at nothing at all.

Lustful stares, and daring kisses hissed into one another’s ear.

“We’re alone, Dam.”  she says; so soothingly- she pulls me close.

A smile in to her ear with a breath of nothing but lust in the mist.

“Are you daring me, Anya Deaucate?” I countered with my own dare.

And the sweetest of  giggles splay from her cherry kissed lips as she holds me closer in her warm, smooth embrace that one man could only dream of in sin and never mind the comeuppance he would later receive for it.

“If it were, would you play?” she drew me with a growl.

Oh, she was a daring one, Anya was. She dared my heart on several occasions, sometimes with trinkets, sometimes with sex, but she never dared to leave me. She loved me.

Past tense was never my favorite.

It is a vile attempt to rekindle a past that was never meant to play any part in your future. The past is full of pains and mistakes that forever bombard your imagination and conscience. Forever… and forever is a long time, for I remember events like these daily- hourly at the most, and it gives me a headache in more than one form, mind you.

But she was my one, that laugh- the one I miss so dearly it hurts my heart to even think of it, and I think of it every day- that laugh that played thievery in my ear and those hands that had done me pleasure with just a caress upon my cheek, and a kiss on my lips.

I love her.

Present tense; and that will never change, mind you. She is my addiction; my forever mi amore.

So, I will ask you one question: If this woman broke your heart, left you for another man, and never so much as turned around and said she was sorry- said that she sympathized with you; that she felt the same way as you, but it would never work and it pained her to say so; if this woman stood by with a smile on her face and held another man close to her side- let him kiss her!- with his filthy, crusty, sap sucking lips; wouldn’t you kill him too?

With an angel’s laugh playing and replaying in your conscience… as you watched the only love you’ll ever know let her body close to another’s in love’s embrace; she is happy-  and that, in itself, should have been enough, no?- she is happy with this man, and she feels nothing for you. And it is your fault.

Who do you blame?

Do you blame a God you never believed in?

A man you have never met whom takes greedy pleasures in running his hands all over your love?

Allah, then of course, no?

Who is to blame!

The rosy cheeked dame, whose long silver hair and eyes the color of a bleeding Violet, mocked you in your dreams every single night?

“Dam,” she whispered me as she lie in my arms; her skin touching mine- this being no accident- and her hair lay as a blanket upon us, tickling my chest and face, “if I ever left you, would you come after me?”

“Yes, I would.” And then, “why do you ask me this?” my heart fluttered at the very mention of her even hinting at wanting to leave me.

“Hypothetical reasons, nothing more.” She utters, “I would never leave you, you know that.”

And I believed her.

“And I would never let you go.” I said to her.

She never knew how true that statement would be.

Is it love? Or a Disaster in disguise?

“I never said I was cheating on you, Dam.” She explained. At this point she had been talking, and talking; no action of course, just that blasted talking! “I never, ever cheated on you…”

“…until recently.” I finished for her.

“But until then I had never done it!” she impressed.

She sat across from me in a diner we found ourselves going to for “important talks” every… single time. I loathed this diner, very much so that I now hate it to this day. Her body was awkwardly adorned in what is called a “Boyfriend shirt”, which is ironic now particularly because I had no idea who her boyfriend was or if she even had one and why she would possibly want to wear one during a break up session was beyong even my comprehension. Her eyes were raised above her cheek bones by bags, which indicated either a sleepless night due to our break up… or other, rather, productive occupations. Her hair blonde- silver hair was tied into a messy bun and she didn’t bother to raise the glasses that sat low on the bridge of her nose.

I leaned over, suddenly to her, and pushed them gently upward for her. She was taken aback only for a moment before the glasses slid back down at the same time she suited herself, as if indicating that she was now calmed down to her normal state just by the sliding of her glasses.

“You’re obviously leaving me,” I stated plainly, “why should it matter whether you cheated on me now or then?”

She scowled lightly at me: “Don’t be so sour, Dam.” And yanked her gaze away from mine, which was evenly placed on her, impenetrably.

“Sour is for grumpy old men who’ve stubbed their gout toe against the coffee table.” I countered. “ No, I’m pissed…and…horrified. Who is this guy?”

She sat back in her glossy red booth and folded her arms defiantly over her chest; the chest that rose and fell with ever intake sweet oxygen.

“What’s it to you?” she countered back.

I raised my hands in surrender: “No. Forget him. What happened to us?” I gestured between she and I.

Her arms slowly unfolded and her countenance shifted from that of someone who was angry to someone who felt nothing.

“We grew apart-“

“You… grew apart. From me.” I corrected.

“I don’t have time for this,” she began to stand and so did I, “I have to go meet Stan-“

“Stan is it?” I returned quickly, “Couldn’t find a guy with a spicier name?”

She gauffed: “What, like Dam?”

I winked at her.

She gasped a laugh and shook her head.

“You…” she wagged her finger at me, “you are- “

“Not letting you go.” I finished for her.

Her finger dropped as did her expression and she hoisted up a rather large pocketbook that looked as if it weighed half a ton.

“-impossible.” She turned to leave but I took her hand in mine. She looked at it as if it were covered with germs and spittle.

“I can’t let you go.” I told her again.

She stopped glaring at our hands and held my gaze with a neutral look.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“And what if I did?”

She was taken aback by my response.

“What if I didn’t want you to throw away four years of magic? Four years of this miraculous thing we have together.”

She took her hand out of mine and began stepping backwards toward the door.

She shook her head: “Had, Dam.” And she turned away and toward the door; opening it swiftly before exiting without even a good bye.

One month later… And a hernia

“Dam!-Jesus will you- no don’t throw that!”

But of course it was too late, I had already thrown his “Velvet Rope” album out the window.

“Bastard! You could have at least thrown it on the bed.” He scratched his head. “She still not talking to you.”

“Argh!” A chair went out the window subsequently.

“I take that as a no.”

I turned to him, my face was dripping with salty sweat from my… eh… heated activity.

“She won’t even text me.” I told him. “Or Poke me on Facebook for that matter!”

He squinted at me: “Dude, nobody Pokes anymore.”

I was pacing and even that had been stopped by the then and very sudden and blasphemous words that had escaped his mouth.



I wiped the sweat from my forehead and lip and dropped myself on Cray’s bed. This young fellow  has beenby my side since even before Anya so that i now consider him my best friend. He is twenty-three years old and still lives with his mother which, in term, has left him alone without any such handsom suiters coming and going at all hours of the night such likes your modern bachelor. But, he is a good fellow- trustworthy, and kind; he has done very much for me, which is why i knew he would forgive me for throwing his items out the window.

“Dam, I may- may not be in, you know, the right position to say this, but you need to get layed-“

“No!” I shouted before he could finish his sentence.

Cray shrugged his bulky shoulders: “It was an option.” I glared at him, “I was obviously kidding.” he added.

I gaped out a sarcastic laugh and searched his room for some other pointless artifice of his I could throw out the window.

“H-hey stop that!” Cray demanded, “You are not throwing anything else out the window.”

And I started to cry, which is when Cray threw his hands in the air.

“Dam, I think she really is ready to move on. You can’t force her to take you back, it won’t work. Stop trying.”

I shook my head: “No, no I can’t do that… I told her I would never let her go.”

He clapped a burly hand on my shoulder : “I think it’s about time you have…”

I continued to shake my head.

“Cray, you know what this feels like.” I quietly stated, knowing that there was nothing but plain truth in my words.

He released my shoulder and dropped himself down heavily on the bed next to me.

“Yes.” Was all he said.

“So don’t stop me.”

He looked at me, but said nothing. His grey eyes had gone dim and his body seemed smaller than its usual largeness. He was thinking about Raven; a girl who long ago had broken his heart to be with her best friend, who was a girl. Pity, she was adorably subtle and charismatic when the need arose, quite the toy as well, at least that was what Cray had told me.

I yanked out my phone while Cray tortured himself with reveries and dialed Anya’s number.

It rang: one, two, three, four- an answer!

“What, Dam?” she said tiredly, there was a lot of indifference in her tone, as well as malice.

“H-how are you?”

“You don’t really want to know that do you?”

She was right, I could care less. What I really wanted to know was where Stan was and if he was at a small enough size for me to throw him out Cray’s window without throwing my back out.

“I-I do, really.”

“You’re lying, Dam.”

“How would you know that!”


Then a sigh.

“You stutter when you lie.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up.

“Have I always done that?”


“And you’re just now telling me this why?”

I could hear her shrugging her smooth shoulders.

“Didn’t seem relevant at the time.” She said.

“Right. Anyway, where are you?”

“Uh… if I tell you that-“

“Never mind.”

“You don’t even-“

“Yeah I do.”

“Then why did you ask-“

“Because I am really bored and tortured and I wanted to hear your voice.” I told her quickly, “I miss you, Anya.”

Silence again.

I could feel the tension on her; hear it through the slightly bothered signal.



“Stop calling me,” she said, “it annoys Stan.”

I mimicked the name Stan silently with what had to have been a very dramatically over produced facial expression.

“I don’t care about Stan.” I quietly told her.


The line started crackling.

“I-I don’t care about Stan!” I practically yelled.

“I can’t hear you your phone is breaking up.” she nearly shouted into the receiver

I exhaled heavily.

“Stan can kiss my ass!” I bellowed before hanging up. “Goddamn cell phone service!” I hissed as I threw my cell down on Cray’s bed.

Cray looked from me to the cellphone to me again.

“Okay, now how come you didn’t throw that out the window?”

Two months later… And absolute insanities commence

Psychology could tell you that any man in love would do anything for his beloved. This is not an overstatement, an hyperbole, or an exaggeration.

I would have killed for Anya, and served that lifetime in prison if it meant seeing her every day; feeling her skin on my cheek, my back, my neck- my arm. Her lips…

Her Violet eyes on mine alone, a gaze that was only meant for my own.

“Dam, I- I can’t believe you did this, for me.” She is mesmerized by the garden house I had built for her myself in her small but comfy backyard. “This is so beautiful- but it must have cost you a fortune.”

I smile at her and shake my head, taking her hand- her softly slightly jittering hand- in mine; leading her slowly into a greenhouse filled with Rhododendrons, Lilies, Oleander, Birds Of Paradise, Tulips. Yet there was not a Rose in sight.

“No Roses?” she asked me curiously.

“Why? Such an odd question coming from the Rose herself.” I return her.

And she smiles at me, with red lips and bright eyes. She grasps my hand more tightly; with love- nothing but love traveling through her fingertips to mine, and into my heart, forever warming it as it beats.

Now… Now I walk along these streets alone, watching couples ogling at one another, and do they truly love each other? Would they stay?

A lovely Brunette strolls by me; she is alone as well, and she seems so busy with herself- chattering on her little cellphone- swaying her hips as if she dares the first young fellow that spots her to come to her; come speak to the pretty dame mocking you this very instant.

Then she does something I had not expected. She turned around once- oh!-she double takes and her eye catches mine. She was, truthfully, very pretty, yet I could not have cared less. She smiled a neutral smile at me, seeing my gaze on her just the same- only in different degrees of course- and she turns back, reluctantly, and continues on her mysterious journey down the noisy sidewalk by the busy streets.

I assure you if a heavenly light had shone upon her I would have missed it. Not even God’s most Angelic broad could distract me from the one I truly wanted. Truly loved, and needed.

Suddenly a shoulder crashes against mine from behind.

“I’m sorry.” The silvery blonde muttered to me.

A man following behind her like a dog turns around to me with his hands in the air gesturing something that I suppose was supposed to have been some bodily apology.

“Sorry, man, she’s rather in a hurry.” He smiles kindly.

And I know right away who this dismal walking disaster is.

“Anya.” I said in a low, rather pitifully cloaked hurt tone.

She heard me, surprisingly, and turned around. Hanging up her phone without so much as a TTYL to her recipient.

“Dam…” I saw her lips form. Then she did something I had not expected. She smiled. “Dam! This is Stan!”

She tossed her phone into that giant bulk of fabric she calls a purse and leans almost all of her weight on to Stan’s skinny little arm.

“Wow! It’s been awhile.” She said excitedly. I looked about her to see if there was some subtle hint of satire in her tone. There was not.

I shrugged.

“Yeah… well, you told me never to call you again.” I reminded her halfheartedly.

Her smile only faltered a hint before she caught and held it, fiercely.

“Wait,” Stan finally breaks in, uninvited, mind you, “you’re Dam? The Dam?” he did a quick swipe of palm against his trousers before presenting it to me for a handshake.

But why would I take his hand?

“Yes,” I told him slowly, ignoring his outstretched hand, “I am

The Dam as you put it.”

He cleverly took his hand back and ran his fingers through his hair with the hand that would have graced the presence of my right hand: “Right,” he said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

My eyebrows rose automatically to this: “Really now?” I wondered, “What has she told you?”

“Oh- well, she-“

“Dam, what brings you out on this fine day?” The way was particularly cloaked with dark gray clouds and a sprinkling atmosphere, just so you know.

“A walk,” I blatantly told her. I very much wanted to hold her hand, though. And I wanted to tell her this. I wanted to shove Stan away from her and kick him into the streets. “never can get too much exorcise.”

She nodded, indifferently, but with that ingenuous smile still plastered on her face: “Right, yes. Never enough…” she looked off into a random direction. She was uncomfortable. And that, somehow, made me a little more comfortable. “Stan, darling, tell him the news.” She suddenly broke a much more genuine smile. One that I remember dearly. One that at more than one occasion was focused on me, followed by her body hugging my arm, like she was doing now… with Stan.

“What news?” I dumbly asked.

“Ah!- yes! The news.” He looked at her uncertainly. Then, with a subtle nod of her head he straightened into a surer position. “Yes, Anya and I are to be married!”

Somehow I managed to choke off of nothing: “Really!” I bellowed, “Fantastic!”

And seeing as how I was choking I couldn’t bring myself to say another word. So, I did what any sane man in his mid twenties would do; I turned around and ran.

And quite impressively quick, if I might add.


I cannot remember how I got to this place, only that I was with my mother’s friend, Vain- I think his name was- though I can’t see how I could forget him, after all, he will later play a large role in this story.

I had run for some time after hearing such “fantastic news”. I know I was out of breath, and…crying- sobbing for use of a better word. No one loves a sugar-coater.

“Dam, my boy! What brings you here-“ Vain, oh  Vain, he is a sweet old man, of, possibly, sixty-two, and I’ve gone to him on more than one occasion to ask this well-seasoned man for romantic advise. He had never failed me. Which leads me, now, to believe that he was the one who our love together; like glue holding the Ming vase together. Vain now sees a bothered young man sobbing his eyes out in what is now a dreadfully wet evening. He quickly glanced about the grounds around his warehouse and tucked me under his wing into a dryer yet even darker interior.

There are no lights on in this room, I see nothing- hear nothing except my own ragged breaths and his calm one. I can feel the thick layers of dust floating about the room kiss my skin, my face and arms, as he leads me through a black maze.

“Dam,” I heard him say in the dark, “what has happened to you?”

I sniffle like a fool in answer to him.

“It is not Anya?” he wonders aloud.

Suddenly a single light comes on and I see an old square table that I could describe as being used for various card games or tentative discussion.

He sat me down gently in a rickety chair and sat himself down across the table from me in a similar one.

“Speak to me, Dam.”

But I couldn’t. My head was spinning and my stomach felt…. Indescribable: my stomach fluttered with violent butterflies; my head obscured my vision with dizziness and nausea; it was… hot, claustrophobically hot; I was sweating nearly uncontrollably.

I shook my head.

Vain leaned back into his chair, rubbing the thin stubble of graying beard on his chin.

“She left you.”

I scoffed soundly: “Well obviously!”

He raised his hand to calm me.

“Speak to me,” he slowly uttered, “don’t punish me.”

I fingered my hair, nearly pulling it clean out of the roots on my scalp, and I rocked- slightly on the chair; hearing it scringe, scringe, scringe.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard…” I said, “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

He watched me distantly with knowing eyes- eyes that burned with something I had never seen before. I had known Vain to be a calm, peaceful man. My mother had met him at one of her AAI meetings, twenty years ago. While she, herself, is only forty now; this old man had played quite a game over her eyes, she could not part with him since.

“Vain?” his foot was tapping rapidly on the dusty stone floors.

Then a sudden focus came into his eye; the fire extinguished.

He let out an exhausted sigh and flung his hairy, mass-tamed arms into the air.

“It is supposed to hurt, Dam,” he said, and then, with more sorrow in his voice I know he never meant to reflect me, “it always hurts…it never goes away.”

We sat silently across from one another in two rickety chairs in front of an old poker table. I heard his foot, the Tap, Tap, Tapping of an honest man’s nervous foot as he played with his oddly shrill fingers.

“She was not supposed to find him, Vain.” I suddenly said, “I can’t be the only one left to suffer.”

His gaze snapped back to me: “Who says she is not suffering?”

“Have you seen her Facebook?” I practically shouted.

Vain only sat there, looking confused, and amused.

He smiled: “Facebook is where storytellers bread with their imaginations, Dam,” he quietly said.

I ran my fingers, once again, through my now damp, dark locks, and let my foot force my chair back on to its two back legs.

“The point is,” I explained slowly, “that she is happy, with him… in her arms!” I dropped my feet and slapped my hands on the table; feeling the prickling sting of the impact from the wooden surface against my palm and fingertips.

Vain sat still across from me; his soundless foot no longer tapping, and yet a smile continued to play across his face.

“Then, my friend, you break your heart in two,” he said, “and give her half- give her half of your broken heart. And you will be even.”

My gaze rose to his after first examining my burning, red palms: “And how,” I defiantly asked him, “do you suppose I do that, Vain?”

He looked at me as I had asked the dumbest of questions.

“Break her heat-“ he stood, “-kill Jamberee.”

“Hi-his name is, Stan, Vain.” I corrected him.


I dropped myself into the chair shoved slightly further behind me than before, and stared into nothingness; not believing what Vain had just suggested.

“And I can’t do that?” I told him after some time of impenetrable silence, “Wo-would you do it.”

He looked at me sternly, unwaveringly: “I have done it,” he said, “but do I regret it?” he gradually lowered himself back into his chair, obviously removed from his sudden spur- of- the-moment hype, “I don’t.”

We watched each other intently; playing lost reveries for one another in each other’s eyes.

Vain had never told me of his own past loves, and I wondered if this was reason why.

My mother’s best friend was a murderer.

He cleared his throat: “Dam, have you… ever wondered why I hardly- if ever- see your mother?”

I shook my head.

He nodded curtly: “Good.” He stood again, “lead the way, Dam.” He gestured at the door.

“I-I can’t do it, Vain.” Though, I knew I was lying to myself. I could kill Stan, I wanted to kill Stan. Stan took everything from me. Stan… was Stan.

“You’re lying to me.” He stated.

I sighed exasperatedly: “I know, I know. It’s the stuttering.”

“Not likely, the lie is in your eyes.”

I stood with him: “If I do this,” I reluctantly asked him, “will she take me back?”

He smiled a pitying smile: “if a woman killed your love in the hopes of your falling back into love with her,” he said, “would you take her back?”

I yanked my gaze away from his.

Why did he want me to do this?- you must want to know.

Because: a heart breaks evenly, one cannot feel pain without the other feeling it too.

But could I risk her never speaking to me again, just so she would feel the same pain I felt?

No, no I have to admit I could not. Not now, anyways. But then, I would have done anything to make her suffer like I had suffered; to make her feel those violent butterflies every time she saw me like I did for her.

Stan was in the way; Stan was my barrier; Stan kept her from me.

Stan needed to go.

“What do I get out of this?” I whispered to the dusty air around me.

“Satisfaction.” He simply answered.

But would it satisfy me?


For The Love Of Lycanthrope

This is just a little story I had fun writing… So grammar and typos weren’t exactly on the top of my list but it still made me laugh while writing it and I hope  it will make you guys laugh a little ( slight giggle?)


 Two brothers born into the world as humans only to be changed into werewolves by a man named Banks to take refuge in a large manor with other changed characters. In the eyes of other’s these two brothers would be seen as Light and Dark, Completely different with different priorities. Dante is in love with his wolf side and attempts to find a way to stick it, permanently. Whereas Jace is in love with a human girl named Annalisa and desires human form more than ever and has even found a witch doctor to remove his wolfism, permanently, of course. Dante does not agree with Jace’s choice in priorities, and attempts to persuade him to stay a werewolf. By any means necessary.


There is nothing like the forest under your paws; the leaves breaking under your weight, the wind silencing the noisy breach of the broken leaf for your stealth.

As you hunt, you feel invisible, invincible, deadly and kingly like an Alpha should. No one can take this away from you without a fight. No one would dare try to steal my rightful position.

Except Banks, of course, he made me, he’s the Omega.

Banks- my father gave me the opportunity to take this rank from his right hand. Betrayal, maybe? I wouldn’t call it that. I would just call it- “Giving to me what was meant to be mine”- nothing wrong with that.

That is why I understand completely why he didn’t give it to Jace; that would have been the death of the pack. He was too weak- feeble minded. He was too…human.

And naïve if not foolish.

He shames the pack, in my own personal opinion of course. I would never share this opinion with Banks, that wouldn’t exactly end in my favor. Not that Banks would kill me, he just loves his little Jace, like his own flesh and blood. The blood part is actually an accurate analysis describing our relation. Neither of us were made the way pups are usually made. We mate but we are sterile. Banks found Jace and me. The way it works here: you either bite or your transfer blood…wolf blood-into the human’s veins. They are both dangerous and I myself would probably never try it on a premature infant like myself, at the time. I wouldn’t have changed Jace at all, though.

He was a mistake in my eyes, or- out of sheer pity- some hopeless kid left behind by uncaring parents.

Jace should have stayed behind.


God, I never want this to end.

I never want to leave this moment.

I don’t want to change…

I want to stay here, with her.

Those eyes… her eyes… are like magnets, they just keep drawing me deeper in to those shocking blue eyes.

Her soft hands caressed my cheek, her eyes unfaltering.

“I love you, Jace, but I can’t keep waiting for you like this,” she said to me, “I can’t keep wondering and wondering where you go for weeks-sometimes months without even saying goodbye. Jace. Jace?-listen, I’m not breaking up with you, I’m just letting you know that this needs to stop. I can’t handle it.”

She’s talking about my leaving, after I shift.

Something I cannot control.

Something I hate.

I never wanted it and I wonder why Banks even bothered to change me. I would’ve been happier with two legs for the rest of my life.

I refuse to let the tears well up in my eyes, as I prepare to lie to her again.

I can’t keep doing this either…

“I know… and I’m sorry.” I said, “’s complicated.”

Just forcing the words from my mouth was a challenge, lying to her was like slowly drawing a blade up my forearm creating a large gash.

I needed to be cured.

Was that even possible?

Annalisa sits across from me in the booth of our favorite diner, Tate. Yes that’s actually the name of the diner; Tate.

Her hand was still on my cheek when I answered her but her eyes were filled with disappointment. She wouldn’t understand if I told her the truth. Would she?

I don’t want to take the chance and find out.

I just needed time to find a cure for this…this thing. I just don’t want this, I never did and I never will.

I just want her.


This is a bad day for me.

I’m human, for one. And Jace is nowhere to be found.

“Banks!” I called.


Was I the first one to shift?

Did anybody live in this house anymore?

“God! now I have to do the laundry.” I groaned

“Oh! No you don’t!” yelled a familiar yet irritating feminine voice. “You are not touching my underwear, ever again. Don’t think I don’t remember the last time I caught you with them.”


Okay, this is not what it sounds like. I was merely glancing at the fantastic lace work and intricate seams.

“That… was an accident.” I said with what little dignity I now had left.

“Yeah-sure-whatever just don’t touch my clothes again,” she said, “I’ll do my own laundry.”

“Fine by me.” evil bitch.

She glared at me as if she read my mind.

And I wouldn’t be surprised if she had.

“Oh, by the way, where is Jace?” I asked evil bitch.

“He went out with Annalisa.” she said nonchalantly, which pisses me off, actually, because that girl is the worst in my book… too clingy.

I sighed and pushed my fingers through my slightly matted blonde hair.

“Thanks” I muttered.


I went outside and kicked over a trashcan.

“Whoa whoa, sup with you, man?” said Tyse. He was made about a year after Jace and me. And I felt that he deserved it way more than Jace did.


“What is it now?” he asked with false exasperation.

I smiled a bit at the joke.

“He’s out with her again.”

Now it was his turn to go dark. He hated the relationship more than I did now.

“Dammit! I thought you took care of that.”

“I’ve been busy.” I said.


I smiled again.

“I found something big. That’s all I’m saying.” I chuckled.

“Nah nah that ain’t right. You got to tell me something.” He had a point, though the point was mute to me at the time. I just needed the details to stay close to home.

“I’m looking for a way to stop the shifting… in wolf form.”

His face was blanker than a sheet of paper.

“You want to stick the wolf…”

I nodded slowly, a grin creeping wide onto my face.

“That’s crazy-impossible actually. How exactly were you planning on doing this?

“That… I cannot tell you.”

“Because you don’t know-”

“I know enough to- wait… he’s here.”

We both turn around to see Jace skulking up the drive. His posture said pitiful; his expression said hopeless.

“Have another fight?” I chuckled lightly.

He grimaced and shook his head.

“I just want her…to understand.” he said quietly.

Now my face went blank.

“You’re not telling her.” said Tyse.

“I don’t think I’ll have to.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“I found… a witch doctor not too far from here. She thinks she can help me out of this…this thing.”

Tyse and I both bristled.

“That thing was given to you… in all intense and purposes, he didn’t have to give it to you. You were made for this pack and the members of this pack are grateful for what they were given.”

“I never asked for this and you know it, Dante.” he said, he was shaking, not out of fear like I would have expected, but out of anger. Bravo, Jacey.

“It doesn’t matter if you asked for it, Jace, you wouldn’t be here if he didn’t do it.”

He pinched up his face and shoved passed Tyse and me into the house, and slammed the door.

“It’s the bitch.” I growled.


“Kill her?”


“Just a thought…”

“Stupid thought.”


Why does it seem like so much to ask for?

I just want to be human, lead a human life.

Why is that so difficult… so despised by them?

I took my hair out of its ponytail and let it free. I felt restrained when it was back.

I felt the need to call Annalisa, but, somehow, I knew she wouldn’t want to talk to me. I dumped my body onto my bed and mused.

I was an eighteen year old werewolf…against his will. What do I do?

Obviously witch doctors were frowned upon, but Banks…maybe Banks would understand. Maybe somehow he would hear me. Let me go to the witch.

But the thinking about him, and the witch’s remedy, I felt like I was betraying him.

Dante was right about that part: he didn’t have to change me.

But he did.

And it saved my life. But this life is not me, the woods the hunting the pack itself was pointless to me. And the ranks were ridiculous. This world is not a world I want to live in.

A world without Annalisa.

A world without Annalisa was impossible to live in.

I need her more than I need this pack.

She’s full of love and beauty… she loves me for me despite my sudden shifting.

The shifting she doesn’t know about.

I want to keep it that way.

I never want her to know about this thing inside me. This monster.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

It’s Milan.

“Hey,” she said. “I… heard what happened… outside. You know you guys aren’t exactly subtle? Needs some work.” She tries to chuckle a little; lighten the mood. But my mood is too conflicted.

“I don’t know what to do, Milly.”

Her gaze is sympathetic, that’s what I like about her. She “gets” things no one else bothers to understand.

“You know what to do, babe, you just need to…”

“Stop being a coward?- yeah I know.”

“You’re no coward, Jace.” she said. “If you were you would’ve listened every damned thing that bastard down there said to you.” then she looks away; combs her fingers through her hair. “I never asked for this either…I don’t have what you have to think about but- I don’t want this. Don’t get me wrong I love Banks and Jade…she’s like a mother to me, but this isn’t me. For one: I hate eating deer, it’s gross. And two: I feel violated. All these wolves in my head… it’s just not right.”

“Jade would have a field day if she knew this you know.”

She chuckled again more freely this time.

“Yeah… I know, but it’s the truth.”

“And the truth shall set you free…or bite us in the ass.”

We both laughed and agreed to this statement.

“Jace, why don’t you just tell her?”

“Do you think she’d believe me?” I try not to yell. “She wouldn’t… she said she loves me but I don’t think she would if she knew.”

“I think she would.”

“Do you want to tell her?”

She looks at me as if to say that I am an idiot.

“Okay never mind, bad idea.”

“Uh huh.”

I smile up at her.

“You have some way with words.”

“Oh I try.” she feigns humbleness.

“I’m sure you do.”


I don’t think I can do this anymore.

It’s too hard!

“One more, Lisa! Come on! You can do it.” Shouts my mother on her hands and knees bombarding my personal space.

We have been work out buddies for three months four days a week, and it is not fun. At all.

“Thirty!” I struggled to breathe and fall flat on my back as tackled my thirtieth sit-up.

My mother shakes her head and clicks her tongue.

“You need to work on those, thirty is not acceptable.”

“It’s… acceptable… when you…you’re being screamed at… in the process!” I said… sort of.

“That’s no excuse, darling. An eighty year old could easily push fifty.”

“An eighty year old on steroids!”

My phone rings and I jump up to rush for it.

It’s Jace.

And all the dread I felt before comes back, filling me sadness and disappointment. The hurt.

“What is it, Jace.” I said, not quite in a questioning tone.

“I need to talk to you.” He said in his sad little voice.

“Are you going to tell me-”

“I- Anna… can I come over?”

“Fine.” I close my phone before he gets the chance to say anything else. Anything else to excuse the inexcusable.


I nod.

“I’ll get started on dinner then. Give you two some privacy.”

I just nod my head again. Too afraid to say anything. Too afraid because I might cry, again.

This feeling so totally wound up in my chest just aches with the idea that Jace is cheating on me. I know he is. It couldn’t be anything else. Unless he was dying-but I wasn’t going to think about think about that. That hurt more than the cheating theory.

There’s a knock at the door, which makes me start.

I go to open it and of course it’s Jace.

I make sure my face is completely blank.

“What do you want to talk about?”

He peers over my shoulder and sees my mom rummaging around in the kitchen.

“Can you come outside…”

I sigh and step onto the stoop.

“What is it?” I asked exaggeratedly.

He shoves his fist into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels.

He looked tired and…scared almost. The cool winter air makes me regret coming out without a sweater at least. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the cold. Then again, he has on a big black windbreaker and fingerless gloves. His long dark hair is pulled back into it’s usual low ponytail. Framing his face nicely and making his beautiful green eyes pop. Almost animal like are his eyes, but they are wonderful to look at, either, human or other.


I wait, trying to get him to hold my gaze. He keeps looking away. And I give up.

“Look, just forget about it. I gotta go.” I said after what felt like hours after watching him roll around on his heels.

He grabs my wrist before I can get to the doorknob.

“I’m a werewolf, Anna.”


“Does that boy ever stay in this house?”

“He went to see his girlfriend, Dante. I’m sure if you had an inkling of a heart yourself you might have one too and wouldn’t be around so often to wreak your disgusting havoc.”

“That was an accident!”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

I need to get out of here. I need to shift and I need to shift now.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” said Milan.

“Who’s the pervert now?”

“You know I can’t read your mind in my human form.”

I should just…not talk to her… anymore.

“I’m outta here.”

“As well you should be.”

I throw invisible knives at her with my eyes and head out the door.


No peace… there is no peace in this form.

God I am so agitated. I just need to get into the forest and I’ll be fine. I’ll be good.

I’ll be close enough to good…

“What, Tyse?” I sighed.

“Whoa, somebody needs a good shift.”

“Yeah. What do you want?”

He smiles a bit before shaking it off.

“Milan told me Jace went to go tell his girlfriend… the truth. Everything.”

I’m sure my pupils dilated because Tyse backed away from me.

“She’s a gossip queen, you know that.”

“Milan?-uh as much as I would love to agree with you. She’s one of the straight ones around here.”


“My words exactly…”

I blow out a gust of internal air and scratch at my scalp. Nervous habit.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know yet… do you know if he’s still going to the witch?”

“He might… Most likely. Why?”

I grimaced.

“That…That is not going to work for me. I need to carry out this plan quicker than I thought.”

“What plan?”

“The plan that will instill our wolf form.”

“I don’t think anyone wants that…”

I glare at him.

“That’s the only way to keep him in the pack. That damn witch might kill him if she does what I think she’s going to do.”

“Wolfs bane…”



“Uh Yeah.”

“Does he know the risk in that?”

“He’s Jace…”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“Okay what do you think we need to do?”

“I don’t know… I’m not sure how much time I have.”

We pace around each other. The snow underneath our feet crunching with every puncture of our steps. The wind picked up making the air a blast of freezing breeze. Like knives attacking your face. The night sky overshadowing the wood not too far from the manor lies still; stiff with unmovable thick branches.

Then it hit me.


Tyse stopped pacing when he heard the word.

He turned to me with a look of half astonishment and shock.

“That could go both ways, D.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

“But she’s not!”

“Oh… you don’t know that. She might like the idea of joining her mutt mate in the woods on all fours.” I grinned.

“That’s too crazy, Dante, you could be faced with a murder.”

I look at him, thoughtfully.

“I’ve done worse.”

I saw the gasp from the wisp of fog that floated around in front of his mouth.

“Alright, Tyse… In or out?”

“Do you know how dangerous that could be!”

“Do you know that she wouldn’t be the first for me?”

Ah another shocked look from the big guy.

“Did you…”

“It was unfortunate.” I said nonchalantly.

“Jesus, Dante.”

“Not even close. Now… in or out?”


She may have fainted when I told her I was a werewolf; she may have fainted when I shifted.

In front of her.

I don’t know.

I nudged her cheek with my nose.


I hear myself whimper and I try to will her awake with my nonexistent subliminal messaging powers.


I sigh.


Her mom.

“Lisa, are you okay?”

Jesus. Talk about bad timing.

I reluctantly leave Annalisa there, on the stoop, and dash into the near by wood around the side of the house. The snow feels almost like under my paws as I run buoyantly over the snowy plane.

“Oh my God! Lisa!” I heard Ms. Valour scream.

I wished I could have stayed with her, but it would’ve looked bad. And I probably would’ve gotten shot. This is, after all, Scarlet, Maine. People around here tended to let off a few rounds if they were frightened.

Or bored.

I try make my way…anywhere.

Anywhere but here. At lease until I shift back.

And I don’t know even when that will be.

I look into the sky and see a half moon. Not full.

So why did I shift?

Maybe it won’t last as long.

How did I not notice it before? It seems an awful lot to miss on a black night like this.

I run out into the street by accident and a stranger in a car honks at me. Swerving around my large frame and back into it’s proper lane, they continue to speed down the street like thieves.

Jesus, anybody know how to use a break anymore?


Stupid mutts never know how to stay out of the streets.

I was just forced to swerve around some dog to save it’s stupid life.

God, teach these animals some common sense or take ’em into your bosom.

I sat alone in Jade’s old little Honda. Without Tyse. He seemed to think it would be “ridiculously effed up” if I transferred my blood into Annalisa’s.

Yes of course it might kill her. But it may also save my damn brother. What choice did I have? Banks always treated us like twins, losing one would be like losing both and that might take my rank away. And I was not going to let Jace take the pack away from me all because he wanted a little booty. No!

I worked for that damn spot- killed Bank’s best friend for it, I am not giving it up so he can be with some chick. She’s probably a blonde. I know it…she’s a blonde.

I noticed my grip was a little tight on the stirring wheel, making my knuckles turn white, and my speedometer was well over the actual twenty-five mile speed limit.

But I didn’t care.

I just needed to find the girl.


I feel like Bella Swan from Twilight.

Except my boyfriend doesn’t sparkle and I don’t have a speech impediment.

He is a werewolf, though.

That doesn’t happen…ever!

He must have been lying, or joking, or-or something. That just isn’t possible.

“Lisa, do you want some water, sweetie?”

“No, mom, I’m-I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry for working you so hard- I didn’t think you were so out of shape.”

“It’s okay, mom, just- can you give me a minute?”

“Okay, honey. I’m really sorry. I’ll make your favorite peach cobbler for dessert.” She skips out of the living room, literally, and into the kitchen to make the blessing in a dish.

I lounge lazily on the couch listening to my mother toss and turn and stir around the kitchen. I can’t stop thinking about Jace.

On some level I feel like he was telling the truth.

I had a weird dream about a dog poking at me with it’s nose.

Was that even a dream?

There is a knock on the door and I shouted my notice that I would answer the door.

I open it a crack.

“Oh my God…”

A grin so… messed up is aimed towards me and slight black eyes with a hint of red bore into my own bright blue ones.


It was him…Jace’s brother. I knew he was… different but not much so, or so…literal.

His grin only broadens with the panic I hadn’t even known was there nor did I know I was capable of producing.

He was so handsome in devilishly beautiful way: short Blonde hair spiked at the tips and a bit of stubble.

“What’s wrong? Am I not suiting your expectations?” he asked me with feigning his hurt feelings around his cheeks; very tall… lots of muscle.


“Dante?- yes I am. I see Jace has told you a little bit about me…” He cocks his head to the side…like a dog, his eyes roam over me, violating me with his gaze. His eyes grow darker and his grin falters as he steps into my house, backing me into the narrow hallway, before closing the door behind him. “What else did he tell you?”

Kin (short story)

The is a story I wrote for a contest recently. It is based on a song ‘s music video  “Devastator” by For Today. If you want to know if I captured in relatable contents to my story from the music video check it out for yourself and then decide.


 James is the only surviving brother after the end of the war in Vietnam. He finds himself unable to cope with his brothers’ death after forty years and hasn’t gone to his two brothers’ graves.  His son then persuades him to go and James reluctantly concurs. Through out his journey to the cemetery James begins to reminisce with himself about the memories he and his brothers shared together. Good and bad.

“No matter what happens, we are kin…andwe always will be.”

“No matter what.”

“Higher than brothers.”

“Higher than ourselves.”

“More than kin.”

“We are one.”


Dad, you need to do it.” my son says to me.

We are sitting out on our back porch, waiting on Mrs. McCabee to come home to me. The sun is shining today; beaming down on our heads in its haughty wrath. I love the sun but that joker makes a mess of my skin if I stay in it too long.

My son is twenty-five years old. A man in is prime. He is the oldest of three… boys: James Jr.; Victor who is twenty; and Thameson, he’s seventeen. I wanted the last one to have a more…creative name. But that boy is more ordinary than the sun itself.

Jr. (the one I am talking with) is my closest son. Almost… like a brother to me.

And that is exactly what we are talking about.

I… can’t, Jr., I can’t bring myself to go down there.” I say.

He looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and anger.

He sigh.

You’re not going to feel any better if you don’t go. Forget about what Granma and Granpa used to say. You know that none a those things were true. You deserve to be here. I’m happy you’re here-in fact- I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you. I could care less that those old folks didn’t want to see us. I don’t care, Dad. But. You. Need. To. Go.”

My hands are shaking- with age as well as nerves- because I am looking at my Jr. for the first time and seeing that he is no longer the little boy that used to play in the dirt but a man with so much more sense than his Pa that I could cry and have no problem with him seeing me.

I am so proud of him.

I shake my head.


No, not that,” I say, “do you know how proud I am?”

He smiles wearily at me.

Probably not. But!- your praise is not going to get you out of this.” he laughs.

I sigh and laugh a little myself because he is right.

Alright…” I say as I wipe those stubborn laughing tears away from my eyes. “

James’s face brightens and he clutches my shoulders firmly.

You are sure?” he ask.

I nod.

Do you want me to go with you?”

I think about it for a moment. It would be nice to have him along but this was something I had to do alone.

I grab his shoulder just as firmly before answering.

No, thank you, but… this is something I need to do on my own.”

He nods. His face is content but disappointed is clearly there.

You know I would love for you to come with me,” I say, “ but this has gone on for forty years. I have to go alone.”

He nods again, this time with more understanding in his eyes

You will call me if you can’t handle it.” he says. And it wasn’t a question.

I smile at him and clap him on the back.

Yes, Sir!” I laugh.


This is what men are supposed to do!” my father bellowed. I was nineteen at the time, my oldest brother, Scott, was twenty-two. And my youngest brother, Travis, was eighteen. We were all standing in front of our father listening toCaptain C. McCabee; veteran of world war 2, explain to us the importance of serving our country. “No sons a mine will sit around this house while there is a war going on!” We had been trying to avoid the subject for several years. It had been a few years into the Vietnam clash and at the time it seemed like it would last forever.

Pa, we could die,” said Scott as he rocked on his heels, “and you’d still have us running around out there?” Travis had been quiet the whole time and so pale mama had thought he had fallen ill. The truth was; he was afraid of Pa. So afraid he would try to do everything just right. Pa didn’t care how old we were, he’d beat us at thirty if he lived to see the day.

My Pa’s face had gone hard with anger.

You will go there,” Pa said, slowly enunciating each word, “you are gonna serve this country.”

But Scott didn’t hold back and nod like Travis would’ve done. No, Scott bared his teeth at our father and cursed him to his grave.

Pa looked at Scott with this look so horrible I was afraid he would kill his son.

Charles, I need to talk to you.” Mama said. I hadn’t even noticed she was in the room. I thought she had gone to fix supper.

Pa got up slowly and rammed his shoulder into Scott; scowling at him before he left the room with Mama.

You. Are. Crazy!” Travis hissed. He was shaking so hard I had to grab hold of his shoulder. He jumped a little before glancing to see that it was just me.

‘This boy is not going to last in the military.’ I thought.

Scott didn’t look at our brother, only at the swinging kitchen door Papa had just walked through.

I wanna kill him.” was his curt reply.

W-what?” I said. I wasn’t really surprised, just taken aback because he had the guts to say it out loud.

Hell maybe we all outta go up there,” Scott continued, “at least when we get back it would be an equal fight.” He scoffed and stomped out of the room.

“Jesus,”Travis whispered. He finally stopped shaking but he was still paler than snow. “Scott is losing it.”

I nod my head and take Travis by the wrist leading him to through the front door to find Scott. He was sitting in an old rocker our Granmama had given to us. She died some time ago but that rocking chair was still as sturdy as it was when it was new.

Scott,” I said leaning on the old white railing with my arms folded, “we all know he’s gonna make us sign up and go.”

I sighed, hating the realization in my words.

I continued.

I know… Scott?” I started feeling worried. Scared.

He looked up at me. He hadn’t really been looking at me while I was talking. Just gazing out at the hills and the sunset.

What if we don’t survive?” I asked

He shook his head.

No.” he said. “We will. We are brothers, James, we’re gonna protect each other no matter what.”

I heard they like to separate kin…” said Travis.

Where did you hear that from?” I asked.

He shrugged.

Bobby Jordan said his cousin and his brother signed up a few years ago. Said they separated them and and Bobby’s cousin’s brother died in combat.” he said quietly.

Bobby J also likes to make up stories, Travis,” Scott said, “I wouldn’t bet on that story being true. And even if it was?- I wouldn’t let them separate us.”

Travis relaxed finally, and little color returned to his cheeks.

I was about to tell Travis that I had gone to the brother’s funeral myself but Scott gave me the “Don’t you even think about it” look so I backed off.

I patted Travis on the back instead.

Boys! Suppers ready!” called Mama.

I glanced quickly at Scott and he gave me a hard look.

I shook my head slightly so that only he could see it and he raised his eyebrows at me.

He started to smile.

I didn’t.

Travis never saw our silent discussion. He was busy staring at the sunset just as Scott had been doing moments before.

I was worried about Scott; he’d been acting out with Pa and lying more often than Mama would’ve been happy with. She was one of those “True Christians”. The kind that judged everyone who didn’t believe what they believed.

I despised her more than Pa sometimes. I had seen her treat a gay couple as if they were walking shit. I had seen her treat a Negro woman like a disease.

‘Those times are over, Mama!’ I wanted to scream at her after witnessing that. I never had the gull to stand up to either one of my parents. I was ashamed of them, yes, but they were still my one way ticket to life.

But Scott- Scott was different now. Since the war started he could feel Pa’s eyes on us. He knew what he was thinking. He knew it was inevitable. Pa wouldn’t rest until he screamed “Cowards!” at us. And even that was unlikely to happen because Pa would’ve hated to announce that his seeds were cowards. That would’ve been the end of him.

I wouldn’t be surprised if that had been Scott’s plan.

Scott was clever like that.

We all walked into the kitchen to have our supper. Pa was sitting at the head of the table glaring at Scott. Mama was staring at Travis. She was just as worried as I had been.

We took our meal quietly. Careful not to make too much noise chewing or moving forks and spoons around.

Later that night Pa had us go to bed early.

Boys need to get up early and head down to the office,” he said, “see if they still taking some back up.”

I cringed when he clapped Travis on the back right before we went upstairs. It was loud and overbearingly enthusiastic.

Travis nearly fell over when the weight of his hand hit him.

Scott just kept walking, unfazed by the noise and what the clap meant.

When our door was closed Scott let us have it.

That sonofabitch!” he hissed. Throwing his shirt in the corner with vehemence.

Travis jumped. He hardly ever cursed himself and hearing it always made him start.

Keep it down!” I hissed at him, “I’m not in the mood for a beating tonight.”

He scoffed and shoved his way past me.

‘What is wrong with you?’ I silently asked.

And, as if he’d heard me, he looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes a little before shaking his head.

I’m sorry, Trav,” he said, “I’m just so sick of this war. I’m sick of Pa encouraging death! This is ridiculous! What if I don’t want to fight!

He’ll call you a coward-” Travis started

I don’t care!” Scott cut in, “I’d be a coward with a life!”

Travis shrugged in defeat and got himself ready for bed.

After Travis left I spoke up.

Stop yelling.” I quietly said.

He was about to protest but then just decided to sit down on his bed.

Why did you lie to him?”

Because if I didn’t he’d be scared to whole time. He’d probably die of a heart attack before we get there. You saw the look on his face. He is terrified. It’s bad enough Pa is making us go but the fact that he knows Trav is that scared- and still making him go? Why do you even wonder why I hate him so much?”

You can’t just lie to him like that, Scott. He would’ve gotten over it when we got there. As for Pa? You don’t hate him, don’t say that-”

I’ve always hated him!” he laughed, “You mean to tell me you didn’t notice? Wow- I’m a better actor than I thought if I fooled my own brother. You think Trav could tell?”

I just shook my head.

It’s not funny, Scott.”

What’s not funny?” Travis had come back from the bathroom. His face was swollen and pink.

He’d been crying.

That Pa fell down the porch step a few years ago,” I lied, “Scott still thinks it’s funny but I said it’s not since Pa gashed his leg open from that.”

Scott looked at as if to say “Who’s the liar now?” and quietly walked out of the bedroom to take his turn in the bathroom.

Travis looked at me skeptically.


I sighed.

I never liked lying. Especially to Travis. But it felt like he always knew when we were lying. He’d give us that look as if to say “I’m not stupid, I can see the truth in your eyes.” it was a scarey thought.

But Travis just kept on staring at me.

Jesus!- will you stop that.” I laughed

Tell me the truth, James.” he said quietly.

I had almost forgotten he was eighteen. Nearly a man and no longer a child.

Trav,” I said, “do you hate Pa?”

He cocked his head and looked off in deep thought.

Then he straightened himself and looked me straight in the eye.



Stupid question.

Don’t act like you don’t hate him too. I see the way you look at him. You look disgusted, sometimes downright hateful. You’re very bad at hiding your feelings, James.” he said with a bitter laugh. “Whatever though. He wants me to go to Vietnam?- I’ll go to Vietnam. It has to be better than staying here with them.”

He threw the towel he had hanging over his shoulders in the corner along with Scott’s shirt and blew out a heavy sigh.

Look at the bright side,” he said, “Scott gets to let out all that pent up anger.”

I was shocked.

I didn’t know he noticed Scott’s attitude.

But of course I’d been underestimating Travis for awhile now and it suddenly seemed a lot less surprising that he did know.


You’re sure you don’t want me to go?” my wife, Annalynne, says to me We have been married for twenty-seven year and I still love her to death. “It’s a long drive and we wouldn’t have to stop much if we took shifts.”

She is the sweetest woman I know. Always looking out for me; making sure I’m fed; loving me when I needed loving; cursing me out when I acted like a fool.

I love that woman more than anything but I can’t take her with me. I love her but I don’t want her to see me struggle with what I have to do. What I’ve been needing to do for forty years.

Yes, I’m sure.”

She frowns at me and takes my hand in hers.

You be strong for me, okay?”

I nod and kiss her forehead.

I pick up my bag and load it into my old friend Dellie. Dellie is my 86 Silverado. Got her a little before Jr. was born. This girl has gone through a lot with me; pot holes, broken fenders, thunder storms. I love this truck more than I’ll ever love any expensive sports car.

Be safe, James.” says Annalynne. Tears are gliding down her puffy red cheeks. I kiss her and hold her for a moment.

Where’s dad going?” I hear Thameson ask.

The grave yard.” Jr. whispers.

Oh… crap.” I hear Victor mutter.

I nearly laugh at them.

‘Am I really that bad?’ I laugh to myself.

I give each of my sons a long hug goodbye.

Be careful.” says Victor, clapping my back.

Be safe.” says Jr.

Be strong, okay?” says Thameson.

I look at him and see that worry is written all over his face.

‘How much do you know?’ I silently ask.

He blinks and I see his eyes start to well.

He is so much like Travis; so emotionally connected to his family. So smart.

I grab hold of him for another hug.

When did my sons get so grown?” I ask no one in particular.

Annalynne smiles but tries to cover it up with her fingers. I love when she does that yet I hate it because I can never see her smile. The tears are still there and I wish I could brush them off. But I know she wont let me. She loves her tears and she’d want to shed them for me.

I let go of Thameson and get into my truck.

I live in about eight hours away from DC and I have to trips: one at a warehouse to pick something up; the second at motel for sleep.

I drove down to the abandoned warehouse where my brothers and I would go to get away, share secrets, hide secrets. It was our sanctuary.

Two hours later I’m surprised to see the old building is still standing.

It has to be sixty years old now. Old brown bricks finely chipping away with age. Some of the windows were broken, gone, or just plain filthy.

But I love this building.

It holds all the secrets in my past. It holds my whole past. It holds my brothers’ past.

I rode the old elevator to the top floor; its old chains creaking with the weight of the metal box as it rose higher.


Hey! I found these bandanas on sale at that old Stop N Shop,” Scott said, “We can take em with us when we go in. They are red so we know who is a brother and who isn’t”

Aren’t we all supposed to be brothers?” I asked. I was sitting in an old plaid chair in the corner of the run down room on the top floor the abandon warehouse. “Military personnel and all? We have to treat them as brothers as well, right?”

Trav nodded in compliance while he sat on the floor fixing his uniform.

That doesn’t mean they are blood though, James.” Scott said a little too darkly.

I like them!” Travis burst out. He knew bad energy when it traveled the room. “It gives the three of us a personal-homey touch. And it would be nice to be able to separate my real brothers from strangers. Makes me feel better knowing we can tell each other apart.”

They would also make for fantastic targets as well.” I mutter. I never liked the idea of having red scarves hanging from our uniforms. They looked like some kind of betrayal to me.. and targets for the enemy.

What’s that, James?” Scott said with a mockishness to his tone.

I shrugged and played with my fingers.

He scoffed and tossed one of the scarves at me.

I’d love to wipe his filthy blood up with this thing one day.” He uttered. He was talking about Pa.

Travis stopped tempering with his uniform.

You may not get the chance to if God hears you say that again.” he said quietly.

God has nothing to do with my wishes.” Scott said. He tossed Travis his scarf. “He never listens to them anyway. Otherwise Pa would’ve been dead a long time ago.”

I hopped out of the chair and treadled over to the selfish bastard I called me brother.

I shoved him against the window.

You won’t get a chance to do SHIT if you die out there.” I spat at him. “You’ll never know… I may be the one to wipe you blood one day, Brother.”

He shoved me away.

And I stared at him for a moment before I left the building.


The elevator reaches the top floor and I walk out and head for the cupboard where most of our secret stashes had been kept. I open it and there they are. The red scarves Scott had bought for us. I burned my own a while back but I put theirs away in a place I knew where no one would find them. One of them was hard and dark from old blood.


The other was spotted lightly with hard spots of old blood.


I sniff away on coming sobs and tuck the scarves in my pocket.

I close the cabinet and head back to the elevator. It rumbles and shakes on its way down but I don’t care. I wouldn’t even care if it fell and killed me. But I can’t think like that. No man can think like that when they have a family at home they love so much as I do. My heart aches when I think of things like that. Death and suicide. I’m too old to be thinking about that nonsense. Sixty-six years old. If I wanted to do it I would’ve done it when I was relieved. Not after I made a family.

The elevator is down and I stride back over to my car. Dellie sits there in the hot sun waiting patiently for me to drive when I’m ready. I stick the key in the ignition and continue on towards DC cemetery.


Move! Take some damn cover, marines!” Captain Gain shouted at us. “Jesus they gave me all the idiots!”

We were being shot at by men I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t bring myself to move or shoot. But Scott seemed to be having a field day.

He was shouting and cursing and hooting and hollering and gloating. He was having too much fun murdering Man.

Travis would stick with me and only shoot when necessary. He protected me. Which shocked me at first because Scott and I had been worried that we wouldn’t be able to even get him on the plane. He was brave though. Braver than Scott. Unlike Scott Travis didn’t enjoy murdering people. He made sure every man he shot moved on with his eyes closed.

I don’t want there spirits floating around preying for revenge.” He’d told me.

I had only shot a few men and with each one it took me a long time before I was able to shoot another. Even longer a time before I didn’t care anymore. Unfortunately that time didn’t come until after I shot a little girl in the head. Because we were told to eliminate all civilians in the village. I cried that nigh in our camping barracks, silently but the tears were there. Travis saw me shoot the girl and made me go back with him to close her eyes. He sat on the edge of my bed with his hand on my shoulder trying to calm me and barely succeeding. I felt like a coward for shooting her. But she would’ve been killed anyway. There were too many brothers covering the area for her to escape.

I grew used to it though. Killing innocence; planting bombs; signaling air strikes. I grew to become more and more like Scott. And that scared me more than being shot at. All those years we were there with short vacations that we never used to visit home and then we would have to go right back and be the murders we pretended not to be.

We were in a jungle at one point. A very random place for an area that was mostly city and desert. But we were there. It was hard to see around the leaves and the trees. We were looking for a campsite that held some kind of nuke or an airstrike. I don’t remember. I only remember what happened in the process.

Travis was leading our group, he had been promoted to Sergeant not too long before our mission so he too Captain Gain’s place while Gain led a special task force. Why they didn’t have the honor of pursuing this quest was beyond me and still is.

The campsite was guarded by a large tan brick wall. We heard distant voices and assumed they were in the tents so we moved up a little faster. Never assume anything in the middle of a battle field. Especially when it’s quiet and empty. Travis let a lower rank check the corner before we moved in to the base. The marine was shot in the chest by I Vietnamese man with large shot gun. Travis shouted to everyone to open fire and we did.

The man shot Travis in the throat before another marine got him in the head.

It felt like time slowed down when I saw Travis falling to the ground, blood pouring out of his neck and his eyes rolling back into his head. He fell to the ground with a wet splat.

Keep moving, McGee!” Shouted another marine. He got my name wrong but I knew he was yelling at me.

I stepped over my brother’s body and helped clear the base. When it was clear and me succeeded I ran back to Travis. He was already dead though. I don’t know why I expected him to be laying there smiling up at me. His neck was practically hanging on by a thread attached to his body. I screeched something horrible right then. Another marine, Private Thomas, ran to me.

Oh…” was all he could say and then he backed away. I know I had to move, we were lying in the open in front of the hole in the wall. I knew I would’ve been an easy target. But I didn’t care. I took my time. His eyes were wide open so I closed them. We killed the man that killed him so there was no need for further revenge. I took the the red scarf off of his belt loop and held it to his neck. A reminder that this is his blood on his scarf, that his his own blood was shed during this ridiculous battle. I put the scarf in my pocket and got back to my feet- face stoic and ready to get back to work.

Travis L. McCabee





I made it there in a blink of an eye it seems. I hadn’t expected the cemetery to be so big, and full. I wonder around the tombstones looking for his name. It looks like it’s not in any particular order so I really have to hunt for it.

I should have gone to the funeral when I had the chance.

I couldn’tbring myself to go though. Not to his funeral. Not to either one of their funerals. I didn’t want to be the last brother standing. The one that others would pity and probably shame for not committing suicide like a normal survivor.

That never made sense to me; why suicide was the answer to all the former military man’s anguish.

Why not love?

Why not peace?

We killed for seven years. Heartless bloodshed and murder. Killing children and women. I was glad to be released. I would’ve shot myself if they had kept me for the remaining years.

I scour the field with heartfelt determination. I’m not leaving until I find their graves. I owe them that much. In some ways I felt like Travis died for me. As if he steppe in front of the gun to protect me. And maybe he did. But I know he was protecting everyone, he treating everyone like his brother. He protected them just as much as he protected me. He never even bothered Scott almost as if he wanted him to get shot but I knew that wasn’t the case either, he just knew that Scott could take care of himself. At least for that time being.

Scott lasted as long as I thought he would, but he died in a way the surprised me. I thought there would be a lot more blood.

I don’t remember where he was when Travis was killed. Probably somewhere miles away shooting random villagers. He liked that part for some reason. Maybe because whenever he shot an older man he felt like he was shooting Pa. The smile on his face proved that much.

I nearly trip over his grave, Travis’s. I was so caught up in my head that I stopped looking. But here it is.

Sergeant Travis L. McCabee

Soldier, brother, beloved son, and honored war hero.

KIA, Vietnam, 1970

I have never seen a tombstone look so wrong in my life, but I sat his scarf in front of the stone and placed a large rock on top of it.

I say the words of our prayer; voiced aloud for the wind to hear me, for my brother to hear me:

“No matter what happens, we are kin…we always will be.”

“No matter what.”

“God cannot separate us”

“He cannot destroy this bond.”

“He cannot taint our blood with evil.”

“Kill our song.”

“We cut the palms of our brothers hood.

“Press them together…”

“Face to Face.”

“We bellow the words so that you can here.”

“We are higher than brothers.”

“Higher than kin.”

“Higher than ourselves.”

“More than kin.”

“We are one.”

“Until the end…”

I open my eyes to find my vision blurry and burning. I’m crying, for the first time in twenty years I shed more tears for my little brother Travis.

I get up off the ground with little difficulty and start for the next grave.


It had been several days before I saw Scott again. I hated that I had to wait so long to tell him. I begged the tellers not to send word to Scott because I wanted to tell him myself in, in person. It felt like years had passed instead of days. When I saw him he was… bigger. He carried an M16 on his shoulder and walked with the air of proud man.

It took all that I had to keep myself from gagging.

I was surprised he couldn’t see the wariness in my face. The tightness of my lips, the tensity in my shoulders. He just smiled and grabbed me up in an aggressive bear hug.

He slapped my back with a heavy hand.

“What’s up, Brotha!” he said so loudly I was pretty sure he’d been drinking.

‘Great!- the day I tell my older brother that his youngest brother is dead it has to be a day when he is stoned!’ I thought.

“We need to talk,” I said, he tried to protest but I already had him by the elbow and dragged him to an empty barrack.

He yanked his elbow out of my hand.

“What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Shut up for a second.” I said plainly, “I need a minute.”

Scott let out a long sigh before settling himself on a bed.

I glared at him for a moment. Looking in his eyes to see if he knew. He looked at me in a way that said “What do you want weirdo?” and crossed his arms.

He really didn’t know. Which was good that meant the tellers hadn’t given him the message.

But it irritated me that he couldn’t tell that something is wrong.

‘Had it really been so long that he couldn’t read me anymore?- feel the loss of a close kin?’ I thought.

“Travis.” was all I said and I saw Scott’s face turn a deadly white.

Then he turned red.

“You don’t know that.” he muttered so quietly I hardly heard him. “He could be MIA.”

“I was there, Scott.”

He jumped off the bed and got in my face.

“You LIE!” he spat at me.

“Why would I lie about this?” I was so calm I knew it bothered him.

“You were supposed to protect him! Why did you let that happen? You know he was scared to even come here and you leave him for those assholes? What the fuck is wrong with your stupid little head! Why did you let that happen? Why did you let it?”

He kept asking that question but more to himself than to me.

He started to cry and dropped to his knees.

I can’t talk to Scott while he cries. We both (Travis and I) knew that nothing got through to him when he was upset. So got down on my knees and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I let his tears fall on my should. Staining that one spot on my right shoulder permanently with salty water.

It took him awhile to get himself together. I had to wave a few of our brothers away, they knew what was happening and understood. They left us alone and guarded the door.

When Scott finally got himself together he took out his scarf and cleaned his face. There were still stains on his face but I didn’t bother to tell him that.

He’d wash his face later anyway.

He looked up at me his eyes were red and puffy and his face was also red. The green of his eyes looked like bleeding grass.

I let him go and he slouched against a bed.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He was shot in the throat, with a shot gun.” I said matter-of-factually.

He shook his head.

“Where were you?”

“I was several feet behind him.”

“Why weren’t you next to him?”

“I didn’t need to be.”

“Apparently you did because he dead now!” he scowled at me.

“Don’t put this burden on my shoulders.”

“It’s your fault.”

“He didn’t need me to protect him!”

“Yes he did! He was scared-”

“He was never scared! He protected me and a whole platoon! He was a freaking leader, Scott!”

“Who the Hell gave him that job?” he said in a voice so high I laughed.

“I have no idea.” I laughed.

“This isn’t funny.”

“No. But it is ironic.”

He thought about it for a moment.

“We-we should probably stop estimating people’s abilities.” he said quietly.

I started laughing so hard I cried and Scott laughed right along with me. We looked like two fools laughing at something no one else would understand. But to me it felt like we were young again. When we used to make various unstable forts and challenge each other with who could tell the grossest ghost stories in the middle of the night. Hiding in the fields when Pa was in a bad mood. Talking about how ridiculous the girls were in our high school. We even dared Scott to date a girl named Tabitha Tabbs. They only dated for a week because Tabitha claimed Scott was a pervert. Scott was grounded for a month but we still had fun with him; made jokes, shared stories about our own personal experiences.

It felt like we were home again.

I told Scott everything Travis did for us, about the way he treated the dead, what he did for me after I shot a little girl.

Scott listened to all of my tales in silence and with a small smirk on his face occasionally.

“Alright so he had spunk, I get it.” he laughed.

I nod in agreement.

There was a loud knock on the door.

“Get up! It’s time to move out!” said a booming voice.

We stared at each other for a moment. We knew we were going to be separated again. Scott fought on another level and for different reasons. He had been moved up early and so we hardly ever had missions together.

We said our fair wells and until next times and left the barracks as if nothing valuable had passed.

Back to work.

Back to murder.


It is getting late, sunset isn’t too far off and I suddenly wish that I had brought one of my sons with me. I’m starting to feel the ache of loneliness that I had predicted might come if I came here alone. I thought I was prepared for it but I can hardly say that I am. My feet and back are aching and I’m sweating like a man hard at work. I brought a bottle of water with me but it is about half empty now.

I start to think about the moment I came home, after I served my time.

My parents were notified about my brothers’ deaths. They were disappointed that neither of the deaths were mine. I was nothing to them my whole life; like dust in the crannies of corners. My mother cried and cursed Jesus while my Pa yelled at me and blamed me for their sons’ demise. I took it all in calmly before I spat the truth at them. I told Pa about how much Scott and Travis hated him; about how Scott even planned on killing him when he got back. I told Ma that I despised her just as much as Travis despised Pa. I told them I didn’t give a shit about what they thought about me and that I tried me best to serve this damn country.

Pa had hit me so hard I fell and Ma screamed at me to never bring my useless ass back to their property again. Pa said that if I did they would shoot me dead and let the crows have me afterwords. They said all of that to me while I was down. After I left them I kept telling myself that they were just upset and that they handled grief differently. I did too. But when I went back a few weeks later Pa aimed a rifle at me. I hadn’t recognized him with that weapon in his hands, aimed at me. I thought he was a stranger who wanted me off his land. I was wrong. It was Pa and Ma was right behind him yelling at me and flipping filthy gestures. I held my hands high in surrender and left their property for good.

I haven’t been back there since. I sent them letters telling them that they have grandchildren but they never wrote me back. But I kept at it.


A year after Travis’s death Scott and I finally had a task together. It was a seemingly simple task all we had to do was clear out a warehouse the enemy was using as a sniping tower. Scott was back to his usual cocky trigger happy self and I was just…me. It still hurt to kill but I had gotten so used to it that I did it automatically. Like blinking.

The building was fairly empty save the six guys we eliminated on the first through third floors. There were eight floors. We took our time, acting silently and stealthy. Scott looked like a born hunter the way he moved was too graceful for a man who had to have training. He was so quiet that if I fell behind I would have a hard time finding him again. But of course all I had to do was follow the bodies. He was ahead of me by a floor. I lagged behind to watch our backs. My heart was pounding the whole time. I was expecting someone to jump out and blow my head off.

When I finally made it to the top floor with Scott he held up his left hand signaling me to stop. There was a man at the window with a sniper in his hands. Scott was observing him; sensing his senses. The man was leaning on his left leg so that told him that his left side was dominate. He could hear better with his left side.

Scott approached the man almost casually and made a quick pst sound before he smashed the guys skull in and shot him in the head.

Again tried not to gag.

My brother was murder machine. Cold and skillful.

He leaned out the window to check the rest of the area and suddenly his head lurched all the way back and he felt to the floor with sickening thud.

My mouth fell open and I nearly fell to the floor.

I rushed over to my brother as quietly as I could crouching so that whoever shot him wouldn’t shoot me too. But when I got him I saw that there was a hole in his forehead that obviously went through is skull and out the back.

A silent rifle.

I radioed my Captain and explained to him what happened.

“Christ- have you people ever heard of duck and cover?”

“JUST SEND US SOME FUCKING HELP!” I couldn’t yell but my voice cracked when I said that.

He said he was sending help right away.

Three other men were shot down by the same silent rifle. There were only four when they made it to the top floor. They froze when they saw who it was that I was holding in my arms.

Private Kennedy was the one that shot down the rifler and called in a pick up for us.

I thanked him and he nodded. I saw the pity in his eyes, I knew it was in every single one of heir eyes so I didn’t look at either one of them.

I let them carry my brother out in a body bag and place it in the helicopter.

I had taken his scarf before they got to us. I dabbed at the tendrils of blood that glided down his wound. I put it in my pocket it and walked away with my brothers.

I had no more kin. But I still had my brothers.


I found Scott’s grave under a young elk tree. It read only:


Scott K. McCabee

Honored war hero

KIA, Vietnam, 1971

My parents must not have gone to his funeral to arrange for the words to be put on his stone.

I sigh and place the scarf in front of his stone not unlike I did with Travis’s except I didn’t say the prayer.

Instead I say “I told you so” and pat his grave soil. “Pa would’ve been proud though, right?”

I laugh bitterly and walk back to Dellie.

The stars are out thought it’s not quite dark yet. A gentle breeze is gliding through the air, kissing my cheeks and flailing my beard. I spread my arms and embrace the wind letting tears fall free from their cage.

I have done it.

After forty years I have finally come to my brothers’ graves.

And survived. Just like I survived when I was in there.

I hop inside my trunk and make my way back home feeling content and happy. I felt joy that I thought I could only feel when my sons were born.

When I finally reach home it is Wednesday afternoon and my son, Thameson, is sitting on the porch with a letter in his hands.

I get out of my truck and walk over to him. He gets up by stays where he is.

“This came for you yesterday,” he says, “says its from a Mrs. Talia McCabee. That’s Granma’s name, right?”

I gently take the letter from his hands.

I wonder why she hadn’t just called or emailed.

Just like the old fashioned hag I knew before. Ninety-three years old and still doesn’t want to use a computer.

I shake my head.

“Yep… that would be her.”

“You want me to read it?”

“No, I don’t mind,” I say, “who knows it might be an apology.”

Thameson feels the bitterness in my tone and scrunches up his face.

“How did it go?” he asks instead.

I smile.

“I feel better for going, at ease in a way. Content. Happy.”

He places his hand gently on my shoulder.

So much like Travis is he.

He smiles at me.

“You did an amazing thing,” he says, “I’m proud of you and so is everyone else. They are out getting you a congratulations cake.”

We laugh at this and shake our heads.

“Really? That wasn’t supposed to be a secret now was it?”

He blushes and shrugs.

I shake my head and let out a short laugh.

“Go ahead and unload my bag, I want to read this.”

“Sure.” he says and gives me a quick hug.

I sit on the step and open the letter.

Its script is written in delicate curly hand but fairly large print all the same.

This was definitely hand written by my mother.


I know it has been a long long time since we’ve spoken and I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to ball up this letter and burn it but I have to tell you. It’s only right and you deserve to know. Your father passed away a few days ago. Died in his sleep. I woke with a dead man in my bed, James. Do you know how scary that is?

Anyway, I’m writing to let you know there’s going to be a service for him this weekend 10 o’clock on the dot. I would love to see those kids of yours. Though I’m sure they are practically grown men by now. I know you must think I’m an awful woman and I don’t blame you in the least but please come to the service. I need you there. I need the family.

I know it was wrong for us to treat you the way we did and I know these sound like empty words to you but I truly do mean it. I am so sorry!

I hate that your father’s death brought me to writing this so so much. I know I wouldn’t even try to get in touch with you if he were still here now (well at least she’s honest) but I need you hear with me. I don’t want to be alone.

Please think about it.

With all my love


I ball up the piece of paper and toss it to the side. Not out of hate but just because. I wondered if Pa would’ve reached out to me like she had if she had been the one to die instead.

Probably not but a guy can dream.

I laugh under my breath and shake my head. Thameson is on his way up the walkway with my bag and my keys.

“What’s it say?” he asks.

I smile at him.

“You wanna meet your Granma?”