Meetings in The Dark…a puzzling lead.

Kyra jumped out of the car and grabbed Maggie’s arm. “Tom is not dead.”

Maggie jerked out of Kyra’s grip and spun around. “Don’t touch me,” she shouted holding her head, breathing hard. “What is wrong with you?”

“He’s not dead.” Kyra’s hands went up in truce. “Trust me. Please,” she begged. She never begged for anything before. Not even when she kneeled before Her and waited for the divine gavel to come down and crack open her head.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.” Red faced, she jabbed a finger at the warehouse door. “I’m going in there and doing my job.”  

“You’re going in there to punish them, but you don’t need to kill them. Your life’s not over.”

“My brother’s dead and my only job now his to avenge his death. That’s it.” She stormed away.

Kyra risked losing a limb by moving into the path of the raging woman, but she couldn’t let Maggie ruin her life over three stupid thugs that were obviously pawns. “You know I’m telling you the truth. You’re fighting me because you want to hurt someone. Make them hurt as much as you hurt right now.”

The sparking glow changed, lessening the heat burning in Maggie’s eyes.

“How the hell do you know?”

“Call the hospital,” Kyra said.

Maggie stared at her. Skepticism smoothing the frown lines of anger and challenging the predator inside. She grabbed the phone from her pocket and punched in the number for the hospital. “This is detective Styles. I want to know the status of my brother Thomas Styles.” She waited staring daggers into Kyra’s eyes and then within a blink her posture changed. Disbelief spread across her features. “Thank you,” she whispered and put the phone back in her pocket.

“How the—”

“Someone wants to discredit you. Has to be someone who knows that your brother’s death will destroy you. You have to be careful. You can’t trust anyone close to you.”

Maggie walked away and toward the warehouse door. “Whoever did this will pay.” She disappeared inside.

“I don’t doubt it,” Kyra said to no one and then followed her in.


The three men were each seated on chairs with no arms, their wrists bound behind them. Two of them were fully conscious, the third’s head lolled to the side as he tried to wake up. Maggie walked over to him and slapped him hard in the face.

“Wake up, ass-wipe,” she shouted. The dominant roar in her tone reverberated around the room.

 The thug groaned, his eyelids fluttering open then closing almost immediately after. The other two men watched Maggie, the larger thug visibly shaking as his eyes followed her pacing back and forth in front of them.

Maggie remained silent allowing her body language to speak for her. Kyra watched in anticipation. Maggie’s power shimmered along her skin and for once Kyra was glad she wasn’t human. Though some humans could see auras, Kyra saw more, a whole lot more. A good soul when unmotivated became the color of smoldering ash as its fleshy vessel neared the end of its lifetime only to return in a different body to face the challenges ignored previously. A soul that accepted each challenge, victorious or not, glowed, shimmered and sparkled because failing or not it succeeded.

A soul brought down by corruption bled the color of rust and was met with more difficult challenges in its next life. A soul reborn into this realm was at its most brilliant in ever changing colors.  At death Kyra new what type of life the human had lived just by its hue. Maggie’s aura glowed with the color of rage and heat. Flames licked the air around her. Every decision she contemplated adding or depleting its intensity.

Maggie shot a glare at Kyra and clenched her teeth before striding up to the large thug quaking in his boots, grabbing his hair, wrenching his neck back and pressing the nozzle of her revolver under his jaw.


“W-what do you want me to say?” he stammered, sweat dripping off his brow.

“You assaulted a man three days ago. I want to know why,” she sneered, her finger playing over the trigger.

The thin conscious man bound to his left shouted. “We were paid to do it.”

Maggie looked calm. Too calm. Kyra stepped closer to the thug that spoke. “By whom,” she asked.

“T-The owner of the club. Got paid a grand each. That’s all we know. I swear.”

Maggie back-handed him so fast in his face, blood spattered on the wall to his left.

Spittle dripped from the corner of the large thug’s mouth. “We liked Tommy. We didn’t hurt him that bad. We even told him about it. Gave him a percentage for a gift for his girl.”

Maggie stepped back.

“Why’d you jump me?” Kyra asked.

“We were just supposed to scare you, make you stop asking questions.” He lowered his brown eyes to the floor when Kyra came around to gaze into them.

“Who told you to scare me?”

“Mr. Pete. He owns the joint. He doesn’t like people coming around that he doesn’t know. Or…have people related to cops working for him. He said that one corrupt pig as enough for him.

Kyra and Maggie simultaneously looked at one another. “Finally, the first piece of the puzzle is revealed,” Maggie said.

Who are you? What do you like? Are you kind to others? Do you help humanity progress? Do you feel love in your bones? Would you give your last dollar to help a stranger? Would you die for your country? Would you die for your children? Do you smile to lift someone’s spirits? Do you listen to tears? Hear anguish? Does your heart drop when someone gets hurt? Do you feel loss when someone dies?

 Do you stay calm during an emergency and then break down when you are alone? Does thunder scare you? Are you afraid of the dark? Does the night calm you? Does the ocean give you new perspective to where you rank in the world? Does it hurt when you fall down? Are your tears clear? Does a passionate kiss make you sizzle? Is your partner your complimentary half? Do you view life as a challenge?

Do you get angry at incompetent drivers? Does your face turn beat red when you are embarrassed? Do you have secrets you keep to protect yourself? Do you lie? Do you swear? Do you speak at all? Can you hear the wind, the rain, a crying baby? Do you like board games? Are you a bad winner? Do you walk around obstacles or puzzle out how to get through them? Is there a fruit you do not like? Is reading part of your routine?

Are you afraid for the future? Can you be yourself around others who cannot?

If you answered yes to any of these you are a flesh and blood, individual human who has a right to be?

Now if I ask you, does being gay make you different? What is your answer? And why did you have to think about it?

I’m a happily married woman with three kids. I am bisexual. I adore my husband. I fell in love with his soul and never looked back. If this soul was in a woman’s body, I would feel the same way and I know there is nothing wrong with me? How about you?

Ever get stuck in a cognitive holding pattern? You don’t want to think, you just want to do? I have. Many times in the last forty-five years, I’ve taken a step sideways from the present and put my movements and responses on autopilot. Usually before or after a possible life changing event I would just stop. Stop thinking linearly, stop communicating with others and get frustrated when people try to converse with me.  I’ll go about my day running on muscle memory.  I know what have to do, what needs to be done and I do it automatically all the while pondering how to control the new path my life will take. Sometimes it feels like I’ve locked myself in a glass suit. The outside world becomes a gigantic fun house where everywhere you look, you’re faced with that life changing event and there’s no escape until the event is actually upon you.

Solution: I have no idea. The progress I’ve made has to do with timing. I used to start this process many weeks prior to an event. Now I’m down to a day or two. Maybe because I’ve relinquished control over things I can’t change or perhaps I’ve been subdued, forced to face my own humanity and its limits.

I’d love to know your thoughts.  

Please be patient. I’m working on a twist and this time I’m going to put it through my edit polish before posting. Thank you.

Littlemissdarkness….Follow me into the beauty of Dark..

Littlemissdarkness is not dark or depressing.

A guide into things that aren’t easy to see or understand.

Step into the dark and let me show you what you Can’t see.

There is more to us than the sometimes unbearable darkness. Reach out to find what is not always seen. Beauty isn’t always fed by light. Sometimes beauty is the dark. Faith and love are two powerful entities that can only be felt.