Posts Tagged ‘story’

The neighborhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, has come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

I’ve never been inside her home and I’ve rarely seen her outside. The bushes are overgrown and the weeds have taken over, what must have once been a pretty flower garden. Mr. Pauley used to do all of the gardening. He never got angry when I asked him questions about why he did this or that with his plants.

The landlord is tramping all over the weeds. He looks like a mean man and I feel sorry for Mrs. Pauley even though I don’t know her well. My mom said she is an agoraphobic. That means Mrs. Pauley is afraid of leaving her house. I wonder how they will get her out. The police keep trying to calm down the angry man holding a large hammer in his hand. One policeman takes it away and the man gets angrier.

I see Mrs. Pauley peek out from her curtains. Just one eye and her nose come through between the folds in the fabric. That one eye looks terrified. My mom told me not to interfere, that she would try to get in touch with one of her children. Didn’t they know she was in trouble? I would know if my mom was in trouble. And if she was, I would help her.

My front door creaks behind me. I see my mom staring across the street and she is talking to someone on the phone. She doesn’t sound happy. She’s using her angry tone which means someone is being unreasonable. Usually that someone is me or dad, but not this time. I hear the phone slam down on a table and my mother utters the word stupid. She never says things like that. She’s told me time and time again never to call anyone stupid. You can call a car stupid or a chair, but not another person. She must be very angry.

The door opens behind me and my mother comes out of the house and stomps around me. I stand up from my perch on the brick step, but she waves me to sit back down. She jogs to the police across the street and starts talking to them. I can’t hear what they are saying but both policemen nod and one goes back to the police car.

The angry runs over to my mom and starts yelling at her. I can’t help but stand up and start walking to the sidewalk, but I stop in the middle of my lawn when I hear sirens approaching. That’s when I notice that half of the block is out on their porch watching the drama unfold.

I return to my spot on the porch.

The ambulance pulls up near Mrs. Pauley’s house and a man and woman get out of it. My mom and the police officer talk to them. I guess they’re making a plan on how to get her out of the house. Suddenly there is shouting coming from the large window of Mrs. Pauley’s home. She is yelling at everyone to leave, to get off her property.

The angry man strides forward toward the front door but the other policeman steps in front of him. Now Mrs. Pauley and the angry man are shouting at each other through the window.

I wish my mom didn’t go over there. I don’t like that man. I wish daddy was home; his voice is louder than mom’s even though mom’s angry stare is scarier. Between the both of them, the angry man wouldn’t stand a chance.

Suddenly blue station wagon comes to a screeching halt in front of the ambulance. A pile of suitcases are strapped to the top and a tall man wearing beach clothes jumps out of the car. A petite pretty woman gets out of the passenger seat. The tall man looks just like Mr. Pauley only lots of years younger. The shouting stops and my mom smiles at the young man. While the tall Mr. Pauley look-a-like walks over to the now not-so-angry man the petite woman goes inside the house.

The EMTs go inside with the petite woman and then, after speaking with the angry landlord, the tall man shakes my mom’s hand then goes inside the house. The door shuts and all the neighbors return to whatever it was they were doing before.

My mom comes back across the street and holds out her hand. I hold her hand and we walk into the house. Over two ice cream sundaes, my mom told me that that was Mrs. Pauley’s son who drove like mad, from where he was vacationing, as soon as he found out what was going to happen to his mother.  My mom said Mrs. Pauley would live with him from now on and she wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Right there and then I vowed, that when I was old enough, I would take care of my parents.

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.

Meetings in the dark….Kyra

Posted: December 6, 2013 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

Maggie sat in her car watching Kyra and her colleagues move through the shadows carrying the men into an abandoned warehouse. Every so often Kyra caught Maggie’s eye and Maggie always turned away first. A battle was going on in the detective’s mind. Maggie could see the tension lines between her eyes. She wasn’t having trouble with what would happen inside the warehouse, Maggie, she knew, looked forward to dishing-up some justice for her brother. So what troubled her?

As turned to leave her people to prepare the men for a conversation, Stan grabbed her elbow and pulled her aside. “This will not end well. They know who she is,” he said.

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “I have a plan. And when did you grow a conscience?”

“Kyra, you’re getting in too deep.” He snapped. “I don’t care about those thugs or the fucked up cop. I care about you.”

She laughed sadly. “There’s nothing more than a job between us, Stan. When this is over…it’s over. Happy now?” She turned to leave.

He stepped in her way. “Not really. I don’t believe you.”

“Well then you’re going to have to trust me.” She hated that he was closer to right than he knew.  Hated herself for dropping her guard for Maggie. But she looked on the bright side; maybe this was the case that ended her misery.

“Get them ready. We’ll be in, in ten minutes,” She wouldn’t allow him to get in her way again.


Kyra got into the passenger seat without looking at Maggie. “You ready for this,” she said.

“Yes.” Maggie said, distractedly.

Kyra took a long breath before looking at Maggie. “There’s no going back.”

“I hadn’t planned on it. I’m living moment to moment.”

Maggie’s tone broke her self-preservation rule and once again Maggie had gotten inside her head. “What’s happened?”

“I just got the call. My brother died an hour ago.”


That is the day I realized I was different from everyone else. I remember sitting on the merry-go-round across the street in daycare wondering why me? I spent a lot of time on the broken ride watching the other kids run around playing tag, kick ball, trying to make hoops in the too high basket. They didn’t want to play with me anymore. A month ago, by accident, I let my secret out. I didn’t mean to. Mommy said that there are others out there like me, but not to tell my friends because they wouldn’t understand. Why would my friends abandon me for something that I didn’t have any control over? It didn’t make any sense. I stuck by Tommy when he sneezed in the library and got snot on his book and everyone called him snotty Tommy for a week.

Okay so this is what happened. Me, Tommy and Annabel were playing hopscotch. Katie and Greg were yelling at each about the rules to a game they’d made up. They always make up games and they always spend most of playground time fighting about the rules. Billy as usual swung high on a swing. Raymond and Mark were teeter-tottering.    

I threw the rock into square three and was about to hop into one when Cornelius appeared. I mean literally… appeared.  He’d been appearing to me for as long as I can remember. This wasn’t a normal visit. Cornelius looked very upset. He kept pointing at Billy. I saw a terrible sight in my head and started screaming. I yelled at Billy to get off the swing and go inside. I screamed at everyone to go inside. Ms. Cane stomped toward me. She would take me inside and Billy would get hurt, really hurt or die. I ran to Billy’s favorite action figure leaning against the fence, grabbed it and ran toward the door. Billy jumped off the swing and ran after me. All the other kids and teachers ran after me, following me into the cafeteria. That’s when the big boom came. A loud crashing sound that hurt my ears. Everyone froze. I ran to the window and saw a car on fire with part of the swing set inside the front window. Cornelius Appeared again, just outside the window I glared out from. He looked so happy, jumping up and down clapping his hands doing our funny dance. I laughed and starting dancing along with him. That’s when everyone tore their eyes away from the sounds of glass breaking outside to gape at me. “Cornelius saved Billy’s life,” I blurted out.   

Ms. Cane ushered us into another room, further from the playground. Sirens drowned out the roar of fire. Ms. Cane pulled me aside and asked me who Cornelius was. I told her he was my imaginary friend. I also said that he showed me what would’ve happened if I didn’t get Billy off the swing set. Mark called out to the others that I had an imaginary friend and all the kids started to laugh. Ms. Cane shushed him.

But it was too late.

Now a month later no one would talk to me. They weren’t mean or anything. They just wouldn’t talk to me. Cornelius looked down on me from the window. He was sad, too. I started decided to count the bricks on the building across the street when a shadow crossed my view. Billy stood over me and then sat in front of Jiminy Cricket and handed me an Oreo cookie.  I looked at the cookie. I looked at him and then I looked at the others playing. He took a bite of his cookie and said, “Thank you for saving my life, Mary.”

I said all I could say. “You’re welcome.”