The winter of 1970 in the Bay Area was not something I ever expected to experience- especially since I was born in 1990. My folks scolded me every night for sneaking into the backyard whenever there was a full moon. It wasn't my fault: grandpa planted the story about the time-well in my head and it sprouted into a maddening obsession.
My hair was now curly instead of wavy and my hands reverted into the pudgy state of toddlerhood. Who was I, in this time, and why was I only a spectator? My new parents talked about the lunar landing...
"Constellation of freckles."
I made a face. "Oh, that's going on the list."
She nodded with a degree of authority - she hadn't needed me to tell her it belonged on our list of paticularly purple prose, our list of phrases that were to be avoided at all costs.
"Can you even get a constellation of freckles?"
"Well, of course you can, it's an arrangement - it's the implication I resent. That freckles are like stars - who'd have starry freckles? You can't wish on a freckle."
"You could. I think that could be quite a romantic scene."
"Depends on...
He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet.
"What's wrong?!" she asked him.
He ducked into a side room away from the windows in the door. "The police are looking for me. They think I killed someone," he said.
"Oh my god! Why do they think that?"
"I don't know, but I didn't do anything."
"What happened?"
"I was our for a walk when the storm started, and I knocked on the door of the nearest house where I saw lights on. There was no answer, so I opened the door to see if anyone...
"Because the game is all that matters, Father."
"I like to think it is my company that matters, my child."
A fire could be seen blazing in her eyes. He knew not to call her that. He knew better.
"I am not your child."
"All of you are, Lucifer, but your pride always stopped you from seeing that."
"My pride? It was my pride?"
The old man shook his head in affirmation.
"Father, your pride is what caste us from this place. You wanted to make room for these beings. So they could do what? Slaughter each other? Care only...
"Yes, I know that she murdered someone. A terrible accident, if I do recall."
"An accident? She killed her husband when she was 25 because he was fucking his secretary. Remember."
"I do remember, but she repented and now is attempting to live a peaceful life. Can't she have that?"
"Why do you love them so much? They are disgusting, and I hate being here. The only we reason we had to leave was because you loved them more."
The earth shook for an instant, as the old man moved his king.
"Lucifer, I will not have you speak about...
"Hello Father," she said.
"Ah, my child, I apologize for being late. I was walking around this glorious park. Did you get a chance to see the green trees and all the life that is budding from them? It is truly beautiful here."
"Yes, quite."
"I like you new look. It fits you, of course I liked the way presented yourself before. However, the all black is bit much, my child."
"Always the judge. Am I right?"
He laughed to himself.
"How easily I forget your cunning humor."
A full set sit in front of them. And while she wore...
The old man walked through a park. His suit was great, with a white shirt underneath and a grey tie. Meandering, he strolled along the walk way, no intention to end up anywhere.
He appeared to be in his 70s, although, the hazards of age seemed unnoticeable in his demeanor. He didn't shuffle, he wasn't hunched over and his head did not hang.
He glanced at his watch.
"Dear me, I am going to be late."
His meandering stopped and his direction became purposeful. His gait was long and graceful. Men his age should not cover this much distance.
Rounding...
Until now, she'd never thought of herself as pretty. And it was very hard for her to. What, with her being overweight. To people of this society, fatties are not pretties.
At least, that's what her father has always told her.
But right now. Standing here right now. Before him. He, who can't seem to look away.
She feels like Halle Berry.
In a simple pair of blue jeans, and a T - Shirt, she walked outside to get the mail. She forgotten that her sister was going out with a bunch of her friends. Assuming she wasn't invited on...
The disco ball was turning. It would complete its revolution in 43.247 seconds. Just now, 100 times since he'd arrived. It had 1579 mirrored faces. That was a good number. Prime and a Fibonacci. Doubly good. Three tiny squares of mirrored glass were missing, showing the grey of the adhesive beneath.
"39.7617907."
"What? Oh, square roots again."
His brother smiled a sigh, then leaned nearer to combat the thunderous bass and the high pitched chatter. It wasn't enough. He had to shout over the music.
"I'm nearly done. Just a few more minutes, ok?"
He took the shrug as acceptance...
It was really quite simple. I called him in to prepare my nightly tea time, he walked into the room and I shot him between the eyes.
Was really his fault. He couldn't be counted on to keep quiet about my nature. Still, it was fun while it lasted. I called in the maids and they promptly set upon his body for removal. It was something like a week and I had gone through almost a dozen staff. They buzzed like flies when I needed them, but just could not keep to themselves when it came to keeping secrets.
So...