Midnight Run

This was Utopia.

She lifted her face to the moonshine and the leaves blocked the light just enough to create a dappled effect across her cheeks. She breathed in the scent of forest at midnight, convinced if there were a way to bottle and sell the smell, she’d be an instant millionaire. The craggy bark tugged on the delicate skin of her palms as she ran her hands over the trunk of the aged tree as one would run his hands over a lover’s breasts. She sighed, heavily.

Here, in this peaceful place, the harassment of the “Vogue Squad” faded to silence. Here, it didn’t matter that her mother had visciously named her Polly, and there were no catty voices repeatedly asking her “if she wanted a cracker.” Polly closed her eyes and tried to hush the shame that filled her when she thought of the untrue rumors that the Squad had started about her parents- her mother was a junkie whore, her father a drunk. The stories about her father didn’t bother her so much, since she had never known him anyway, and the chance that he was a drunk was highly probable. But when they mentioned her mama- the anger inside her at the thought became a living thing, and she gritted her teeth when she realized she’d been worrying at the tree with her nails, hard enough they’d begun to bleed. She stuck her index finger in her mouth and sucked on it, trying to relieve the pain.

The only good thing about moving to this town was this place. She could wander through the underbrush blissfully, lost in her own thoughts. Mostly, these times were enjoyable; other times, she realized she thought too much, and nothing good could come of that.

Just then, she noticed there were no sounds. No owls hooting, not a nighthawk screeching, nothing. There weren’t even any fireflies around, which she thought was odd, since this town was always swarming with them. Polly thought she saw a bush moving to her right, but clouds had obstructed the moonlight, so she leaned forward and squinted, trying to get a better look. When she realized what it was she was looking at, her heart dropped to the bottom of her feet.

The two eyes staring at her were a gleaming yellow. They were set in a face of obsidian fur, complete with a doggish “grin?” Polly thought to herself, filled with razor-like teeth.

“Great. I had to deal with those bitches all day, and now I get to be eaten by a wolf. I wonder what those rumors will sound like.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of her situation.

The wolf snarled as she did so, and stepped forward menacingly. Polly had nowhere to go with the tree at her back, and knew she wasn’t going to outrun any wild animal anyway, so she stayed perfectly still. She looked into those feral eyes and wished just once that she could be the one behind them.

The creature was huge; bigger than any wolf Polly had seen on Discovery Channel. She wondered if she was discovering a new and unique hybrid, and then for a second mourned the fact that no one would hear about it after she was mauled and digested. Her thoughts carried on in this vein while the wolf paced around her and sniffed warily. She absurdly applauded herself for remembering deodorant this morning, and then couldn’t stifle the giggle that escaped when she did so.

The wolf stopped midstep and peered at her intently. Polly held her breath and closed her eyes, awaiting her imminent demise, but felt no fangs ripping at her throat. She opened one eye, and then the other, and looked wildly around for her exterminator, but the wolf was gone.

 

 

Justin heaved himself out of the river, gripping a fallen log for dear life. He swished and spit the water in his mouth, but he knew no amount of squalid creek water was going to get the taste of wet dog out of his mouth. His head was ready to split in two, and he was shivering violently as he lay naked partially in the water. He brushed the shaggy hair that was stuck to his face aside, and rubbed his eyes, wishing as he did so that he’d remember to put some soap somewhere out here in the woods. He finished crawling out of the river, and curled into a ball, exhausted. Just before he passed out, he thought of the pretty girl with curly hair who hadn’t been scared, but had just stood there, waiting for him to kill her.

The Cruelty of Children

They say that children are cruel. I know this is true because I was one of the cruel ones. At least a little bit. I was picked on more than I ever picked on anyone, I’m assuming because I was 5’3″ and 130 lbs by the time I was 10, but I did have my moments of wretchedness. You would think since I am now grown, and haven’t children of my own, I would be insusceptible to the bullying that I was subject to. Not so. I have vowed to tell mostly the truth in this blog. So here goes…

My Rockstar has a 9 yr old daughter. That in itself is not the issue, though I believe a 9 yr old son would have been easier to deal with. When we began dating, my Rockstar  was a bit dubious when I declared my position as a potentially awesome step-mother-like figure. Perhaps it was because I have next to no experience with children, or perhaps he was aware of the Daughter’s and my dispositions and need for attention. Who knows. Let’s just say he may have been right.

While the Daughter is quite affectionate, (which I love) at times she can resemble Regan from The Excorcist. (during the really scary part.) Mainly these incidents originate when she is told to do something she doesn’t want to do; I understand for the first 7 years she was babied and not really disciplined, but COME ON. I am going to use a phrase I never thought I would- when I was a kid. When I was a kid, if I acted that way I woulda gotten my ass beat. I do not in any way condone corporal punishment, but I DO believe the FEAR of an ass-beating should be instilled into cerebrum.

The episode that prompted me to compose this post has happened more than once. Last night, everything was misleadingly copascetic. We ate dinner, they played tennis (I detest running) and I read a “bednight” story to the Daughter. Then it was actually time for sleep. I have largely given up trying to actually get that kid to stay in bed after I’ve tucked her in. I just go to bed, since she doesn’t feel compelled to listen to me. I was engrossed in reading my bio of Dolly Parton (Yay Dolly!) when the Daughter comes into our bedroom

The Daughter: “I’m sleeping in here.”

My response is to remind her that she doesn’t listen very well.

Me: “You better get in bed, since daddy has already told you 3 times.”

The Daughter: “You know, I am the Queen and I live here. You are just staying here for a little while. Maybe YOU should go to bed.”

I admit. If it was a kid I didn’t know, I would probably be laughing too. However. Having a 9 yr old tell me my living situation( and my relationship) is on probation irked the hell outta me. (It also made it impossible to sleep.)

My question is, I realize this is something that my Rockstar needs to address with his Daughter. Or with me. If I am to be a built-in part of their lives, she needs to get it through her head. If I AM on probation, then I would much rather just be told to get the fuck out now. How am I supposed to instill respect into a 9 yr old who doesn’t even understand the concept? And yes, I am 29, but it still hurts my feelings to be bullied. I don’t like it when events in my life make me want to say, “Fuck this shit.”