She found herself standing on Tremont St. once again. The night fully engulfed her as she watched snow drift down. Already the streets and sidewalks were covered in white. Off in the distance she could see a couple prostitutes huddled in a doorway. Why were they out tonight? There had been no traffic in hours, yet there they were.

          Then it hit her. She had been desperate once. Just as desperate as those scantily clad women. That was over a decade ago, shortly after she ran away from home at the tender age of sixteen. Why did she do it? Why did she celebrate her birthday running away from all she knew? She had been warm. She had friends. She was loved. At least, that is what everyone had told her.

          It certainly was not a premeditated choice of hers. She didn’t think it through. She had had enough though. Enough of her mother’s indifference. Enough of her friends lack of intelligent conversation. Enough of her step-father’s late night visits to her room. She couldn’t take what he did to her any longer. So, she ran away. She ran far. She ran long. In some ways, she hadn’t run far enough.

          When she stopped running the first time, she found herself in the big city. That glorious city of lights. The one that never slept. That was a real eye-opener. Within hours of her arrival, she had been scooped up by a lady. What drew her to the lady was the sweater she had been wearing. Petunia Pig was prominently displayed over her chest. Surely she could trust someone wearing a cartoon character on their clothing. So, she trusted the lady. She thought the lady would help her survive on the streets. Well, she did do that. Unfortunately, she had turned her into a whore. The one thing she ran away from, she found herself doing nightly with complete strangers. Sure, it made her money. Sure, it kept her fed. It kept the lady from turning her away to survive on her own. She never could have done that. She knew that now. She was too young, too naïve, too trusting.

          It took her five year, many broken bones, two abortions and a shattered soul before she finally ran away again. By that time, she had lost her innocence. She had lost her naivety. She had lost her sanity. All she had was her life. What little life it was. She ran again. This time she ran through premeditation. Nothing else would have gotten her to leave that city.

          When she stopped this time, she was in a different city. One that had an older feel to it. One that she hoped would be different. It was different. She knew enough to stay away from the pimps and druggies. She reinvented herself. As the years went on, she found herself lost within these new streets. She slowly found a niche. She learned to keep everything she owned with her. She found an old store carriage, and used that to carry many of her belongings, all thrown into discarded bags.

          That was how she earned her name. The Bag Lady. Everyone called her that. Well, they called her other things too. They called her crazy. They called her stinky girl. Some even called her Sister Helena. That was a little too close for comfort though. Helena was her sister’s name. She wondered what happened to her. Had her step-father started visiting her, when she ran away? She hoped not. Helena had been so innocent, beautiful, and so full of life. It would destroy her to know she had condemned her sister to the fate she was running from.

          She shook her memories away. Then, she glanced down the street. Slowly she walked towards the two prostitutes. Her life was destroyed she knew that. Yet, she had a calling. A calling that earned her that last name. She was one of the lost ones. It was too late for her. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too late for them. She would go to them. She would talk to them. She’d try and get them to go to one of the shelters. Certainly they were running from something. She wouldn’t try and make them return to that life. She would only try and keep them from total destruction. She had to try and save them before they became like her. That was her mission. That was her life.

          So, she walked down Tremont St. awash in the cold. The snow drifted down around her. She tilted her head up and smiled. Her life wasn’t perfect, but she had a calling. She would do it to the best of her abilities until He called her home.

This has been written for blogophilia.  Feel free to check out all the other fine blogs posted over there.

bonus picture guesses: caftan cowboy,  guitar hero, sing me a song, guitars for dummies.

So, my friend Dahlia decided to throw the Prada gauntlet at me. She should know better than that, but it is what it is. Basically, it is a simple five word challenge. Check out all the other takers of the challenge. They all did a wonderful job.

The Five words were

The Call of the Dark

Within the darkness of man’s heart
temptation crouches patiently
waiting for that simple moment
of weakness, it pounces with glee

releasing inhibition’s chains
it sets us on the path of sin
which can only lead to sorrow
yet we succumb, and no one wins

ingenious man sees his weakness
and responds with clear precision
denying such dark desires
looking to love with pure vision

© December 5, 2009 CRF

So, I decided to continue my story which the lovely Lissa has been writing parts to. If you have missed any of hers, click here.  This has also been written for blogophilia. Be sure to check out all the other fine writes.

*engage in a green activity

*include a kitchen disaster 

*include 2 famous rivers 

*use the words you light up my life 

*mention a chocolate chip cookie 

         I watched as she slowly closed her eyes. I really hadn’t planned on feeding from her, but she did drink all of my blood wine. Carefully I picked her limp body up and carried her gently to the guest room. I spent the time buried within my thoughts.

          Who was this crazy chick? I had been so sure she would be gone by the time I rose this night. I was wrong. I’m never wrong. At least, I’ve never been wrong since I became immortal. I didn’t like it.

          I should have known better. I should have recognized the blizzard closing in. I should have known she could not leave on her own. That meant I had two choices. I could let her stay. Granted, I didn’t like the idea. She was already getting on my nerves. Worse yet, she was burrowing beneath my defenses. I didn’t think I could hold out against her much longer. She was awakening a feeling inside me that I thought long since died.

          The second option wasn’t much better. I could carry her to safety myself. I still had plenty of time and energy to do that. I mean, I carried David into the atmosphere before ripping his throat out. I certainly could carry her across miles of land to civilization and still return before sunrise.

          Did I really want to? Damn, she was even in my head when she was sleeping! How dare she infect me so! Maybe I should just kill her and be done with it. I knew I wouldn’t though. She had quickly replaced the missing sunlight in my life. As I lay her down upon the soft coverlets, I whispered to her. “You light up my life. Sleep now. I will see you soon.”

          At the doorway, I gazed back once to watch her peaceful sleep. She lay there, her lips parted as she breathed softly. Her hair fanned out surrounding her head in a halo. Then I turned and headed out.

          I began striding purposefully towards the upper levels of the keep. Each step was punctuated by a growing rage inside of me. Those villagers would pay for this. I would make sure of it. How dare they think a sacrifice would help them? The nerve. The gall. Damn them all!

          By the time I reached the parapet, my anger had reached the boiling point. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this angry. Heck, even David never made me this irate. With the rage flowing through my veins, I leapt off into the night sky, transforming into a raven as soon as I cleared the edge. Sure, I could just fly there in my present shape, but as a bird, I could fly quicker. The blizzard had abated and the moon was out lighting the way. I didn’t want them to see me coming.

          The flight to the village only took a couple of minutes. I covered the miles quickly and silently, finally coming to a rest just outside the local inn. Sounds of revelry drifted out as I quickly resumed my human form. I strode over to the back entrance, and stepped silently inside.

          I was in the kitchen. The cook was standing near the hearth, adding parsley, chives and ground garlic to a large kettle. Two young scullions saw me enter. One was slicing potatoes while the other was taking a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie. Their eyes bulged out of their heads in obvious fright. I just raised a finger to my lips, urging them to silence as I approached the cook.

          Reaching the cook, I took hold of a ladle and scooped up a bit of the stew she was preparing. Tasting it, I smacked my lips and said: “I think it needs more garlic dear.”

          I heard a gasp from behind. A sweet coppery scent wafted over me and my head snapped around. The stupid little girl. She had tried to continue watching me while cutting the potatoes. Unfortunately, she had slipped and cut her hand as well. I saw the blood well up from the gash in her hand. Instantly, I was by her side, holding her hand to my mouth as I greedily sucked in the precious fluid.

          A moment later, I stopped. I slowly lowered her hand back down. The bleeding was now stopped. Some vampires were able to produce an enzyme in their saliva that would stop bleeding. It was useful if you didn’t want to alert your presence to the locals.

          The girl gazed up at me. I could feel her terror. It sent shivers down my spine. How had I forgotten this feeling?

          “Will…will I become a vampire now?” she asked tremulously.

          “No, my sweetling. You will most certainly not. I would not have taken any of your blood, but you so graciously offered it. You should bandage that wound, but you will be fine.”

          I gave her a little wink and turned back to the cook.

          “Now, would you be so kind as to tell me where I may find Nicolai?”

          “Uh, great Lord Tsepes! He is in the private dining area. You will find him and his boys there.”

          I nodded, and strode out of the room. As I did, I chuckled to myself. These locals were so cute. They insisted on calling me by the name of an ancient ruler in these parts. I hadn’t the heart to inform them I was not the Impaler. He had long since departed the land of the living. Still, it was useful to keep my true identity secret. You never knew just who might hear of my actions. I wouldn’t want an old enemy trying to hunt me down.

          Quickly I walked through the dimly lit halls. They only used kerosene lamps. I guess the modern world would say they were engaging in a green activity. I actually enjoyed it. The poor lighting added to the terror I would inflict upon them.

          When I reached the dining room, I never hesitated. I burst through the door. None of the occupants had a chance to react. Within seconds, Nicolai’s youngest son lay in a pool of blood, his throat ripped out. The other son struggled futilely in my grasp. The shock on Nicolai’s face was priceless. That made this perfect.

          “Lord Tsepes! How have I angered you? We have left you be. We have kept all foreigners away from your keep. No one knows you are here. Why would you kill my son?”

          “You are a horrible liar. I know what you and your boys did. You attacked that young woman, knocked her out, and left her in the keep. You thought to make her a sacrifice! Did I ask you for a sacrifice? No! I didn’t.”

          “There are always two sides to a story, my lord! We couldn’t let her go. She demanded to see the keep. She claimed it was a research project. We figured you would want to deal with her. Please, Lord Tsepes. I’m begging you, don’t hurt my son.”

          “You have one chance Nicolai. Here is what you will do. You will gather up all the wine in this town. You will bring the wine and plenty of food up to the keep tomorrow. You will make sure it is delivered and in good order. You will make sure the woman doesn’t see you. Do that and I might return your son to you. Otherwise you will never see your son alive again. Heck, you’ll never see him dead either. I will take this bottle as down payment.”

          Quickly I snatched the unopened bottle from the table. I also grabbed the empty bottle and filled it with the blood of his dead son. I would certainly need some blood wine tomorrow night.

        Once finished, I dragged the unfortunate boy behind me as I strode out of the Inn. Within seconds, I was soaring back towards the keep. Once there, I bound and gagged the boy and left him locked up, and then headed down to the kitchen. I placed the two bottles in the fridge. I left a note on the wine. It said ‘This is wine. You may drink it if you wish. Please leave the other bottle for me.’

     The dawn was still an hour away. I found myself back at the guest room, staring down at her sleeping. Visions began to filter through my head. I was with her. We were standing alongside a river. It could have been the Seine. It may have been the Thames. Heck, for all I knew it was the Mississippi. Regardless, it was the middle of the night. She was nestled in my arms. She seemed so happy, gazing into my eyes. How could this be? She knew what I was. How could she be so happy with me?

       I shook the visions away. They were only dreams. It would never be. She was mortal. She had a life. I had nothing. I could give her nothing. I should stop dreaming of love. I would never have it now. I could live… well, I suppose live is the wrong word, I could exist without love. I would have to.

Quickly I turned away and gently closed her door. It would be dawn soon. She would be waking. Maybe she would come to her senses? She would leave. She would be long gone by the time I rose again. That would be for the best.

As I lay down, I found myself praying she would still be there when next I rose.

Death of Dreams (the Crow VII)

I had such high hopes
as I journeyed through my youth,
I was free of doubts,
as I formed my identity.
I could be anything,
make a difference.
Excitement flowed
through my veins,
yet was it all in vain?

‘cause here I sit
pondering upon my choices.
I sleepwalk through life,
in a trance, a zombie
working…eating…sleeping,
I am just an empty shell
of that playful, fun-loving youth
who danced expressively
to the music of life,
blaring the glorious future
that never came, or did it
arrive when I wasn’t looking?

So I sit, and watch the crow
as it watches me, and then
it spreads its wings, flies away
into the deep blue skies.

Clarity hits me then
kindles aflame, the tiny ember
hidden deep within me.
That tiny ember of hope,
that perhaps I will
dream again.

© November 29, 2009 CRF

We are having an open mic at the Sunday Wordplay Workshop at the Harmony Pub. We would love it if you joined us.

Thief in the Night

            During the early years of SGI, business was slim. I mean, who would charter flights from some no-name company? That didn’t deter me though. I could always use the planes to smuggle anything that my clients desired. It certainly would make things a lot easier than that time in Rome.  It certainly was quite a harrowing adventure smuggling a Komodo dragon through Customs in my pants.

          Truth be told, I was shocked when I received that call detailing a proposal I really couldn’t refuse. The client, we’ll call her Mrs. L for anonymity’s sake, wanted to charter a flight to Central Africa. She was dying  to go on a safari, and now that her husband had passed away, under mysterious circumstances I might add, she had the time and money to do so. However, she didn’t want to fly some commercial airline. She knew that their policies were quite strict. They would never let her smoke on the flight. They would keep her from drinking what she wanted, when she wanted. Heck, she would probably be fondled left and right by horny college boys. Well, actually she didn’t really mind that part, but the rest were deal breakers.

          So, there I was in my office, considering how much I should charge David for smuggling him a monkey to play with, yeah, I know, David has a strange desire to be playing with monkeys all day long, when the call came. As soon as she mentioned going on safari, I knew that I could kill two birds, not actual birds, I would never harm a bird, with one stone. More importantly, it would be like getting paid twice for the same job. It was perfect.

          The only concern was she hadn’t booked a safari yet. So, I had to go surfing the web, finding different safaris. She made me send her all the contact info, with their terms and conditions, so that she could decide which to book. Her demanding attitude was a bit annoying, but the money she  was paying me made up for that. Plus, I figured while the pilot was flying us down to Africa, I could act out her college boy fantasy. A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. Know what I mean?

          Anywho, to make a long story short, I flew her down to Africa. While she spent the week on safari, I spent the week capturing monkeys. Let me tell you, those little buggers don’t play fair. They are some of the most difficult animals to catch. Heck, the dragon was easier to catch. After that, it was smooth sailing back. Though she had caught malaria, and I had a barrel full of monkeys, we breezed right through customs, both in Africa and back in Rhode Island. It pays to have connections at smaller airports.

          Once we arrived back home, she thanked me for the experience of a lifetime and actually gave me a thousand dollar tip for acting out the college boy fantasy. She said I was worth every penny. Of course, I never told her my real name or stayed around for her to come back. I’m not stupid. I have an idea how her husband died, and I don’t want to follow suit. She strikes me as the kind of woman that believes the adage “Dead men tell no tales.”

          The good thing about it is between her fee, and the fee that David paid for the monkeys, I was able to purchase a second plane and really get SGI off the ground. Life is good.

Sean, James and Drew came forth from the woods that glorious day;
to speak with full purpose of heart, simple words of wisdom;
if you have nothing to say, don’t say anything at all.

© November 3, 2009 CRF

So, amazingly I was able to complete the blogophilia challenge in the form of a Sijo. Feel free to check out the other fine bloggers.