I’m working on editing a play I wrote some years ago based and inspired by Alice in Wonderland. A theatre friend of mine loved it, so, I guess that I’ll get it edited, possibly published, and maybe offer it for free in a pdf format to college students for their thesis plays. Maybe. What do you guys think?
Category Archives: Short Stories
The holidays are the important part of our year. My family’s traditions never really confused me. Around Thanksgiving, the tree and decorations go up. And the tree was never one of those nice smelling real ones. We always had the plastic ones. I’d never even gotten to go tree picking until my friend Julia’s family invited me to theirs.
It was a nice day temperature-wise. My outfit had only been a light jacket, long sleeved shirt, and a pair of jeans. My sneakers didn’t quite fit right. As I walked, my feet slid back and forth. Julia wore less for warmth. She was used to Illinois weather. Cold. Her parents were dressed similarily. I don’t remember where her older brother was. I don’t remember him being there.
After a long, boring trip we arrived to a building made of wood. A tree, painted in green paint, was right above the door. Mrs. Laing took us into the building and while we went to the bathroom spoke to the man. When I came out, a guide sat in a car with a trailer on the back. Hay–my worse enemy–were used as seats. We road out to the trees.
Pine assaulted my nose. Rows of trees, like the stacks of a library, seemed to go on endlessly. Julia and I walked through the trees.
“I’ve never done this before,” I said.
“Really?” Julia asked, assessing a tree. “We do it every year. What do you think of this one?”
“Where’s it going?”
“In the living room.”
“It needs to be thicker,” I said, looking around. None of the immediate ones seemed right for the Laing family. We walked to the next section. I suggested one, but Julia said that it was too tall. It started getting dark and colder. Julia and I looked around until one of us spotted the perfect tree. After agreeing, I went to get her parents. We loaded the car up and went home.
My grandparents picked me up before I could help them decorate it.
I was never used to this sort of scene: my husband laying on his back, texting something or other to his sister. The big screen television set, though having an orange tint, was connected to some sort of cable network. HGTV had the international version of House Hunters. Oma Rosemary was making cake icing for the funfetti cake David had baked. She worked diligently. I wished I could help her, glaring at the webpages of various universities.
“Why can’t these be user friendly?” I grumbled.
“What was that, love?”
“Nothing, honey,” I said, smiling at David. He was staring at me with the beautiful green eyes that just emulated love towards me. My heart swelled and tears sprung to my eyes. Fredrick kicked from inside my womb. Turning back to the computer, Oma suddenly cleared her throat.
“Where are my two beater lickers?” she asked, turning around in her wheelchair. Her purple blanket dangled off her legs precariously. In her left hand were the beaters from her electric mixer.
“What do you say?” I asked David, turning to look at him. “Do you want to lick her beaters?”
David started laughing, losing all control. He rolled on the floor, hitting it with his fist before finally taking the beaters from his grandmother’s hand and handing one to me. Putting aside the computer, I started licking the chocolaty icing goodness.
Kristin stared at the television, confused by what she saw. There was some sort of cheerleading movie on and while it appealed to the girly-ness of her character, it also frightened her a little. She quickly switched to BBC America where Doctor Who had already started. Matt Smith was running around with the Doctor’s new companion. Kristin enjoyed her. The girl reminded her of a souffle that was just about done. It still needed to peculate in the oven, but it would be perfect when finished. Her phone vibrated, surprising her enough to launch her in the air. Cursing silently to herself, she hoped her mother wasn’t faking her out again.
“Honey its me! Bye!”
God, was she tired of it. She looked at caller ID. 555-5555 She answered, holding the phone to her ear as she turned the volume to the Christmas Special down.
“Hey, Kristin! Its us!”
“I know! Oh goodness. Okay, so I’m not really sure what’s going on right now in my life,” she sighed, falling back on the bed. After talking to her friends, J and David, she realized that she wished she could be in the same room, discussing the Christmas Special together.
Dear Clara in 20 years,
Please don’t be afraid to let your children explore. Don’t let yourself down for forgetting anything you wanted, what I want now.
Please do the right thing. I have a bad feeling about what the future will hold.
Dear 14-year-old Clara,
God, what I would do to go back to then. At least to change one thing. Things do get better, but you have to leave that stupid village. Its a bad place for you, Clara. After they killed Father, there was nothing left. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. You just survived an attack from the Raptors. Get the hell out of dodge.
Don’t make the mistakes I did. I stayed, tried to fit in when I knew I couldn’t. Mother found another man and created another family. Don’t get attached to Em. She’ll be fine without you. I know she’s only an infant, but you need to stay away. You’ll get into the Tree Folks if you leave now.
Please think about it.
The prompt sat in front of her like a curse. She didn’t want to write it, but she had writers block against her story for NaNoWriMo and it was only the first day. The writer had her word count already, but she wanted to write more. Tossing back her long, red hair she stared at the empty blog post.
“When was the last time you felt really, truly lonely?” she read the question out loud. “When was that?”
Her fingers began to flow over the keyboard, writing about elementary school when she sat by herself at lunch and then onward to when her roommate wasn’t home yet. Those were her loneliest times. The times when she felt like she was being pushed away from everyone she loved. Those were it.
The post wasn’t very long, only four or five paragraphs, but it was enough for her.
“Happy NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo, Sally,” she muttered, pushing publish.
“What do I remember from the world blowing up in our faces? What do I remember? The first thing that told us it was happening was the sudden sound of airplane turbines. Airplane turbines that never turned off. They just go on and on as if some psycho has forgotten how to turn them off, but still remembers how to fuel them. Why won’t they stop? WHY WON’T THEY STOP?” the woman on the plasma screen said on a permanent loop. Hollywood had kept its desire for the fucked up and the exploitable. Even their belief in the power of fame couldn’t stop them from deteriorating to the ravaged bunch of animals. Somehow the fucked up tape kept playing on its loop, but with the volume turned up it somehow managed to block out the sound of what she described as an airplane turbine. I’d seen an airplane once. It was in a book that my mum burned for warmth, cooking something we caught hours earlier to eat. Unfortunately, the fire and the stench brought the Raptors after us. I’d escaped without a wound. Mum escaped with all but one limb. A tree branch had taken its place for two months. Then the Raptors got her too.
“Turn that shit off, Crim,” Pal said, running his hand over his machete blade that he was cleaning. I scoffed and turned the television up. The sharp, metallic clanging of a blade hitting the cold, concrete floor was loud enough to cause me to jump despite the volume of both the whirling and the woman’s nearly constantly screaming. I turned in time to see his boots before only the turbine-like noise was left.
“Fuck you,” I grumbled, adjusting my knick-knacks. Ignoring me, Pal’s footsteps walked off into what might have been a kitchen-area. Of course we converted it into a fire-pit to ward off the Raptors. Fire was the only thing we had to protect ourselves. Since I knew that if I turned on the Picture Set Pal would send me to the crow’s nest to watch for Raptors as they approach the side of our make-shift fortress that was unprotected, I got up and went to the window. A figure was running towards our home. Grabbing my binoculars from around my neck, held by a leather strap made from the skin of the first Raptor I killed, I watched the red headed man who could have been my brother run towards us. Behind him a dark-haired, light skinned man ran with his long hair bouncing with each stride. Pulling my face away, I picked up my handgun and holstered it before turning to Pal.
“Hey, Pal. Ken’s back,” I said.
“Someone is with him.”
“What?” Pal roared, jumping into the room and running out the door that headed to the scaffolding that he uses to target practise. He followed it down to the ground with me on his heels. The man stopped a foot behind Ken when he stopped at the borders to our territory.
“What’s wrong?” Ken asked.
“Why is there someone with you?”
“He needs help.”
“You know we can’t afford another mouth. Kern, this is the third time you’ve done this. We can’t keep doing this, Ken,” Pal said, starting his long speech that he’s been practising since he was elected leader by those who were left after the last leader went insane. I allowed my eyes to move to the new arrival. Somewhere in the speech Ken introduced him as Dav. His eyes met mine, but he averted his eyes first, seeming surprised by my green eyes. People claimed I was half Raptor.
I allowed myself to view the surroundings where old, junk vehicles sat rusted and unworkable. My boots brushed against the paper left in the street from the mass chaos that the mobs created. I heard a clink of two pebbles hitting each other and looked back at Dav kicking the rocks around. My eyes caught his foot hitting a rock that zoomed through the window of a junked up Cadillac. Loud, piercing wails caused me to jump a foot off the ground. Pal cursed, pulling his weapon from his belt. I followed suit, as did Ken. Dav stared at us.
We waited, silent with only the constant sound that had been there for as long as I could imagine. A good five minutes later we heard the tale-tell sound of a Raptor Horde, a loud scream, much like a baby crying for his mother. Ken grabbed Dav’s arm and threw him between the three of us as we turned to a position much like the mother triceratops circling the babies to protect them from enemies. The first Raptor crested the hill with a baby-like roar before rushing towards us.
Raptors are monsters that had been human once. Their eyes are emerald green and very humanoid. Their teeth are sharpened from cannibalistic tendencies over the generations and their fingernails have sharpened and lengthened to a deadly point. Their legs have mutated to look like the velociraptors from the books I read as a child right before we burned them. The Raptors didn’t wear clothing and their nude flesh were dark brown from the sun.
“How many do y think, Pal?”
“A good two, maybe three hundred.”
“I don’t think I have that many rounds on me, Pal,” I said, taking aim at the first one rushing directly at me.
“That doesn’t matter. Kill enough of ’em and they’ll run.”
“How much will be enough?”
“I don’t know,” Pal admitted. I shot the one I’d been aiming at, killing it. Two replaced it. I missed the next one I aimed at. The gunfire went on until every single gun we had clicked that it was empty. Three of mine laid at my feet and my fourth went empty in my hand. A ring of Raptors stood around us, in a circle. The stare down initiated , no one moved. We stayed like that until Dav, the stranger, jumped in front of me with a mallet and aimed at the first Raptor he saw, beating the living shit out of it. Once it was dead, he stood huffing over its body and looking up at the Horde as if asking who was next. The Raptors looked at each other confused before looking the corpse of the creature left. Dav started towards them, swinging the mallet wide. They turned and ran back the way they came. Pal stepped up to the corpse and prodded it with the butt of his gun.
“What’d you wanna do with it?” Ken asked.
“Can’t leave it here. The Raptors’ll return for the feast. Skin the legs and throw the rest of it to the dogs,” Pal said, turning to Dav. “Have you done that before?”
Ken picked up the corpse and carried it to the fenced in area towards the side of our fortress. Dav and Pal stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
“Believe it or not, that was our initiation. I guess you don’t have to prove yourself,” Pal said, grinning. Dav responded in kind and the two them started for the building. Pal mentioned a tour or something like that. I allowed my view to go back to the landscape and sighed.
Warning: This may seem a little disturbing. Do not read if you are easily offended.
Marriage Made in Hell
The woman standing behind the shojo door was human with long, brunette hair and bright green eyes. She wore a posh little number that reminded me of Claire and Rachel upstairs in their little, awesome cage, but the pencil skirt stopped a bit too high and the entire ensemble was red. Hell had sent its representative, it seemed.
“Hello? Are you just going to stare at me or do I get to see my son?” she asked, a tinkling voice shrouded in annoyance.
“You’re son?” I asked, confused. “There are no human men here.”
“Gregorious. My son is Gregorious,” she finally sighed, stepping past me to get into the main room. Gregor lounged on the cushions, reading what looked to be a literary magazine from Hell. Stealing it, I sat next to him. Gregor’s mother stood above him for a few moments before he noticed her.
“Mom! What are you doing here?” he asked, voice shaking. Rolling my eyes, I shook my head at his antics. He knew what she was doing here, but he didn’t want me to know.
“Are you going to introduce us, Gregorious?”
“Oh, sorry Mom. Mom, this is Faith. Faith is a really good friend. Faith, this is my mother, Joan. Father’s first wife,” Gregor said, taking my hand and squeezing it gently. Joan gave me a once over before smiling warmly.
“That’s better. Now was that so hard?”
“Anyway, I have something to give you, but no outsiders can see. I’m sorry, Faith, but you’ll have to leave,” Joan said, stepping forward to help me out of the cushion. With magazine in hand, I smiled and waved as I walked into the kitchen. The first short story was a little three parter by someone called “B. W. R. Thorn” about some interesting relationship between demon and human. It wasn’t the norm that was for sure, though it did sound a little familiar.
“Well she has a good heart and soul,” I heard Joan’s voice from the main room. Whatever they were planning, I wasn’t sure I was happy I could hear part of the conversation. Their voices rose until I could hear them talking and then sunk until all I could hear were murmurs. Their conversation lasted an hour before I heard Joan yell out a farewell. Gregor was in the kitchen with me a moment later.
“Faith, I need to tell you something.”
“What I’m about to tell you, Faith, will be wiped from your memory if need be,” he said, avoiding the subject. I closed the magazine and looked into his eyes, full of love.
I blinked. Love had never been in his eyes before.
“What is it?” I asked, leaning forward to get a better view.
“My parents have been pushing me to find a… bride to settle down with and have lots of fat, happy children. My mom’s demands, not Father’s,” he said, casting his eyes down to stare at the table.
“Funny, so is my mom,” I muttered.
“And I’ve made my choice, Faith.”
I blinked again.
“You’re choice?” I inquired.
“Yes. According to tradition I must ask you to be my unholy bride and to take this ring,” he said, rushing the last few words. In his hand he held a silver ring with a heart in the center, hands on both side, and a crown over the heart. My heart stopped as I stared at the Claddagh Ring, my dream ring. A Celtic symbol for love and friendship, the perfect engagement ring held out right in front of me.
“Are you asking me to marry you, Gregor?” I asked quietly.
“Hot damn,” I muttered, wrapping my head around everything. “And if I say yes, how long would I have.”
“Until the joining? A couple of hours at the most, really,” he responded.
“Hell, fucking yes,” I said, launching across the table to kiss him with all my might. We made out in the kitchen for a few moments before I had to breathe again.
“Alright. I have to go. See you in a few hours, love.”
“Okay,” I muttered, leaning down to kiss him, but he’d already disappeared. The Pixies who worked with him began to appear one by one until the room was full of Pixies and fabric. They worked tiredlessly to created a green wedding dress that had a Indian-styled veil that went down to my thigh. The collar was like a kimono, as well as the sleeves, and my waist was clenched in by a corset tied tightly. The skirt of the gown looked like it was out of the nineteenth century. I had no shoes, but I didn’t mind.
A little imp appeared with a cloud of smoke, causing the Pixies to chitter angrily at it. It looked a little confused at first, but then bowed stiffly.
It is time, Miss Faith. Gregorious the Lustful waits for you with his brother, Patarion the Wrathful-and-Currently-High-on-Marijuana, a voice said in my head.
“Are you saying that?” I asked the little imp. It just bowed before gesturing for me to follow him. We walked out to the garden with the pond shaped like a kidney bean. A little house sat on the edge and Koi fish swam near the surface. Gregor stood in a loin cloth just outside the house with his father in the doorway. Claire and Rachel stood in chains and gagged, no doubt because of their loud and obnoxious bitching. Joan stood on the otherside of Gregor, her hands on his shoulders.
“Faith, you have decided to take my son as your mate for all eternity. You have a chance to change your mind now,” Lucifer said, his hands resting behind him.
“I want to we-join with Gregor.”
“Very well. Tradition speaks that two bigoted Christians must be sacrificed and sent back to their God for their reward or punishment. That is the demand. Do you understand?” Lucifer said, his hands punctuating his words.
“Yes. Who does the sacrifice?” I asked, glaring at the two bitches.
“Give me a knife then,” I said, starting towards the girls. A knife appeared in my hand and I started to work. Before long they were both dead, their blood pooling around their maimed bodies. Remarkably, my dress remained undamaged. A second later, a bright light blinded me before Gregor and I were alone in a small shrine, where the large and towering piece of shit used to be.
“Welcome home, Faith,” Gregor said, sweeping me off my feet and into the bridal hold.
“Welcome home, Gregor,” I responded, giggling. With a chuckle and a prance, Gregor stepped over the threshold of our new home and into our new lives.
Warning: This may seem a little disturbing. Do not read if you are easily offended.
“Why do you doubt it, Sweetie?” I whispered, leaning onto his shoulder. Gregor’s arm automatically came up around me, holding me to him. His dark, brown eyes locked onto mine and before I knew it he had me on the cushions, snuggling.
“Angels are just like the two lovely ladies upstairs, except they’re worse. They have problems with demons and tend to poke vulnerable places in our emotions. Grandfather loves having them around, but Father… It bothers him. Mother just ends up amused,” he replied, taking my hand in his. The Brownies floated over and bowed deeply to Gregor before a pure, white envelope appeared in midair. Gregor grabbed it before it could drop as the Fae disappeared. As he opened the envelope, a bright light burst from it, blinding me.
“God! Fucking bright light!”
“Grandfather!” Gregor growled, pulling my hands from my eyes when the light had disappeared. A note, or invitation, fell out with engraved words in gold. The cardstock itself was as white as the envelope it had come in. A key fell out as well, shiny silver against Gregor’s red skin. He held it to the light of the candled chandelier, turning it this way and that. I snatched the invitation from his hand.
It was from Gregor’s grandfather, but I didn’t make it past the first line before it was in his hands again. His eyes scanned the page religiously, as if searching for the meaning of life. A bag of chips suddenly landed in my lap, the Pixie responsible disappearing faster than you could pronounce their names.
“Wait. Bright, white light with white paper and Pat—your brother mentioned that your grandfather had a house with many rooms,” I said, leaning forward to Gregor to search his eyes. “And your grandfather is around Angels. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it means.”
“Well, what do you think?” Gregor asked, taking his eyes off the invitation, finally. His right hand rubbed up and down my right arm. The soothing strokes almost distracted me from my thoughts. Almost.
“Your grandfather’s God. You’re a direct descendant of the Almighty Something-stuck-up-my-ass, which means that your father must be one of the original fallen,” I murmured, sitting back further. The gears in my head started turning faster than ever as I counted up the two times I’d been chased by Gregor’s brother—or brothers—and the Army of Hell. Cursing, I stood up from the cushion. Turning on Gregor, I aimed my deadliest glare at him. At least it would be if looks could kill.
“Yes, my grandfather’s God. He’s such a—“
“Your father is Lucifer!” I shouted, backing away. A demon that none should mess with, except for two. Even using his less powerful name was dangerous, but I was willing to take the chance.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, leaning against the wall I had run into. He sighed before leaning forward. Another deep breath alerted me to the presence of extreme tension. Relenting the anger that had not really been there, I returned to his side and snuggled into him. Gregor kissed my forehead, holding me close to him. I was his lifeline in that moment.
“Because most people run away from me when I tell them.’
“He has over eighty kids,” I finally muttered. Gregor laughed his full belly laugh before kissing me fully on the mouth.
“He does. Seven of us are the—“
“Seven sins. I know,” I whispered, cuddling into his chest. “And you’re the equivalent of ‘Lust.’”
“How did you know?” he asked, kissing my cheek. I rolled my eyes before gesturing to the entire building. Come on, it was being held up by magic and sex. He laughed again before standing to walk to the kitchen. I followed quickly, returning the chips that had never left my hands to the cabinet they belonged in.
“What did God want?” I asked, pulling out a large pot and some boxes of spaghetti. The process of getting the water boiling was fast, so Gregor just ambled up behind me.
“Family dinner. A really big one, according to Patarion,” Gregor responded, helping with the noodles. “He wants you to come.”
I stopped for a millisecond, but it was enough for Gregor to finish supper. Mockingly, I admonished him on taking over something I loved to do. A flirtatious grin over took his face as he tried to feed me, but I insisted on feeding myself. He seemed annoyed, but it disappeared from his face in the next instance. He was an amusing study in emotions, though you wouldn’t have been able to tell with the bitches upstairs in the room. God, I wanted to kill them.
“Why does He want me to come?” I asked, starting to eat the remaining cheese on my plate. Gregor didn’t say anything at first and the atmosphere thickened until it was uncomfortable. I wiggled in my seat, trying to think of something to say to ease the tension you could cut with a dull, rusty spork.
“Apparently my father told him that you and I was an item. He wants to meet the girl who stole the demon of Lust’s heart,” Gregor said at last, keeping his eyes down casted. I stared at him, taking in each freckle and hair follicle until he finally looked up at me. Smiling, I stood and gestured for him to follow me. We walked up stairs and to the room we’d been sharing while I was there.
It’s a good thing I’m no Christian.
A few hours later Gregor led me to a vehicle on the outside of the tall-about-to-topple-over-tower I had never seen before. He helped me in and all I could see were futuristic computers mixed with laptops, and some of the ones from the eighties. Buttons were everywhere and there were more than one “do not press” buttons. Gregor joined me after a few minutes and typed rapidly. Soon, we were flying away.
We reached a splotch of pure, white, fluffy clouds and parked. Gregor acted like a gentleman, helping me out and escorting me to the biggest—and whitest—building I had ever seen. The path to the door was pure gold and the door was a strange mixture of gold and some sort of wood. A Doctor Who joke popped in my head, but I held it back. It would do no good to piss off our host. Especially since he could smite you without so much as a blink. Gregor knocked on the door and a tall man with blond hair opened the door.
“Hello, Gregorious. It was so nice of you to come,” the man said. I was a little afraid that I might burst out laughing, but I held it in better than the toga held in the Angel’s junk.
“Hello, Uncle Gabriel.”
“Who is this young lady, Gregorious?”
“Faith, this is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Faith. She’s my companion,” Gregor responded, his voice taking an icy tone. Gabriel held up his hands as if to say that he wasn’t going to do anything, but there was a gleam in his eye that I didn’t trust. It spoke of promises I did not care to find out about.
“I won’t touch her, Nephew. Just remember to mind your manners around Father,” Gabriel said, leading us inside. We weren’t the first of the demons to arrive, but we were the last. Lucifer stood in his evil glory next to his father, whose righteous glory was making me feel like vomiting. There was so much white in the room, you would’ve thought that the entire squad of Angels were there. As soon as he saw us, Lucifer practically sprinted over and hugged Gregor.
“Thank Hell, you’re here. I don’t think I could’ve stood another one of your grandfather’s ‘An Angel and a Demon Walked into a Bar’ joke. My evilness are those not funny,” he murmured to us both.
“Father, this is Faith. Faith, this is my father, Lucifer,” Gregor said, changing subjects quickly. Lucifer grabbed my hand and kissed the same place Gregor had months earlier.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Faith. My son is quite taken with you.”
“Well, I don’t know about that…” I nervously trailed off. Gregor’s hands found their way to my hips, holding me as if I might break at any moment. Lucifer’s eyes trailed down and stopped. A smirk stole over his lips before he said something in Latin that made Gregor’s hands tighten on my hips. Taking his hands into my own, I leaned back into Gregor’s chest. I had always found him comforting.
“I see someone is quite attached.”
“Excuse me sir, I think I need to go take a seat somewhere,” I said to Lucifer before turning to Gregor. “Will you escort me?”
“Of course, love,” he replied, taking me to a cushioned fainting couch. We sat close together, holding hands. A demon passed us by, nodding his head at Gregor. Gregor returned the favor. Snuggled up to him, I almost fell asleep, but a gong sounded/ Gabriel approached us.
“Dinner is served. Where has Leviatorian gone?” he said, stopping an inch from my right food.
“Outside, I believe,” Gregor responded, coldly. Nodding, Gabriel started for the door where the demon from earlier seemed to be napping. Gregor helped me up and we started for the dining room, but we didn’t reach the doorway until after Gabriel called Gregor’s brother a “no good sloth.” The dining room looked like it was from one of those from a movie all about the royalties of old. When I looked up at the ceiling I felt like I was in the Cistine chapel for a second, until I realized where I was.
“Grandfather was never one for modesty. Ironic, right?” Gregor murmured into my ear, escorting me to a chair that looked uncomfortable as Hell. I laughed quietly as he pulled my chair out like a gentleman. Taking my seat, I watched Gregor move with grace there was no way he could have. The Lord stood at the head of the table, holding a glass of red-violet liquid.
“A toast!” He exclaimed. “I have the entire family at my table for supper. This sight makes me so proud of being a Father and grandfather. The best thing about this, Family, is that Gregor has brought his brand new girlfriend home to meet the family. Thank you so much for coming. Now for the news: I have decided to postpone the Rapture again. There’s too much that’s wrong here in Heaven. A tornado has torn down half of the house and the gold needs to be polished like it had been.”
“Father, is this really necessary? We already know you want to see the Mortals with flying cars, hovercraft, and time travel before you want to take them out of that. We have and always will have whatever they have on Earth,” Lucifer said, standing. Gregor sunk his head in his hands and I placed my hand on his thigh. Patarion across from me sent me a smile before pulling out a joint.
“No weed in Heaven, Patarion,” God said without missing a beat. The grin he wore on his face went from ear to ear. I wasn’t too sure if I liked the grin, but the food appeared all at once. We ate the food like it was the only thing we’d see for years. Carefully avoiding the wine and berries, I dug into my salmon like it was the first I had ever had. The seasoning was almost perfect, but it was missing something.
“Love, you’re a goddess,” Gregor said, leaning over to whisper in my ear. I blushed bright red before filling my mouth with water.
“Why are you avoiding the wine, Faith?” Lucifer asked, sounding concerned. I swallowed the water before facing him.
“Oh, old habits I guess. I’m used to dealing with the Fae,” I replied respectfully. “Its not safe to drink anything alcoholic in their realm.”
“Oh yes, the Fae. They are perplexing. I created them in another realm before creating my Angels, but I just didn’t like trying to deal with them. Their abilities of skirting around the truth without actually lying made a monotheistic society nearly impossible,” God said, eating a bit of bread. The irony of watching him with the bread nearly made me laugh. I held it together better than I thought I ever could.
“Is bread a major staple here?” I asked, looking around for some rice.
“Yes. We don’t eat rice up here because its not really our thing. Lucifer loves it though,” God responded, buttering another slice. The tension I had been waiting for arrived full force against all of us. Gregor’s breathing changed to a rapid pace from a calm and collected one. God just continued eating as if there wasn’t a giant, purple-and-green polka dotted elephant in the room. Aparantly they had disputes over what was better to eat. It was interesting, but Gregor needed to calm down. His lips were pulled into a thin line that partially revealed the teeth he only showed when angry. Patarion across from us leaned forward in his seat, his hands crushing the wood of the arms of his chair. Getting home would be the better idea of any.
“Gregor, love,” I whispered, getting his attention. “Can we go home? I’m not feeling too well. There is too much energy in the room.”
In no time I was in Gregor’s arms on the way back to his vehicle. Gabriel followed, but couldn’t keep up with a Demon who wanted to make sure his lover was safe and sound. He barely stopped to open the door, or close it as the vehicle sped off. I wasn’t sure if there were any speed limits between dimensions, but if there were we could probably expect a ticket in the mail. If the demon dimension even had mail, anyway. Gregor never answered my question involving that.
As soon as we were home Gregor carried me to the bedroom we’d been sharing and started tending to my every fake need. It took him a few hours to realized that I had faked my problem for the sole reason of getting him to an environment that was healthier for him.
“You faker,” he murmured, snuggling up beside me. “You weren’t feeling badly at all.”
“No, but you were starting to go evil for a moment.”
“Darling, I am evil.”
“Only around your family,” I responded, laughing. Before he could lean down and kiss me a bright light appeared. The face of God appeared and he glared at us both on the bed.
“Why did you leave?”
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t want to sit in the tension any longer.”
“Oh. So that’s how it is. I feel nothing, but contempt,” he growled before disappearing. Shrugging, I snuggled further into Gregor’s arms and fell fast asleep.
The next few weeks went by fast, until we remembered the bitches on the top floor. The fridge was stocked, but only enough for a month, so we had to walk up the stairs with bags full of food. Knocking on the door caused absolutely nothing, so I slowly opened the door. Rachel attempted to slip out, but I shoved her against the wall where she let out a small “oof.”
“We brought you food,” I said, gesturing to the bags that Gregor had taken from me.
“I’ll eat none of your Devil food you whore,” Rachel growled through clenched teeth. She reached towards the counter and picked up a knife. With a loud roar, Rachel attacked me. Catching her with my left hand, I turned her around so that the knife pressed against her own ribs. The blade slowly slid up her back, causing her to bleed.
“We’re trying to help you,” Gregor said, walking over to the counter and placing the bags of food on it. “I haven’t figured out how to get you home, yet. Patience.”
“We don’t have much patience, Demon,” Claire said from the chair that faced away from us.
“Well, you need some. I have been very patient with you both, but its running out,” I responded, pulling the knife from Rachel’s hand and shoving her towards Claire’s chair. “Be careful. It might kill you. You can put your own damned groceries away.”
Gregor and I left the top floor. Seething, I practically ran back down to the bottom floor. Gregor arrived a few moments after I had thrown myself into a seat. He sat beside me, snuggling up as close as he could. I allowed myself to rest my head on his shoulder. I had always found him comfortable, but I didn’t think it was that bad. Before I knew it I was awake in our bed the next morning.
“Good morning, love.”
“Morning, Gregor. What happened?” I asked, scratching my head.
“Tried to attack me, didn’t they?”
“They did,” he said, walking over to the bed as I looked up. In his hands were two plates of chocolate chip pancakes with butter and syrup. “But that was just the idiot blond one.”
“Should I be worried?” I asked, yanking the plate he handed to me. Scooping the delicious substance known as chocolate and pancake batter into my mouth, I looked at him expectantly.
“Maybe a little,” he said, sitting beside me with his own. We ate in silence for a few moments before he leaned over and placed a big, sticky kiss to my cheek. Giggling, I playfully shoved him, but he caught me and pulled me into a loving hug. Pulling away, I took our plates of pancake remains down to the kitchen. A knock at the door stopped me from actually washing them.
I walked the short distance to the front shojo door and opened it.