by RJ Gonzales
I used to keep a diary. Not daily, like others. But every so often, I’d crack it open and write something so that I could see the words and feel them in person, just to know that they were real and not just in my head anymore. The day my sister died was the last day I’d written in it. Somewhere in my drawer, back in my small purple-walled room in Del Rio, the last page of my old diary reads:
A flower bloomed, already wilting.
Beginning its life, with an early ending.
...
I lied awake on my bed. Too tired to read more pages into the book or continue drawing my sketches—just thinking of the brief encounter with the wolf. Had it wanted to do so, I could have been dead within a few seconds and it would have been getting its fill. Tearing off strips of flesh from my lifeless body to satisfy its hunger as it chewed each bite—ripe with fresh blood.
What had stopped it? The headstone? What did this signify to the wolf? Too many questions!
Scratch, Scratch, Scratch. A sound arose from the back door. Probably just a branch scratching against the wall, I thought.
The sound disappeared and I rested my head on the soft pillow, turning onto my side. Scratch, Scratch. There it was again, this time softer. I chose to ignore it and adjusted myself again. Scratch, Scratch, Scratch, Scratch, Scratch, Scratch—Thunk!
“What the hell!” I stammered, throwing the duvet off of me.
I flipped the small porch light on and threw open the door.
The bucket of supplies I had abandoned in the forest was sitting near the edge of the stairs. I whipped my head up—trying to seek out the person who had put them there, but all throughout the darkness I could only hear a set of hastening footsteps as they entered the forest.
Jett
4
I wasn’t supposed to be here—but I was anyway.
I just couldn’t help it. I watched the girl from behind a bush. Her face was both shocked and confused as she found her things sitting on the porch. I felt bad for what I had done. It wasn’t fair for me to have scared the living hell out of her, when all she was doing was cleaning the stone of my brother. The fallen. The gone, but never forgotten part of my life that I miss each and every passing day. If anything, I should of thanked her, but I was already in my animal form, roaming around the forest on one of my many lone walks when I’d gotten a hold of her scent nearby.
This was what I am. A freak. A monster. I knew she wouldn’t understand. Wouldn’t accept the fact that I am different—unlike her in so many ways. The others back at our cabin by the lake had warned me not to explore this part of the forest anymore when the humans moved in. But as usual, I didn’t pay any attention to them. And besides, if I hadn’t, I never would have stumbled across her.
Her sweet scent, drifting about the air that night, tempted my senses. She smelled—delicious—mouth-watering even. An aroma redolent of a tropical array of fruits. From far away, she smelled of fresh pineapples. As I neared it turned to subtle coconut and lime. But when I’d come from the bushes and gotten within a few feet from her, all the scents blended into a sweet, tempting aroma that made my mouth water. Our kind swore we’d never eat any of the humans again—made a promise to ourselves and the people before them. Long before her. Long before me. It was part of the pact. Not that I wanted to eat her. My mind thought of other things I could do with her. Things I had yet to experience, but was exceedingly curious to try.
I had stood silently—hidden in the forest, watching her struggle with the box that night. At the mere scent of her blood, I felt my feet overpower me. I found myself heading toward her, unable to stop. I was drawn to her like a fly to a bug zapper. My animalistic instincts kicking in.
She was helpless—a newborn fawn left to fend for itself from a large beast twice its size. I could have killed her in seconds had I had the mind to. But, I didn’t.
Then, as I caught sight of her breathtaking eyes—looking to me from the ground, I felt the human side of me push through. Golden-green, and shining like stars in the moonlight. Had I not been well-poised, I might of even buckled at the knees at the mere sight of them. She was not the girl I expected her to be from far away. No. Up close she was spectacular. She looked like a woman taken from a vintage Hollywood film. Lengthy wavy dark brown hair that curled at the tips in gentle rings that I wanted reach out and touch. A gorgeous pair of eyes and the face of an angel. Soft features, well-defined nose, full light-pink lips, and full breasts that I couldn’t help but glance at in between the moments she would turn her gaze away. She had some meat on her bones, and I liked that. A well curved woman with the body shape of an hourglass. The classic image of a sexy woman. Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor—all the vixens back then had this voluptuous figure.
She carried herself well in a confident stride—well, up until she fell at least. A rare gem to find. One that I felt as though I needed to keep and hold tightly in my hand, never ever letting go.
Upon conversing with her, I found her to be very down-to-earth. I could easily see myself with someone like her. However, I know she could never see herself with something like me. It was just how things were meant to be, I suppose.
Yes, I am part human—to an extent. But there is another side to me that I’m sure would frighten her deeply. In books, my kind are referred to as hybrids. Beings of both human and animal. A species that accelerated far past the humans and animals during evolution. So fast, in fact, that one species became merged with the other. Bonding, and therefore spawning our species.
There was a time long ago—very long ago, when we shared this land with the humans. Before the humans crafted weaponry and became filled with arrogance and greed for the majority of land. Taking nearly all of it for themselves, and forcing us to be banished to a small nation of islands off the coast of Florida, visible only in the light of the moon. A mystifying part of land that has been kept secret by only a select few humans throughout history across the world, which they later on divided up into their own countries. Guess the greediness didn’t end with us.
The human children do not learn of our land, which later became known as Mundahlia, in their geography books. Nor does the rest of the world even know of our existence. However, our images have been embedded in ancient ruins. Ruins that beings like myself helped build. As much as the humans tried to erase our existence, their own history foretells of our kind. The Egyptians worshipped us as gods and forever marked our images on their pyramid walls in hieroglyphics or statues. Anubis, Horus, Sobek, and others were the names they used—referring to the jackal, falcon and crocodile hybrids of our kind that were in their region at the time. The Greeks and Romans had their own interpretations of us in their mythology. Mermaids, Centaurs, Minotaurs, Fauns, Sirens and more are what they referred to us as. The Mayans eternally inked us in their temples, where beneath all the traps and trick passages within their great temples, lies even more secrets of our kind than one could possibly imagine. The Native Americans spun fables of us skinwalkers around campfires, telling of a kind that had the spirit and ability to shift into the form of an animal at will. Our kind does in fact exist. We just exist in the outer boundaries of the world’s vision, alongside other species of beings that were deemed unacceptable in the eyes of the majority at that time—the humans.
She retrieved the bucket from the floor—still scanning the forest for the person who’d set it there for her to see. Me. Wearing a T-shirt two sizes too big that cut off a few inches below her waist. Her lengthy legs and teased hair could easily be perceived as seductive. I crave for this. This sickening emotion so many others her age fool themselves to believing they’re in. I crave love. And so far, all my life, that hunger has been nothing more than a feeling. A feeling of emptiness that no matter what I do, can never be filled when I am alone. I want her.
Who am I kidding? I scolded myself, retreating from the bush and heading back home on all four paws. I am a creature of another kind. It would never be possible. We aren’t supposed to coexist together, let alone have a
relationship. They have their world, and we have ours. End of story.
Rini
5
The next morning, I waited for Sarah to pull up the road. It took a while, but as soon as I heard the loud, bass-blasting music coming from down the dirt trail—I knew it had to be her.
“Hey!” she yelled out of the window of her beat up car before it even came to a full stop. It was a metallic dark blue, with scratches and dents all around. She spotted me eyeing a massive dent in the passenger side of the vehicle below the hood. “Yeah, as you can see, I’m not that great of a driver. I hit a garbage can the other day. Not like a house one, those big green ones outside shops and stuff.”
How did she not see—“Remind me why I’m about to get in a car with you as the driver?” I said. “I’m only eighteen and have a future ahead of me.”
“Because…” She lost train of thought. “Just get in. Believe me, you’re safer in here than you are out there.”
When I entered the vehicle, a strong smell might as well of struck me directly in the face—completely unexpected. “What reeks?” I said, holding a hand over my nose. It smelled like the inside of a trash can mixed with rotten eggs. Did you literally drive into the damn trashcan? I wanted to say, but kept it in.
Sarah dug through the CD holder attached to the visor. “Do you really want to know?” she asked. “This was my brother’s car before. I’m sure there’s a can of Lysol on the floor somewhere.”
I shifted my feet across several crumpled papers and wrappers of food tossed on the ground. “And where would the floor be?”
“Hmm. Good question. What do you want to listen to?” She got frustrated with the visor holder and unlatched it, bringing it to her lap.
“It doesn’t matter.” The smell seemed less potent now—that or I had gotten used to it, so I removed my hand and set it at my side.
“Eighties hair bands it is then.” Sarah jolted the car forward sending gravel flying from the spinning tires. I held on to the door for my dear life for the rest of the ride.
When we got to the café—and I managed to get my hand unclenched from the door handle—the short lady at the front, or Sarah’s mom, Dina, greeted us. Well, me. She only nodded to Sarah.
“Hello sweetheart, come on in,” she said.
The familiar essence of coffee and various spices, floated amongst the large open room filled with empty tables and chairs. There were still about twenty minutes until it opened and would be flooded with customers. Sarah handed her bag to a stocky man with a thick mustache and hairy caterpillar looking eyebrows standing next to the cashier. “Here, pops.” She turned to me with her hand outstretched. “Yours?” I handed her my purse—watching as the man put them under the counter for safe keeping.
“Are there uniforms?” I asked, suddenly realizing everyone but me, donned a black t-shirt with the café name on it in white lettering.
“Yeah. Go to the bathroom. I’ll take you yours in a bit.”
I did as instructed and walked through the wooden doors of the ladies' room.
“Here ya go!” Sarah said upon entering the bathroom some time later. She tossed me a T-shirt a few sizes too big.
“What the hell!” I said, looking at excess fabric that made it look like a dress.
“Yeah—it’s sort of the only one we had left.” She said putting a hand behind her head. “The waitress that left was sorta pregnant.”
“It’s fine.” I took the rest of the fabric and knotted it until it was at a good feel.
“Smart!” Sarah exclaimed. “Very smart!”
Sarah then went on to explain to me the basics of taking orders and where to place them, where all the things were located, and how to jiggle the coffee pot free from the machine just right so it wouldn’t sputter on my shirt and burn me with scalding water. When I returned from getting taught in the kitchen, some seats were already filled—the rest filling slowly. People were pouring from the door into the restaurant like a wave of water.
“Your tables are all the ones on the left.” Sarah handed me a pen and notepad. “Are you ready for all the chaos that will more than likely ensue?”
No. “Yes.”
“Coolness! Now go, go, go!”
I took a deep breath. Today was going to be a long day.
I invited Sarah to the cabin after work. She was more than excited when she saw it. “This is awesomeness to the max! I would kill to have my own place where I didn’t have to hear my sister’s annoying whining when she throws her fits.” Sarah was wandering around the cabin inspecting all the rooms. She looked out the back door. “Eww,” she stated, “I could do without the creepy scenery in the back, though.”
“It gets creepier,” I continued. “Yesterday, I went for a walk and almost got attacked by a wolf.” I may have stretched the truth about just “going for a walk” but I’m not too sure she’d buy the “cleaning a headstone” truth and this was too new a friendship to end so quickly.
“Ooo. Craziness! You know I heard about this group of friends that got mauled by these creatures a few years ago—all they found were the remains. The news said it was some wild animals, but I think it was something more mysterious.” I gave her a look that said, well gee Sarah, now I feel much better about living alone in the middle of butt-crack nowhere. “It wasn’t in Texas though, it was in some other state—or possibly even in another country.” Sarah was now lying upside down on my bed as I fetched my pajamas. Something was on her mind. “So yeah, all random and what not, but—Spring Break weekend, we should totally have a sleepover here at your casa.”
“Yeah, sounds like fun,” I smiled. The less time alone the better.
“Sweetness!” Sarah looked at her phone for the time. “Shit! I best be on my way before my mom flips her lid at how late I’m out when there's school in the morning.” Sarah jingled the keys on her finger before embracing me in an awkward friendly hug, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, okay?”
“All right, bye Sarah.” The door shut, and the eerie loneliness settled in again. Pushing any feelings of happiness or safety that may have still been lingering around the room, away.
In the shower, I washed away all the stress from my first, and probably last day of work. My first customers were an old couple—pleasantly polite. Set me off to a good morning—only to come crashing down early in the game. The second customers had the most irritating little boy who managed to throw syrup on everything but the pancakes I’d set in front of him. Had he been my kid, that would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. But, of course, his mom just smiled and admired her son being a little tyrant. Using “he’s just being silly” as an excuse. After the fifth customers, I stopped counting. I had few thing on my mind at the time—home. My bed. Sleep. And to try the very best not to smack that one kid upside the head.
I brushed my hair free of tangles before climbing under the soft silky comforter that felt like liquid against my bare legs. Pure bliss. I picked up my book, which I felt as though I had pretty much abandoned, and read a few chapters before my eyes grew heavy. I felt like I was forcing myself to finish the book, which was about a kind, handsome, Mr. Sexy cowboy that was forced to take care of a snobby princess from a small island after things on her land got dangerous. It sounded promising, but when the girl confesses her love for the guy upfront within the first three chapters, it sorta turned my book interest off. Girl, wait until you leave your damn island and the people who want you dead until you focus on kissing his “tender, and silky” lips as the book so effortlessly put it. But, I had to admit that I still secretly loved the cheesiness and the romantic scenes.
I set the book on my side table and turned off the lamp. The moonlight cast a grayish light into my bedroom—spilling onto the wooden floor. It’s rectangular shape was well defined. The shadow of a branch, wiggling in the wind outside, looked as though it were scratching at my floor. I blinked a few times before closing my eyes to yawn. Upon opening them—a figure of a human’s shadow appeared in the light spread on the f
loor. It stood still. Just peering through the window as if I were on display at a zoo. I felt like screaming, but instead, I watched in silence as the figure stared for a few seconds more then took a few steps back and disappeared. No sleep for me tonight! Crap.
Jett
6
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t resist the urge to peek into the girl’s window and sneak another glance. This was a fault that I had. Once something has caught my interest, I can’t stop until I know what it is, how it was made, or how it functions. This case being a who. Who is she once you get to know her? What does she like? Multiple questions popped into my head. Her name. Why hadn’t I asked for her name that night. Is she a Jennifer? A Michelle? I needed to figure it all out. Her face was already slipping since it was so new to me, and I needed to refill that fading face again. Just a little peek.
From what I remember: she likes to read, her eyes are breathtaking, and she’s only here temporarily while her parents are away. Temporarily—meaning not lasting forever or long period of time. Meaning soon she will be gone.
I made sure she was asleep before I snuck a peek into her window. A little stalker-ish, I’ll admit but something about her peeked my interest level. The window was too high for me to see in my animal form, so I had to switch to my human form for the extra height. I could feel the cold air, brushing against my bare body as I leaned in closer to get a better look inside. I was wrong. She wasn’t asleep. At least not yet. I saw her stiffen at the sight of my shadow, cast across the wooden floor inside. Crap. I’ve done it again. I’ve gone and messed it up. I stood still for a few moments, unsure of what to do next, then backed away—sprinting off into the forest in my animal form. I need to stop scaring her—it’ll only drive her away. I need to talk to her—need to see her again. But how?