by Pete Kahle
It’s not a very good job, but it’s only temporary. I’m filling in for a lady who’s having a baby. I tried to think of something I like about this job, but really the only thing I like is that the temp agency pays weekly, so I have a little money now. One thing I hate is that I smell like sour milk when I get home.
Looking for a permanent job is problematic because I’m still not sure what I want to do. I know you’d say I should do something with my art, but art doesn’t pay the bills, Darling Brother. Who wants to buy pencil drawings that are mostly of horses? Nobody, that’s who.
But seriously Jason, I don’t want to be a receptionist forever, and I’m wondering if I should go back to school. Remember Annabelle, from the stationery place where I got laid off? I ran into her at the grocery store the other day. She got laid off too, and she told me that she’s going to the community college to finish her accounting degree. She said I should come with her to talk to the advisors, and see if I could go back to school too. I always figured that I couldn’t afford it, but Annabelle says there’s this thing where financial aid gives you grants if you don’t have any money, and your parents aren’t giving you any money. It’s what Annabelle is doing, because her dad left her in foster care when she was sixteen, after her mom died. It sounds a lot like what happened to us when Mom got sick. So maybe I can qualify too. I think I’m going to go with Annabelle to check it out on Saturday.
Jason, I have the strangest feelings about Annabelle. Remember when I told you about how clammy and shaky I got the day I lost my job? I thought it was the flu, and part of it was, but the part I didn’t tell you is that I always feel that way around Annabelle. I feel sick and nervous whenever she looks at me. I feel that way when I look at her too, but when she looks at me, right in my eyes, it’s the worst.
She has these big brown eyes, and it’s like they are looking right inside me. It makes me all jumpy. At the same time, I like being around her so much. She talks really fast, but sometimes she’ll pause, and say something (usually a joke) very slowly, then look up at me in this way that says, “I know you know what I mean,” and I do, and it’s like we’re the only two people who know.
I also like little things about her, like how she has rows of earrings in her ears that don’t match: four on one side, five on the other. She has smooth brown skin and perfect elbows. I bet you’ll say I have a crush on her, and maybe I do. I know that I’m lonely. Jason, I sure wish you were here. You’d help me figure it all out.
I should tell you about the bruise on my chest. It has gotten better, sort of, but it hasn’t gone away. By better, I mean the bruise itself is healing, but the lumps are still there, and still moving around when I sleep,
No, I still haven’t gone to the doctor. Between working, running errands, talking to Annabelle, and thinking about talking to Annabelle, I haven’t had the time. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, and I’m so used to covering it up that I forget it’s even there. But I know how you worry, Darling Brother, so I promise I’ll get it looked at soon.
I almost forgot – I finally got some cat food. You’ll be glad to hear that Ed is slightly less resentful of me, although he still glares and howls. Did I tell you he’s an orange cat? He’s actually quite distinguished-looking. Too bad he hates people. Or maybe he just hates me.
More later.
Love,
Tracy
# # #
June 1, 2014
Jason,
I’m so sorry I waited so long to write. Some really crazy things have happened. I don’t exactly know where to start. The first thing you should know is that I’m okay, at least for now.
The last time I wrote, I think I was still working at the dairy, and I think I told you that my bruise was getting better. I know I told you that whatever was inside my skin was moving.
Well, what happened next is the pain stopped, but the skin covering the lumps got thinner and thinner. At first I thought I had developed new bruises, but what I was seeing were the colors of the thing underneath. I was terrified. I had to call in sick to work because I was afraid someone else would see it.
By then, it was moving often enough that I could watch it writhing under my skin. It was most active in the morning and just before I went to bed. When it moved, I not only saw its color, but its shape. Remember how the lumps were sharp and pointy? Those are its legs.
I woke up late on a Friday night to hear Ed making a screeching sound, much worse than his usual yowling. It was high-pitched, like a baby screaming. When the noise stopped, all I could hear were scrabbling and crunching noises. I was so frightened that at first I didn’t notice the hole in my chest. I was sitting up in bed, hardly breathing, listening to those awful sounds, when I first felt the stinging. I looked down and saw my chest was covered in blood. I put my hand up to the wound and there was a large indentation there. The blood made it look worse than it actually was. When I took my t-shirt off, I could see that there were some shredded strips of skin around the indentation, but underneath the skin was pink and unbroken. The indentation was deep enough that I could have fit my whole fist in there.
You see, Darling Brother, that’s where the creature was living, before it broke free from me.
That night I found it crawling on the ceiling. The easiest thing to compare it to is a crab without pinchers. It is green, yellow, purple and blue, just like my bruise. On its back, it has a hard round shell, like a beetle. It has eight legs. There is fur on its belly, and tiny green eyes arranged in a circle around its mouth, which is where its stomach should be. It has very sharp teeth, Jason. Sharp enough to bite through my skin the first time it got out. And it’s fast. Fast enough to catch Ed, and mean enough to cut him to pieces with its sharp teeth and the pointed ends of its legs.
I know I complained about Ed, Jason, I know I said he was a terrible cat, but I miss him. He wasn’t cuddly, but he was company. And he didn’t deserve to die like that. The thing ate him, Jason. There wasn’t anything left, not even fur, a just streak of blood through the kitchen, like you’d see in an old-fashioned butcher shop.
I guess it must be a type of spider, because from up on the ceiling, it spun a little filament of web, and dropped down to look at me. I should have been afraid then, I guess, but it seemed more curious than anything, and we just looked at each other.
“What did you do to Ed?” I asked it. It hissed in response. “You shouldn’t eat cats.”
The strangest thing is that I felt like it understood me. We stared at each other for a few moments, and then it reached a leg out toward my shoulder. Without thinking about it, I cupped my hand around its back, and pulled it toward my chest. It settled in to the indentation, curled up, and went to sleep. Most of the time that’s where it stays. I wear high-collared shirts so no one can see it. At first, I called it “The Creature” in my head, but now I just call it Creature, so I guess that’s its name.
It’s looking at me right now, sitting on the counter while I write at the kitchen table, and making that hissing noise. It hasn’t hurt me yet and it’s been a few days, so I don’t think it’s going to. I guess I’ll find out. I don’t know what I’m going to do – I think it’s still hungry.
I really wish you’d write back.
- Tracy
# # #
June 21, 2014
Jason,
I’m writing to let you know that I’m still alive, and doing pretty well in fact.
Creature and I had to get used to each other, which was hard at first. When she (I think she’s a she, because I’m a she) is resting inside me, the skin grows back across the top of her after a day or two. I can tell when she gets really hungry because she gets fidgety in my chest. I’ve discovered I can peel my skin back to let her out if I’m careful, which is better than her tearing me up. I tried feeding her fresh hamburger, but she’ll only eat live food, so I’ve started buying the little white mice they sell at the pet store for snakes. I feel bad about it, but it’s better than Creature eating the neighborhood ca
ts. I leave the room when she eats because I can’t stand to watch. She’ll eat six or seven at a time. She likes to chase them.
I’m still really mad about Ed, Jason. If you had warned me that this was going to happen, I might not have gotten the cat, and Ed might be living with a nice family who would never feed him oatmeal, and he’d have lived to a nice old ripe age.
I can’t help but feel attached to Creature though, even if she ate my cat. After all, she came out of me. And really, she’s not so bad, except for the when she eats the mice. It’s nice having someone to talk to who’s with me all the time. She’s a part of me, even though I don’t completely understand her, or what she’s for, at least not yet.
But I have a feeling you know, Darling Brother.
Remember when I first told you about the feeling of Creature growing in my chest? I wish now you’d written me back about that feeling, Jason. I think you know what it was, that you knew all along this would happen to me, and if I’m right, I can’t help but be angry that you didn’t warn me.
Why didn’t you?
I’ve been thinking a lot about when you went away. You left right after I graduated from high school, and you’d gotten really sick that summer, do you remember? You had this horrible flu, and I was so scared because you wouldn’t let me take you to the hospital. You stayed in your room in the dark for almost two weeks. I was working at the drugstore at the time, and I had to leave you during the day so I wouldn’t get fired, and I felt awful about it.
Then one day I came home and you were gone. You’d left me the bank account information, and this post office box number, but you didn’t explain. Did you ever wonder how I felt about that? I think you must have.
The money you left helped a little, but you had to have known I couldn’t stay in the apartment with my salary, so I had to leave. I never told you this, but I was so angry with you that I threw all your things in the dumpster when I moved. I told myself I wouldn’t write to you, but I ended up missing you so much I did anyway. Since you never answered my questions in your letters, I got used to just telling you about me. I even stopped wondering where you were and what you were doing. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready, and I was just glad to know you were okay.
But now I think I know why you never told me anything. Did something like this happen to you too, Jason?
Remember Annabelle? Well, the first few days after Creature got loose, I was a mess. It was like I was paralyzed, or in shock. I stayed inside my apartment. I couldn’t figure out what my next step should be. I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t go anywhere. Who was I supposed to ask for help? I worried that Creature would kill them, or they’d kill her, or take her away. As nightmarish as she is, I couldn’t let that happen. She’s part of me, and she’s mine.
Eventually Annabelle came looking for me since I wasn’t answering her calls or texts. She really is a wonderful person, Jason. I hope you get to meet her soon. On the afternoon of the third day, she knocked on my door. At first I wasn’t going to answer, but I heard her voice through the door, and I was so lonely, even with Creature for company. I thought, “What the hell,” and let her in.
At first she just hugged me and said, “Tracy, what’s going on, hon? Where have you been? Are you okay?” I couldn’t answer. I was just glad she was there. Then Creature started stirring. I think Annabelle felt her, because she pulled away and looked at me in a questioning way. I took a deep breath.
“Can I show you something?” I said. “I’m warning you, it’s weird.”
“Sure, Tracy! You can tell me anything – “
“No, Annabelle. This is really strange. Like, freak show. Only worse. And you can’t tell anyone. You have to promise me.” I made her promise a bunch of times, and then I showed her Creature.
At first I was scared Creature would try to hurt her (I hadn’t figured out the mouse thing yet), but Creature, in general, listens to me pretty well, so I just whispered, “Be gentle,” before I let her out. I took off my shirt, and Annabelle could see right off that something wasn’t right with my chest. I thought she’d run away screaming, but she just looked curious. By then I’d figured out how to release Creature without hurting myself, so I picked at a little corner of my skin to open it up, and Creature stretched a long leg against my collarbone. Then, ever so slowly, she crept out of me, and crawled up to my shoulder. I watched Annabelle’s face, just waiting for her to scream, or run away, or worse, but she just looked at Creature, and with that same curious look, she said, “Trippy.”
Trippy. That’s how she reacted. I told you Annabelle is wonderful.
Creature was looking at Annabelle, too, all crouched up on my shoulder, with a few of her legs waving around like antennae. Creature has tiny little hairs on her legs that are very sensitive. They’re a bit like a cat’s whiskers, I think. After they’d studied each other for a few seconds, Creature extended one pointy little leg toward Annabelle.
Annabelle smiled, and reached out a finger. Creature and Anabelle touched, finger to leg, and it was like they were shaking hands. Then Anabelle smiled at me.
“Is this it? Is this what you were afraid to show me?”
Jason, I was absolutely flabbergasted. Here I was, terrified, all alone with this monster growing inside me, and crawling out of me whenever it wanted, and this girl just acts like it’s a little trippy, but no big deal. I didn’t know what to say.
Annabelle must have understood because the next thing she did was look all concerned. “Oh, honey,” she said, “you didn’t know?”
“Know what?!” I wailed. Nothing made sense, and I was desperate for her to explain. Annabelle looked like she was going to say something, but instead she took off her coat. Underneath she was wearing a halter-top that showed off her beautiful round shoulders, and also the dragon tattoo on her back. The dragon starts in the middle of her spine, and curls up around her shoulder blade.
She turned her back to me so I could see the tattoo, then she curved her other arm around, and started picking at the edges of the ink. With one long pink fingernail, she lifted up the tattoo like it was a sticker. She peeled her skin away until I could see something underneath.
At first, it looked like the rainbow part of a seashell, but then it was more like a dragonfly. Tiny wings unfolded from her body, and I saw they were attached to a small creature of her own, a little less horrifying than mine. Annabelle’s creature is named Lola.
Lola has dragonfly wings, but no arms. Her legs and feet look like a small chicken’s, but they are white. She has a head almost like a person’s, but without hair, and no nose. Her eyes are huge, and multifaceted like a fly’s. Her mouth has rows of tiny sharp teeth, and a tongue that shoots out like a frog’s. She eats mostly bugs, Annabelle says, but she’ll also eat small birds.
I learned all this later on. That day, all I could do was stare as Annabelle coaxed Lola out of the space between her shoulder blade and spine. I watched as Lola crept out, yawned, and then perched atop Annabelle’s beautiful shoulder.
Annabelle smiled at me, and I knew everything was going to be okay.
We had a long talk that night, Jason, and I learned a lot. Annabelle is teaching me all about what it means to be one of us. I’m doing okay now, but if I hadn’t found Annabelle, I don’t know what would have happened.
This is a talk we should have had, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why we didn’t.
But we’ll have our talk soon, Jason, because I’m not waiting around for you anymore. Anabelle is coming with me, and together we will find you.
I’ll see you soon, Darling Brother.
Love,
Tracy
Erin Michelle Jendras is a writer of speculative fiction, poetry, and magical realism inspired by the miraculous found in the mundane. She has lived in various places all over the western United States, and currently resides near Boulder, Colorado. She has been published in Cicada magazine, several online journals, and in 2007 received a fellowship award to the Vermont St
udio Center for fiction and poetry.
When she isn’t writing, you can find her reading, drinking copious amounts of coffee, enjoying the Rocky Mountain Wilderness, and mothering a tiny human that fortunately bears no resemblance whatsoever to Creature.
A List of Grey
and Crimson
by Jared Oliver Adams
The sun was just cresting the horizon, shedding electric blue light on the forested peaks behind Danielle’s house, but leaving her Monoa valley neighborhood in dim shadows. A mug of coffee steamed before her on the rickety glass table of her patio as she watched dawn unfold, advancing down the mountainside, bringing the leaves of the trees into brilliant green Technicolor.
Oahu was a beautiful place. Paradise really. But the beauty of it brought an ache too, because soon the kids would be up, soon the day would start, soon this bright new morning would dull into grey monotony.
The coffee mug was warm between her hands, and the thick sleeves of her bathrobe were damp where they touched the dewy edge of the table. She sipped from her mug and watched the sun, trying to soak in the peaceful trilling of the birds, the soft breeze against her cheeks.
When the sunlight extended down into the valley and sent the shadow of her house stretching across her overgrown little backyard, she knew she couldn’t stall any longer. Gregory, Bryce, and Cheyenne would be getting up anytime now.