Dancing With Monsters

by M. M. Gavillet

  Zoey had no special degree or important job. She liked to sing, tell stories and go on walks. She listened to Lyssa no matter how stupid it was or insignificant. Zoey seemed to relish it, living each day as if it was the last until one day it was.

  A note left on the kitchen counter explained unresolved issues from Zoey’s past had to be dealt with and she’d be back soon. That had been a year ago. Lyssa didn’t hate her for this. All of her “moms” left at one point, but she felt a piece of her was gone, incomplete and left to die on the vine. Lyssa would survive though, as she always did.

  Her dad was what you would just call a father figure. He didn’t play ball with her when she was little, and barely made it to any school functions when she was in grade school. He provided the necessary material things, but something about him seemed distant.

  He was never mean—just never there and a perfect equation for the freedom every seventeen year old craves. That would be great, but Lyssa wanted something more. She wanted the connection that never sparked between father and daughter.

  Why couldn’t he have just hung on to Zoey and she might still be here. Maybe he had so many girlfriends for her benefit, to teach her things he couldn’t. Did he care that much? Talking to her dad was like talking to the refrigerator. It opened and the light was on, but it was always cold and just functional—nothing more.

  The hour of reflection had come to an end, and Lyssa went downstairs. She put on her black wool pea coat Samantha gave her. Every girl had to have one because it goes for about every occasion Samantha told her. This was the first occasion she was wearing it to. Lyssa then walked into the cool autumn air. Grey clouds lingered refusing to give way to the brilliant blue underneath it.

  Lyssa’s house was on the edge of city limits where it opened to the rural areas surrounding Briarwood. Her rugged A frame house with a split rail fence was surrounded by thousands of flowers, shrubs and other flowering things. Her dad was obsessed with plants or actually whatever bloomed or had leaves. She often wished her dad would treat her like he did his plants—with love and nurturing. But Lyssa wasn’t a plant and had no leaves.

  The funeral home was a few blocks away, but she made it in good time. It was crowded as expected. She got in line to get in where it was standing room only.

  Bright flowers blanketed the inside in contrast to the black clothed sea of people. It was dimly lit, and pictures of the girl slowly shifted on a large T.V. Pictures shifted from family, friends, school events, her pets, to vacations—all of them she was smiling. It appeared to Lyssa, she had a full life that was cut short. She didn’t really know the girl personally, but saw her at school and she always seemed happy. “I would be happy to die if I had an ounce of her family life.” Lyssa thought to herself, even though it was morbid.

  Mournful gasps, along with soft crying, mingled with the gentle music playing overhead. Lyssa couldn’t cry for the girl even though she felt bad that she’d never go to college, have a family of her own and grow old with someone she loved. Lyssa opened the folded piece of paper she was given when she came in. The girl’s picture was on the front and inside told about how she enjoyed basketball, cheerleading, animals and 4-H. Her name was Lynsay Montgomery and she was too young to die.

  Lyssa stood in the back as she saw people from her class. A quiet somber filled the air. Alone, and quietly tilting her head down as prayers were spoken and stories fondly remembering the girl said with sobs of sadness and poems trying to give comfort to those who suffer her loss. Lyssa felt bad, but couldn’t cry. She didn’t know the girl very well, and really didn’t belong to any of the cliques at school. She was like the weird, dark colored puzzle piece that you know didn’t belong to the beach scene puzzle, but to some other puzzle. Lyssa had yet to find that box, and she was beginning to think she never would.

  Suddenly, she felt eyes on her. Lifting her head, she glanced to the right then left to find the most magnificent green eyes looking at her. They held her for only a moment and then like a summer cloud drifting across the sky, they left her with a bag of mixed emotions.

  Those mysterious pools of green eyes belonged to Toby. Her face flushed and hormones raced. She had liked him for a long time and before her emotions got away, she remembered where she was at—a funeral of a girl her age.

  Lyssa pulled her eyes away and glanced at the ground. She then lifted her eyes to Toby one more time as subtle as she could. He wasn’t looking at her so she let her eyes rest on him for a moment longer.

  His hair was the color of chocolate and his eyes look like uncut gems that leave you mesmerized. Lyssa never talked to him, but lately she had caught him looking at her in not just a casual way, but something different.

  She looked one more time at Toby hoping to catch him in a glance. Instead, her eyes met with his girlfriend, Megan. She was blonde, popular and beautiful. Lyssa quickly looked away. She could never compete with her.

  Lyssa discreetly moved closer to the exit and left, but not before she said a small prayer for the girl who she couldn’t cry for. She wasn’t sure if she felt wrong for not crying, but she still felt the same sorrow for the girl and her family. With a silent “amen” she left into the grey covered sky.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Toby. How their eyes met in the most sudden and enchanting way that could lead to conversation, but never did. It’s just as well. Toby was beautiful and perfect along with his beautiful and perfect girlfriend. They are Barbie and Ken and she was the generic, spinoff of a dime store Barbie with the dumb expression on her face, not nice like the genuine one. She’s a Barbie wannabe. Lyssa put her thoughts away. She had to think of something else to cool her emotions. She still hadn’t planned anything for dinner yet—that would take the edge off her feelings as well as doing the dishes afterwards.

  The clouds thickened letting a few drops of rain fall to the ground. A large drop went splat right on top of Lyssa’s head. It ran down the back of her neck making her shiver. She pulled her coat tighter. The well-manicured lawns, paved roads and security of people close by, gave way to fenced pasture grounds and slightly brushy areas with tall grass and a thicket of thorny hedge trees now lined the road.

  Lyssa house was more than a block away. Distant thunder rumbled threatening the promise of rain. Lyssa feared her wool pea coat would be ruined if she got caught in the rain. Quickening her pace, she thought she heard the patter of feet behind her. She stopped, looked around and saw nothing. Again, another raindrop plopped on her head. Again from behind, a warning of something more than just thunder—something was in the tall, swaying grass.

  Growling erupted from the thick timber. Lyssa couldn’t see what it was, but it was coming in her direction. The strengthening wind broke a dead limb that was quickly swallowed by the tall, delicate grass. More growls and what she thought must be paws of an animal, thumped on the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest. Whatever it was definitely was coming after her, and all she could think was mountain lion.

  Reports of Lynsay Montgomery’s death ran through her head. Her body was practically mauled, only identified through dental records, Lyssa’s dad who never paid any attention to her, would he even know she was gone? Only if there was no food in the house.

  She ran as fast as she could in her slightly heeled boots. Her run felt like she was in a nightmare when you couldn’t run any faster than a walk no matter how hard you tried. Rain began to come down in a steady pace.

  She didn’t look behind her, only kept her eyes fixed on the road and then her front door. The patter of feet thumped like a heart behind her throwing gravel into the air with each step. With her door in sight, she turned the knob thankful she forgot to lock it, and slammed it shut.

  Leaning against it, she caught her breath. Everything was quiet except for the rain outside. Lyssa felt stupid and shook her head laughing slightly at her own imagination. Why would a mountain lion be in this area anyhow? They like seclusion, to be sneaky and not seen by people. Her and her stupid scaredy-cat imaginat
ion. Then, something thumped on the door. Lyssa held her breath and whatever it was, began to scratch desperately. The scratching stopped followed by a pitiful meow.

  “Beyoncé,” Lyssa said opening the door to her tabby cat.

  She picked up Beyoncé scratching her head as she purred. “Sorry kitty,” she said letting the cat down.

  The cat jolted as soon as Lyssa let go of her. A cold wind gust funneled through the open door. Lyssa turned to shut it when all she seen was fur, teeth and claws coming at her. She fell to the hard wood floor with a thud. She would have screamed, but the air had been knocked from her lungs.

  Eli

  “The Body of Lynsay Montgomery was found Sunday along the banks of the Mississippi River. Her body brutally mutilated by what authorities believe was an animal attack. The town of Briarwood mourns for such a young life lost, and police are searching for the animal that had done this. Police warn residents to take precautions especially with small pets and children.” Eli read from an old discarded newspaper. “Animal attack,” he said questioning the papers words.

  “Stop with the language of Etherworldsers! It hurts our ears!” The Mog held his head in about the spot his ears would be.

  “Please don’t torture us!” The lighter mane Mog said.

  Eli looked at them holding their heads and slightly moaning. He let the paper go floating to the litter covered ground. Looking around at the overgrown landscape of weeds and twisted trees dotted with loose bits of paper, boxes and other unidentifiable things, some fresh and some half rotting, Eli thought Etherworlers were dirty beings with little regard to their homes. How could they do such a thing to their very own home? He had better hopes for them, but his first impression was that they simply didn’t care. He didn’t either; he was here for only one thing.

  “You idiots,” Eli said bringing the Mogs superstition induced ailment to an end. “This is the same language as the Fae. It won’t hurt you.” The Mogs slowly removed their hands from their heads.

  “Do you still have her scent?” Eli asked getting back to business.

  “It’s faint, but goes in that direction.” They both pointed behind Eli.

  Eli turned and went up the steep incline to the crest of the hill. A forest sat in front of him all thick and untamed. The littered ground seemed to only be contained within the hole they stood in. At least Etherworlders keep their rubbish in one place and didn’t live in it. For a moment he wondered about them, did they have any Faeish qualities to them? Were there any influences that they hung on to all of these years, or were the Fae just a myth to them now? Eli wanted to ponder this, but his business was with Lil and getting back what he had set out to get.

  “Follow it.” Eli commanded as the lighter mane Mog smiled, whisked him off his fee,t and onto its back.

  Eli clung to the thick haired Mog. The Mogs darted around trees, and crisscrossed paths like they were enjoying themselves. They were more likely trying to get rid of him and hoped a low branch would come in contact with his head. He would have to put a stop to their reckless travel.

  The forest became less dense, and Eli ordered them to stop. He got off and looked around wondering if he was close to the Etherworlders village, city or whatever living arrangements they had built themselves.

  Suddenly, a single voice echoed in the distance caught his attention. The voice was masculine in sound and seemed to be addressing a large group of Ehterworlders from his tone. Eli followed the voice until he barely came to the forests edge. They were dressed in black and a group of them were carrying a large wooden box. They embraced one another, crying and throwing flowers on the box as it went by. Eli took a step back and looked at the scene in front of him. The ground covered in rows of grey stones with markings on them, the wooden box and flowers.

  “The scent was strong here master. It is gone now,” The lighter mane Mog said stepping forward.

  Eli motioned for them to step back as he took one last look at the funeral procession. Faes did the same thing, only they committed their dead to the ground in a different way. Compassion must still exist between Etherworlders, Eli turned away looking up at the Mogs.

  “Find another scent. I want her,” Eli said determined to stop at nothing.

  Toby

  Toby looked around to see if Lyssa was still there. Her petite stature was easily swallowed up by the gauntly dressed people. He tried to be discreet so Megan wouldn’t notice. After about a half an hour, he realized Lyssa must’ve gone.

  Looking down at Megan’s hand interlocked with his, he wondered what was wrong with him. Lyssa Cleverthorn was a quiet, short and plain Jane of a girl, that is until he looked into her eyes.

  It was English Lit, and for no reason he looked back at her. Their eyes met on cue. Lyssa’s eyes were the color of a summer blue sky, the kind of day so nice; you wish you could bottle it up and open in the middle of winter. It was a poetic thought and appropriate for Lit class, but it went deeper than that. Toby felt a string, thin and delicate as a spiders silk connected them.

  He looked at her in a new light. Her hair had a reddish cast of copper flecks, especially in the sun, her delicate frame reminded Toby of his mother’s figurines of fairies that she had in her curio cabinet.

  Lyssa wasn’t like the girls he usually dated with make-up always on and perfect, the clothes they wore were skin tight and revealing, pushing the dress code to the limit. Lyssa didn’t fit the mold, but something deeper got his attention when he looked into her eyes.

  Toby tried so many times to stop, but couldn’t, something spark in him and he had no control over it. He closed his eyes erasing her image and looked over at Megan to replace it. She smiled at him as he looked her up and down.

  “Let’s go,” Megan whispered in his ear.

  “Go where?” Toby asked whispering in her ear and smelling her sweet perfume.

  “If you have to ask…” Megan playfully said running her finger down the front of his shirt allowing it to fall short of the top button of his pants.

  Heron Lake’s blue water reflected the oranges, reds and yellows of the trees framing it. The park was a major attraction for people during the summer with fishing, boating, and swimming. Now is sat vacant and quiet, perfect for couples in love to make love without being disturbed.

  Toby parked his truck overlooking Lake Heron on one of the many lookout points. Megan slid her hand over his arm and started to unbutton his shirt. Gently she kissed his stomach making it tickle slightly under her touch. This usually excited him, but his mind was a million different personalities away from Megan.

  Toby thought Megan was the perfect girlfriend, tall, blonde, a hot body and willing to have sex at the drop of a hat. He had only dated a few girls before Megan, and she was nothing like them. She had something different that he couldn’t place. It was in her voice, the way she walked and the way she barely touched his skin that electrified him. She made the first advances and like a little lap dog, Toby went along with whatever Megan wanted. He didn’t know why, and it irked him that she had that power over him. He simply couldn’t say no. Until only a few weeks ago, Megan was the only girl he really cared to look at, then something changed. Internally, a match was lit one day when he looked at Lyssa.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. We are going to the movies with Jake and Ann tonight. Pick me up at eight,” Megan said with her hair nearly covering her face sitting in front of Toby. “You need a bigger truck,” She said hitting her elbow on the window.

  “I am hanging out with Craig tonight,” Toby said feeling his plans already shattered. “And my truck is just fine.” He added.

  “Geez,” Megan said playfully. “Don’t get all hissy on me.” She smiled and kissed him hard on the mouth.

  Megan then started undoing his jeans, running her hand down the crease of his leg. Normally this would be perfect, except they just came from a funeral of a classmate and with Toby’s mixed emotions, it just didn’t feel right.

  “Stop,” Toby finally said.

  �
��Why?” Megan asked almost insulted.

  Toby ran his fingers through his hair, buttoned his shirt and gently moved Megan off of him as she huffed in protest.

  “We just came from a funeral, Lynsay Mongomery’s funeral,” Toby said starting the truck.

  “Yeah, well I’m sorry she’s dead, but she was a bitch and she always wanted you.” Megan’s pouty lips curled into a pouty smile.

  Toby looked out the window, shook his head and put the gear lever into reverse. He could feel Megan glare at him.

  “You are so lame,” Megan said defining each word as if trying to insult him. It didn’t work. He only gave a chuckle; Megan didn’t even know the meaning of lame.

  They rode in silence. Toby didn’t want to talk to Megan and glanced over at her a couple of times. Sitting with her arms crossed she looked like a spoiled child. Megan was just that, a spoiled child that he had as a hot girlfriend; a trophy he could show off. Yeah the sex was great, but he needed something more than that. For the first time in Toby’s life, being shallow wasn’t deep enough.

  Megan left with a slam of the door and Toby left with his tires spinning gravel. The more he thought of Megan, the more he began to not like her even though she was good looking. She was selfish and heartless not to mention cold. He knew Lynsay liked him, and he knew Megan hated her, but to say something bad about her was disrespectful. Toby couldn’t stand it anymore. Driving around town he stopped and got something to drink at Wild Bill’s Gas Station and drove some more.

  His aimless drive led to where the pavement ends and the openness of pasture grounds replace the cookie cutter ranch style homes that sit all in neat rows. He had been thinking about Lyssa more and more wondering what she was like. She was mysterious and quiet, uncharted ground for Toby who never really had a relationship based on anything but sex, drinking and partying. She was none of this and for some reason, captivated him. In front of a Yield sign, he looked down the desolate, gravel road that led to Lyssa’s house.