by Marva Dasef
“Nice day,” she commented, glancing up at the cloudless sky.
“Uh, yeah.” Oh, brilliant, Mac thought. That was certainly charming. “I mean, yes, it is a beautiful day. Much nicer than yesterday, what with the rain and all.” Again, he winced at his own clumsiness.
“Yes, it is much nicer than yesterday. Still, I like the rain sometimes. It washes all the dirt and dust away; it leaves things fresh and clean–like today.”
“Oh, yes, definitely. I agree with you completely.” Arrghh, what an idiot!
“I’m new to the neighborhood. Have you lived here long?” Why was she still talking to him? By this time, most women would be sitting in stony silence.
“Yes, about ten years. I live in those apartments.” He gestured the half block up to his building.
“Oh, really! I live there, too! Then, hello neighbor. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled broadly, flashing perfect white teeth. “I’m Lily.” She held out her hand to shake.
“Ma...Mac. That is Mackay.” He bit his lip to halt the stutter. “I mean my last name is Mackay. Everyone calls me Mac. My first name’s Paul.”
“I like the name Paul,” she murmured. “May I call you Paul?”
“Oh, of course, sure. I mean Mac is just a nickname. Heh, heh, call me anything you want!” He cringed inside again. Back off. Don’t be too pushy or you’ll scare her off.
They sat in silence for a few moments while his mind scrambled to come up with more conversation, anything to hear her speak.
“So, where do you work? Well, I mean, you don’t have to tell me, you know. But I’m not a stalker or anything.” Blast it! Why couldn’t he keep his foot out of his mouth?
“Not at all. I work for an ad agency. I’m a Demographics Analyst.”
“Sounds interesting.”
She asked the question he didn’t want her to ask. “What do you do?”
“Oh, I...I’m temporarily between jobs. Just looking for the right opening.” Mac glanced at her and saw her head turn away. “But, but I do some freelance work...programming, web pages, stuff like that.”
“I think it’s wonderful when a man can be his own boss. I’m sure you’re the hardest supervisor you ever worked for.” She laughed at her little joke and he melted again and laughed with her.
“I suppose I am.”
“Well, here’s my bus. Are you taking this one?”
“Uh, no, I’m waiting for the cross-town.”
“Well, then, I enjoyed meeting you and I suppose we’ll be seeing each other a lot since we’re neighbors.”
He waved as she climbed on the bus. On the top step, she stopped, turned, and smiled at him again. Devastation. She was gone. He felt like the clouds had rolled in and covered up his sun. “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Lily is the sun.” He didn’t think Will would mind a minor change to his line. He had no illusions he was some Romeo, but now he knew how the young man felt.
His bus arrived. He clumped up the steps and showed the bus driver his pass. The bus was nearly full, so he knew he’d have to stand. That was so hard on his knees, but there wasn’t any way around it. He needed an entire seat to himself. His neck burned as he felt the disapproving glances of the riders, relieved he didn’t try to sit next to them. None of them bothered moving. He accepted that as the way of his life.
* * *
It was going on five o’clock. He’d pulled a chair up to his window where he’d be able to see the bus arriving. A half hour went by and two busses rolled through without stopping.
Finally, the last commuter bus pulled up and Lily stepped down. She turned and waved to somebody, maybe the driver, then started up the sidewalk to the apartment building.
Mac jumped up from his chair, knocking it aside, and hurried out to the hallway. He punched the elevator button anxiously, hoping he wouldn’t be too late. The elevator was coming down, so he got lucky and caught it on the way. The car stopped on the ground floor and when it opened...his Juliet, his sun was standing before him.
“Well, hello, Lily. Fancy meeting you here.” He tried to sound light-hearted and, most of all, surprised to see her.
“Paul! How nice to see you.” She smiled the smile that melted his heart.
He stood in the elevator doorway and suddenly realized that he had to get out to let her in. But she stood right in the way and he couldn’t go around. He cursed his grossness, how fat he was.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m in your way.” She moved to one side to let him out.
“Thank you,” was all he could manage as she stepped into the elevator. She gave him a last smile as the doors closed. He stood watching the floor numbers light up as the elevator ascended. It stopped on the fourth floor, just one floor up from him.
Waiting a moment, he then pushed the button. He rode the car to his floor and went back to his empty apartment.
The next day, he was at the bus stop plenty early. She came and they chatted. It was becoming easier for him. She was so kind, so wonderful. She listened to him as he talked about his life and he listened as she told him about hers. Over the days, they met every morning at the bus stop, every evening in the lobby of the building.
Then a miracle happened.
“Paul, I was wondering if you’d like to come up to my place for dinner some evening. We’ve become such good friends in these little meetings, I thought we would enjoy spending more time together.”
He was dumbstruck. She was asking him for a date?
“Oh, you mean you’re having a party. Having friends over?”
“No, I mean just the two of us. Would Saturday work for you?” She smiled, he melted.
“Why of course. That would be terrific. I’ll bring some wine, if you like.”
“That would be nice. I think we’ll be having fish. I hope you like halibut.”
“Well, you can see food and I are on good terms. I’ll get a white wine, then.”
* * *
On the big day he hurried to the Men’s Big and Tall shop and found a decent pair of pants and jacket to wear. A new shirt. A tie? Yes, a tie would be right. Did he remember how to knot one?
He showed up at her door exactly at seven. The expensive white wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. He felt giddy. Were the flowers too much? Oh, well, he was here now, so he tapped on the door.
His vision, his dream opened the door quickly and stood aside to let him in. She put her hands to her face in what he considered to be an endearing way. “Flowers! Oh, Paul. That is so sweet.”
She took wine and flowers from his hands as he just stood there staring at his lovely Lily. She wore a white dress, he thought it was a shirtwaist, if he recalled correctly. A belt wrapped around her incredibly tiny waist as her hips swelled just the right amount below and her chest just the right amount above.
The small apartment was the same setup as his, so he knew where everything was. The dining table was set with beautiful flowered china, crystal wine and water glasses, and elegant silverware. A lit pair of candles were centered of the table.
Now, he had seen enough movies to know a romantic setting when it was presented. Visions of Bogart and Bacall. No, Cary Grant and Natalie Wood. Elegance, grace, and style. Suddenly, he felt ugly, fat, and awkward. He was so far from being Cary Grant it was pitiful. He wondered how he could have thought...
“Sit, won’t you?” she asked and sat herself on the couch. He hesitated and examined it closely. He was quite expert at determining what would hold his weight. Reassured by its overstuffed size, he gingerly placed himself at one end. She slid across the couch to his side. Laying her arm across the back of the couch, she turned her body toward him.
They chatted for a while just as they did at the bus stop. It was thoroughly pleasant, and he began to relax. He would put aside the fact he loved this woman and be the friend she so clearly wanted him to be. He could not harbor any illusions.
While they talked, he let his eyes wander for brief moments around t
he room. What would it tell him about this lovely person he didn’t already know?
On a bookshelf, close by the couch, he saw a grouping of photos in silver frames. Clearly, they were pictures of friends and family. The smiling faces and arms around shoulders spoke of the love these people had for each other. He noticed one with two older people, a man and a woman, standing on either side of a younger woman. They had their arms wrapped around each other. He was puzzled at who these people could be. The older woman looked much like Lily, the same eyes and mouth. The young woman in the middle, though, was huge. Not tall, maybe Lily’s height, but she easily weighed three hundred pounds.
He squinted to see the picture more clearly and her eyes followed his to the picture.
“My parents.”
Paul did a double-take. “Who is...?”
“That’s me.”
He was shocked and quickly looked back and forth between his vision of loveliness and the overweight, yet beautiful, face in the photo.
“I lost some weight, more than a hundred pounds.” She spoke matter-of-factly and smiled at him.
He didn’t speak for a few moments, then said, “She is...you are beautiful. Either way, Lily.”
“Thank you, Paul. I think you’re beautiful, too.” She turned her eyes downward, suddenly shy.
“Yes.” He paused. “Yes, if you could see her through my eyes.” He realized Joel Gray might have been singing the truth after all.
The Cursed Valley
Fantasy
Originally published in Sorcerous Signals and “Arcane Whispers 2” from Wolfsinger Publications.
The guards brought Vendevor the Wizard into the castle’s main hall, converted to a temporary courtroom for the trial. Vendevor, stripped of his bag of magic herbs, cowered under the glare of Tain, the centaur Lord of the Valley. Tain wanted to show mercy, but the wizard’s crime was too horrible. The wizard had poisoned the lake, killing three of the resident merfolk. It was murder, plain and simple, and Tain must pass judgment.
“What should I do with you, Wizard? What is the human’s punishment for murder?” Tain asked, frustrated that he would likely have to hand down a death sentence. Unused to crime and never having seen a murder, the valley had been a safe place to live...until now. A place of inherent magic, it was a natural gathering place for the creatures who inhabited it.
“Why, Lord Tain, have your harpy witch make me forget and send me from the valley. I regret that the merpeople died. I assure you, it was an inadvertent mistake,” the old wizard whined as he groveled before Tain’s hooves.
Tain knew the facts showed the truth in the matter. The wizard had come into their peaceful valley. He had seen the merpeople playing in the shallows of the lake. He had cast the spell that poisoned that part of the lake, then attempted to cut the fins and tails from the bodies of the dead.
Witnessing the entire crime from a hilltop, a family of sphinxes dashed to their rescue, but didn’t reach the lakeside until the deed was done. They only managed to stop the mutilation from going too far. The harpy witch testified that the wizard would have used the body parts in concoctions for his spells.
“Lord Tain, Lord Tain. Please hear us. This foul wizard has killed, and he did it without pity,” a merman sang from the shore of the cleansed lake.
“You see, though, I thought these merfolk to be only fish. My eyesight is poor,” the wizard pleaded.
No, Tain thought, the wizard could not have mistaken the merfolk for fish. He was guilty and now Tain had to find a punishment to fit the crime. Unfortunately, the only punishment could be death.
Reluctant to pronounce the sentence, Tain knew what it must be. He addressed the court.
“Wizard, enough talk. I have heard from the sphinxes and the merpeople. You are lying, that much is clear. As Lord of the Valley, I must sentence you to death. We will carry out the execution tomorrow at dawn.”
“Guards, take him to the castle and create a cell to hold him.”
The valley folk had never needed jails or cells, so they added a heavy door to a storage room facing on the castle’s courtyard. The guards, all muscled minotaurs, tried to lead the wizard, but had to carry him as he refused to rise. Tain shuddered as they dragged the screaming wizard away.
The valley folk dispersed, satisfied their Lord and Protector had made the right decision. Having no stomach for a public execution, they chose to return to their homes and not stay over for the morning’s grim proceeding. They would offer the wizard a poisoned cup of wine. If he would not drink voluntarily, then he would be forced. Enjoying such things, the harpies volunteered for the duty of enforcing the sentence.
Once locked in the makeshift cell, the wizard asked for his knapsack. Looking at the contents, the potions missing and seeing only harmless herbs, the naive guard handed the doomed prisoner the pack, feeling a bit sorry him—a kindness he would live to regret.
While the castle slept, the wizard, knowing escape was impossible without his potions, concocted a spell with the remaining herbs. As dawn crept over the horizon, he cast the final words of magic. Nothing happened, but the wizard appeared to be satisfied.
In the morning, forcing the wizard to drink the deadly potion, the harpies did their duty with glee. His life fading and deadly sleep upon him, the wizard swore at them, damning them with his last breath. Laughing at his curses, the harpies left him to die thinking his final efforts rather poor.
Life returned to normal for the valley folk, all thought of evil wizards gone from their minds. However, as the sun sank and night was upon them, all was apparently not as it should be. Weird forms began to consume their bodies at they morphed into unknown beasts.
Thinking he was hallucinating, Tain felt dizzy as he watched his arms shrinking and his four legs shorten—hooves became claws, his human face lengthened into a canine muzzle. His teeth grew into two-inch fangs. As his form lowered to the ground, he felt his mind fog and then he knew nothing more until the next morning.
He awoke in the forest with the remains of a sheep torn asunder near where he lay. When he saw the bloody bones and bits of flesh, he vomited up the ghastly contents of his reeling stomach.
Even knowing the horrors taking place at night could only be the result of some final wickedness from the wizard, the valley folk were unprepared for the changing forms their bodies turned into each night. Tain became a werewolf. Others took on other aspects, some deadly, some innocuous. However, all of those that lived in the valley spent each night in something other than their natural form.
* * *
Tain’s hooves pounded the dusty road, his breath coming in short gasps as he raced for safety. Shia kept pace beside him, her tongue lolling from her mouth as she, too, exerted her last efforts. The sun was just touching the top of the hills and they must reach the keep before nightfall.
The centaur and the wolf crossed the bridge, running neck and neck until they pulled up heaving for breath in the courtyard. Tain bent his head down with his hands on his waist for a few moments trying to catch his breath. Shia dropped to the ground panting. Looking up at Tain, she wagged her bushy tail.
“Almost didn’t make it,” she said between gasps. A barking laugh came up from her deep chest.
Tain stood upright again and smiled at her. Then, his form began to waver and melt in the dying light of the sun. His arms grew shorter until they disappeared, the hair on his body became longer and rougher, and his body shrank into its nighttime aspect: a werewolf.
He stood beside her prone form. Larger than she, with fangs nearly two inches long, the two were still strikingly similar. He looked lovingly down at his mate, before his mind clouded again with werewolf passions.
Shia was a natural wolf. She did not change to a different form at night as Tain did. They had met one night while both prowled the forests. It was hardly love at first sight. Tain attacked Shia, intent on killing her. Shia fought back with a strength enhanced by fear. As the battle raged between the two wolves, the rim of the ris
ing sun showed in the eastern hills. Tain began to change back into a centaur again. Shia jumped back in wonder at the transformation, giving Tain time to gather his wits.
When the curse washed across the valley over ten years before, Shia had been hunting for mountain goats above the tree line. She had seemingly escaped the spell that changed every denizen of the valley thereafter.
The two talked through the day and found a growing affection, and later love, for each other. The fact that they were different species didn’t bother them. Love was love, after all.
After the two had met, Tain had resolved not to lose himself to his dark side. He loved Shia, but his other form, the violent werewolf, might kill even her. So, they returned to the keep each night where he was locked away until at dawn he reverted to his natural form.
Tain loped to the cell where the guard opened the heavy door. Tain could barely force himself to enter as the werewolf aspect overtook him. Snarling, he entered the cell. The guard swung the heavy door shut and locked it securely.
Shia watched as her beloved was shut away for the night. Sadly shaking her head, she walked slowly up the steps into the main castle. She rested at night instead of hunting so she could spend the days with Tain.
* * *
Shia yawned and stretched herself the next morning. Glancing out the window, she saw that it was midmorning and hoped that Tain would be awake. She looked across the courtyard to the cell door. It was open. Shia hurried to the main hall where Tain would be having breakfast.
She joined him at the table where he stood eating a hearty breakfast of grain and bread. The servant anticipated Shia’s entrance, laying a large shank of meat at her place. Jumping up to her stool, she tore at the raw flesh.
Tain wrinkled his nose at her less-than-elegant table manners. However, she was, after all, a wolf and not expected to use knife and fork. Tain grew queasy at the sight of the raw meat. Only in his werewolf form would he think of eating flesh.
The guard came in and bowed his head to Tain.
“What is it?” Tain asked.
“Lord Tain, a human is approaching the gate. I thought you should know.”
Tain was startled. A human? The last human who came here was the wizard who had afflicted the valley folk in the first place. Tain turned away from the table.