Ok. Here is something a little more recient. I started this last fall. Bear in mind it is yet to be proof read. It's stricktly first draft work in progress. Yes there is more, yes I know where it's going and no I'm not going to tell you, you'll have to stay tuned. :)


Chapter 1



" Come on Annie, you look fine." Shay said, edging me away from the mirror and closer to the door.

-Fine. Definitely the look I was going for. I couldn't really blame her for her impatience she was excited. Of course Shay was always excited.
Bubbly is what most people call her. She manages that precarious balance between sweet and innocent and sexy and brazen.
At 5'6 she isn't terribly tall for a woman, so men still feel protective of her, yet put on four inch heels and she can command a room. Though not skinny Shay is delicately boned so no matter how much weight she gains, her face and hands never show it. Currently she is sporting what men called a womanly figure, all the right curves in all the right places.
She had long dark naturally curly hair and dark chestnut eyes. With her straight nose and high cheekbones, she looks like a cameo come to life. On top of being attractive, She is also a good, kind person. Damn her. Jealous? Who me?
"Come on come on, poky." Shay sang, taking my hands. I guess she must have seen the uncertainty in my eyes. She led me back to the mirror and stood beside me.
Shay had somehow managed to get us invited to the "Shades of the Moon" ball. It was held every October on the night of the full moon. Clever.
When two invitations arrived at Shay's house last week, with our names embossed in gold, my first though was that they had us mixed up with some other Shay Martin and Annie Ford. Usually only the cream de la cream of society was invited and unless my social standing suddenly skyrocketed while I was sleeping, we weren't the sort of people usually asked to attend. Despite my scepticism, she talked me in to going. Shay had a habit of talking me into doing things I normally wouldn't do.
The invitation's only instruction was to dress "in the shades of the moon". So we had dressed accordingly, no black or primary colours.
Shay was dressed in an icy silvery lilac sleeveless dress that fell to the floor. It was made of some slinky, weighted material that flowed like waves when she moved. She had matched her lipstick and eye shadow to her dress and sprayed sliver glitter in her pain stakeningly straightened hair. She looked frosty, cool and lovely.
I on the other hand been talked into, (by guess who) a spaghetti strapped, backless dress that came just above my knees. Above the knees or to the ankle my mother always reminded me, is the best lengths. When your 5'1 any other length will make you look dumpy. Words to live by. The dress itself was two layers. The underneath was a soft golden material with a golden pink sheer gauzy material over top. I had curled my long reddish gold hair into thick waves, which I'd pinned up into a cascade and sprayed with gold glitter. My makeup was minimal, but all of the gold brought out the green in my eyes. The only jewellery I wore was a pair of crystal stud earrings set in gold. Shay wore a matching pair in silver.
I had to admit we looked pretty good.
"You look beautiful." Shay said wrapping her arms around mine and resting her head on my shoulder.
I smiled at her in the mirror. "Ok, let's go." My mother also taught me to always accept a compliment. My mother is a wise woman.
***

We decided to take my car so I could play designated driver. No big deal for me, I've never been a big drinker. The other reason was that Shay drove a white jeep, which she was fond of off roading as often as possible. If it was a choice between a clean road and a puddle, Shay took the puddle every time. Needless to say her jeep was actually mud brown. We didn't think it would do to arrive at a ball with mud-streaked legs. We're not Cinderella but we like to think we're not pumpkins either.
I drove in with out speaking, content to listen to Shay chatter on about the ball. When I get nervous I tend to get quiet. Shay tends to talk; at a speed few could comprehend.
"I can't believe we're actually going." Shay said excitedly
"Me neither." I said, breaking my silence.
I let the car roll to a stop at red light and glanced over at Shay. She was glancing out the window, with a peculiar look on her face. She had the look of someone longing for something but not quite knowing what. I was about to ask her what she was thinking about when she suddenly doubled over with a moan.
" What's wrong?" I asked, reaching over to touch her arm. Shay looked up at me. For a moment I hardly recognized her. The look in her eyes was wild, almost feral, but it disappeared in an instant, leaving me to wonder if it had been there at all.
"I'm ok." She replied. "I've felt a little funky all day. You know, that time of the month."
"Are you sure?" I asked. I had known Shay most of our adult lives and I'd never seen her period affect her like this.
"Yes I'm sure. Hey if we don't go the guy behind us is going to run up our ass."
The light had turned green and looking in the rear view mirror, I could see the face of the guy in the car behind us had turned red.
***

I didn't need to check the address on the invitation to know we had the right place. The road we had been driving on had wound its way around and had finally ended at a long stone wall and a pair of ornate iron gates, which were open. Along the top of the walls were tiny, white, sparkling lights. We could hear sound of soft music, glasses clinking, and people laughing. I followed the driveway until it stopped in front of the largest house I had ever seen. It had three stories, built in some style of architecture, which reminded me of the castles I'd seen in vampire movies as a kid. Two formally dressed valets approached the car and opened the doors for us.
"Mademoiselle's, everyone is around back, just follow the path."
I handed the man my keys and he got in my car. I tried to look as if I was used to having my car parked for me but inside I wished I had spent less time getting dressed and more time cleaning my car.

This is a song I wrote many years ago for my theatre group. We staged a musical version of Cinderella and I wrote all the music. Kinda silly but I still believe in the message.

Never Stop Believing

There's a magic to believing
You learn when you are young
When you still belive in fairytales
And your life has just begun

But as the years fly by so fast
The magic fades away
The only thing you care about
Is getting through another day

Never stop believing
The sun goes down at night
Never stop believing
A wish can make things right

A dream has all the power
Of a prayer and even more
Never stop believing
No matter what that wish is for

This song was written when I was in highschool for a dear friend. Cheesy, yes?

WHEN TIME FADES AWAY

WHAT WILL HAPPEN TOMORROW
THAT'S SOMETHING WE CAN'T SAY
WHERE WILL WE BE IN THE FUTURE
WHEN TIME FADES AWAY

WILL WE REMEMBER THE GOOD TIMES
OR ONLY THE SORROW AND PAIN
WILL WE REMEMBER THE WAY IT WAS
OR ONLY SELECTED FRAMES

CHORUS:
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND SLEEP NOW
THERE'S NOTHING MORE TO SAY
BUT REMEMBER I'M FOREVER YOURS
EVEN WHEN TIME FADES AWAY
DON'T LET YOUR INSECURITIES
MAKE YOU SAY GOODBYE
YOU'LL HAVE THE TRUTH AND HAVE IT IN SPADES
WHEN YOU LOOK IN MY EYES

BRIDGE:
YOU ASK ME IF I LOVE YOU
I'LL SAY FOREVER AND A DAY
TRUST ME MY LOVE (FRIEND) I'M FOREVER YOURS
EVEN WHEN TIME FADES AWAY

TOMORROW CAN BE A SCARY PLACE
IF YOU WALK THAT ROAD ALONE
BUT COME TO ME AND TAKE MY HAND
AND YOU'LL NEVER BE ALONE

EVEN WHEN I'M NOT BESIDE YOU
I'LL ALWAYS BE BY YOUR SIDE
MY SHOULDER AND FRIENDSHIP YOU'LL ALWAYS HAVE
A TRUE LOVE NEVER DIES

The following was written in 1993. Can any of you Toronto Blue Jay fans figure out whom I am speaking of? If not, email me. :)

LITTLE BOY AT HEART

THROUGH THE HAZE OF COLD CHAMPAGNE
ONE THING'S BECOME QUITE CLEAR
THE SEASON'S HARD WORK HAD PAID OFF
THEY'D FINALLY MADE IT THERE

NOT JUST A FIRST IN HISTORY
BUT A FIRST FOR HIM AS WELL
AT LAST A TRIP TO THE DANCE
TO PLAY A GAME HE KNOWS SO WELL

CHORUS:
YOU SEE HE'S
JUST A LITTLE BOY AT HEART
LOVING JUST TO PLAY THE GAME
BUT LONGING FOR A START
THE BIG TIME DOESN'T GET MUCH BIGGER
THAN WHERE HE IS TODAY
WHEN THAT LITTLE BOY
INSIDE THE MAN
STEPS ON THE FIELD TO PLAY

HE SITS TO WATCH THE FIRST ONE THROW
THEN STEPS INTO THE PEN
HIS BLUE EYES FLASH WHEN HE IS TOLD
THAT HE MUST WAIT AGAIN

HIS FAMOUS TEMPER DOES NOT FLARE
HE KNOWS HIS CHANCE WILL COME
HE'S WORKED SO HARD AND PAID THE PRICE
THE PRACTISING IS DONE

FINALLY HIS TIME ARRIVES
HE STRIDES TOWARDS THE MOUND
HE THROWS A BALL OF FIRE
THE OTHER CAN'T CHASE DOWN

THE REST IS LOST IN A BLUR OF SPEED
TILL HE TAKES HIS SEAT AGAIN
IT WAS A MOMENT THAT WAS FOREVER IN COMING
AND TOOK ONLY A MOMENT TO END



CHORUS 2:
YOU SEE HE'S
JUST A LITTLE BOY AT HEART
LOVING JUST TO PLAT THE GAME
BUT LONGING FOR A START
THE WINNING DOESN'T MATTER AS MUCH
AS THE WAY THEY FEEL TODAY
WHEN NINE BOYS INSIDE THE MEN
STEP ON THE FIELD TO PLAY

Boy is going to be a posterific day! I'm going to be posting a bunch of songs I've written past and present. Here's the first.

WEST TEXAS THUNDERSTORM

SHE SPENT THE DAY
SITTIN IN A SUIT BEHIND HER DESK
NOW IT'S 5'O'CLOCK
BUT SHE CAN'T BRING HERSELF TO GO HOME YET

HERE SHE MAY BE ALL ALONE
BUT THAT CAN'T COMPARE
TO THE WAY SHE FEELS
AT HOME

CHORUS:
HER PAIN RUNS WILD
LIKE A WEST TEXAS THUNDERSTORM
WITH A PENT UP PASSION
AND A LIFE ALL IT'S OWN
YES SHE'S AS WILD
AS A WEST TEXAS THUNDERSTORM
IF ONLY SHE COULD BREAK AWAY
AND START A NEW LIFE
ON HER OWN

SO SHE DRIVES HERSELF TO AN OPEN FIELD
DRAGS HERSELF FROM BEHIND THE WHEEL
LETS HER HAIR DOWN
AND RUNS BAREFOOT THROUGH THE GRASS

SHE TURNS HER FACE UP TO THE POURING RAIN
SHE CRIES AND SCREAMS AND CURSES HIS NAME
AND WONDERS HOW SHE WOUND UP HERE
WHERE SHE IS NOW

BRIDGE:?
YES SHE KNOWS
WHAT SHE MUST DO
SHE KNOWS IT'S HARD
BUT SHE KNOWS IT'S TRUE

???
LIKE THE WIND
THAT BLOWS ACROSS
THE TEXAS SKIES

Oops! Word does not cut and past well here. Chapter 1 seems to have lost most of it's formatting but you can still read it so you'll have to forgive the unprettyness of it. :)

I've decided that if I'm going to have this blog here, I should write in it. :) The first thing I'm posting is the first chapter of a novel I've been churning around for a very long time. I believe that 1995 was mentioned in the story but I believe it was started in '92. Wow! My writing has changed and grown soooo much since then. I'm going to tear apart and revise this chapter (and all of the others) but an old friend asked me to post this so I couln't resist. He was in on the original planning and hasn't seen it in years. Here you go.

CHAPTER 1

The lights were almost blinding and he could feel their heat pushing against his skin. It was happening again and he was helpless to stop it. He looked up at the man seated high above him and watched as the man opened his mouth and yelled something. The sound that came out was distorted but he'd been here so many times he knew what was said. Action! And then it began. He spun around and caught the familiar glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. As he turned to run, he heard the explosion and felt the fire enter his chest and spread. He collapsed on the floor, the pain once again taking his breath away. He could hear hysterical screaming and muffled shouting. He felt the darkness beckoning, but before he surrendered he could detect another sound, that of soft laughter.
* * * * * *
Quaid glanced in the rear view mirror at the young man curled up on the back seat. The dark circles and pale skin showed the incredible strain the sleeping man had been under the past few months. Quaid shook his head and sighed. Babysitting was not exactly what he'd had in mind when he retired from the BCO. Bureau of Covert Operations, what a joke. He had spent the last 15 years of his life doing what the FBI and CIA couldn't do, and he'd had enough. The only thing it had gotten him was almost dead, more times than he could count.
The man in the back seat moaned, caught in the middle of another nightmare, and Quaid sighed again. No, babysitting was the wrong word. The kid he was helping was one of the few friends he had, and now that he was in more trouble than any Hollywood script could depict, Quaid knew he had to do what he could to help him out of it. Or die trying. Which was becoming more and more of a possibility, Quaid thought ruefully.
When the young man moaned again, Quaid reached back and gave him a gentle nudge.
"Jarod. Wake up kiddo."
Jarod jolted into consciousness.
"Another nightmare?" Quaid asked him.
"Yea."
"Same one?"
"Yea."
"Real talkative when you first when you first wake up, huh?"
"Yea."
Quaid smiled, and putting his turn signal on he maneuvered the car into the parking lot of a small diner. The garish neon sign declared that the restaurant was "The Last Midnight Stop".
"Do you want some coffee?" Quaid asked.
"Tea, thanks."
"'kay. Be back."
Jarod watched Quaid unfold himself from the car and walk into the diner. Jarod then got out of the car and walked around to the passengers' side at the front and got in. He stretched out his long legs and leaned his head back against the headrest, breathing slowly and deeply until a rumbling in his stomach interrupted his meditation. He looked in the rearview mirror and shook his head. "Well, you've certainly looked better," he said, noticing the dark circles, "I guess you'll have to do" he finished, pushing a stray lock of dark hair out of his eyes.
He had inherited the best qualities from both his parents. From his mother he had received most of his looks. At 6 feet he was broad shouldered, well muscled, yet sleek like a panther. He had a face many a woman had termed beautiful. High cheekbones, strong jaw and a full mouth, combined with large dark bottomless eyes, had broken more than a few hearts. His slightly exotic look, which came from his mother's Asian heritage, helped lend an air of dark mystery. Jarod though, didn't think much of his looks, or anyone else's for that matter. It wasn't that he didn't admire beauty; he just found that he related more to something else in people. He had a way of seeing into peoples' souls and seeing their true selves. This was a trait he had possessed for as long as he could remember, and it had prevented him from getting close to many people. It was also a trait his mother had said he had received from his father, Jonathan Morgan. A man he had cursed many times over the past few months for the sharp left his life had taken. A man he hardly knew. A man his mother had hardly known when she had fallen hopelessly in love with him. A love she had never recovered from, for when Jonathan had found out that Lily was pregnant, he'd left her and unborn Jarod. He'd resurfaced 24 years and several months earlier on Jarod's doorstep and didn't seem surprised when his son told him Lily had died 16 years earlier. He made no attempt to apologize for leaving and had come baring only a warning. He had crossed some bad characters that were not above visiting the sins of the father unto the son.
Jarod could get no further information out of the man. Or any hint of emotion for that matter. He left abruptly leaving Jarod with feelings of anger and confusion. He'd pretty much scoffed at his fathers warning until that fateful night. Jarod shook his head. No wonder you keep having nightmares about it, he told himself, you brood about things too much. Jarod opened the car door and got out. He walked the few steps it took to get to the diner and pushed open the doors. He was immediately accosted by the smell of frying grease. He walked over to where Quaid was sitting on a stool at the counter.
"What, stomach finally get the better of you?" Quaid asked him.
"Ya" Jarod replied, eliciting a chuckle from his friend.
"Another plate of steak and eggs, and that's for here, not to go." Quaid called out to the blond waitress whose breast proclaimed, HELLO MY NAME IS STACEE.
"Sure sugar," the waitress drawled, and propping herself up on the counter, she began to try to draw Quaid into a conversation. Jarod glanced around at the diner and its patrons. There were several sets of tables and chairs in addition to the long front counter, which was complete with ripped vinyl swivel stools. Plate glass windows wrapped around the entire perimeter of the diner, and the back walls had nothing on them except peeling grey paint. By the far left window sat two old men at a newspaper littered table. Both were silent, staring blankly out the window. Standing at the far end of the counter were four young men dressed in hockey gear, looking very ticked off. As Jarod half listened, he overheard the source of the men's annoyance.
"Goddamed bloody prima donna, cutting into our ice time when we got a team to get ready," spat an enormous mountain of a man with shaggy blond hair, which Jarod assumed was the goalie of the motley team beside him. His size, combined with his obvious grace, (he'd already managed, in the short time Jarod had been there, to knock over a cup of coffee, and put his fist in a plate of cherry pie) made Jarod wonder whether or not he could do much else but prop himself up in front of a net and block a few shots. "Oh, but Bull, she's gonna be the next world champion," a carrot topped man said sweetly.
"Bull, it figured," Jarod thought.
"Come on guys, the Kings are on the tube," one of the other men said, "there's not gonna be much action tonight."
"No fuckin' way," Bull said, "I'm gonna stick around and wait for the Ice Princess."
He said this slurring his words in a way that left no doubt as to his pickled state.
"Sure ya will, Bull honey", HELLO MY NAME IS STACEE said, pulling herself away from Quaid long enough to pour the inebriated Bull Honey a cup of coffee.
The other men headed out of the diner after saying their goodbyes, discussing when or if THE GREAT ONE would return to the game. Bull sat over his coffee muttering under his breath about the world's great injustices and the outrageous price of coffee.
"What was that all about?" Jarod asked the waitress.
"They're pissed off because some skater and her coach have first pick of available ice time and the only time left for them is Wednesdays 3:15 am."
"Who's the skater?" Jarod asked.
"Haven't got a clue. All I know is I'm never gonna hear the end of it. At least until baseball season." The waitress walked, coffeepot in hand to the old men's table to refill their cups. Jarod had to resist a strong urge to check them for a pulse.
"Chow's up," the cook called, making a grand show of ringing the bell on the counter even though HELLO MY NAME IS STACEE was only half a foot away from him.
Quaid immediately dug in to his food while Jarod gingerly pushed his around with his fork.
"What's wrong kid," Quaid asked between mouthfuls of steak and eggs, "lose your appetite?" Quaid grinned.
"Ya, something like that," Jarod replied making a face, looking at the already congealing grease on his plate.
"Excuse me, could I have a plain bagel?" Jarod asked the waitress.
"Ooh sugar, ah sure does like a man with a healthy appetite," the waitress replied, affecting a southern drawl, all the while positioning herself so Jarod got the most complete view of her substantial cleavage. Jarod smiled weakly, blushing a deep crimson. Quaid nearly choked on a mouthful of steak he laughed so hard.
Suddenly a terrible sound filled the air. It sounded to Jarod like a cougar caught in a trap. It sounded to Quaid like a woman in trouble. Quaid was right.
"Sweet Jesus, what was that?" the cook asked.
Quaid didn't answer the man, he just leapt down off his stool and sprinted out the front door. Jarod paused a minute, looking around the diner. The waitress was huddled beside the cook, the old men were beginning to show signs of life, and Bull... Bull.
Damn it! Jarod swore to himself, following Quaid's lead, rushed out the front door.
* * * * *
Aurora pulled her car into the parking lot of the "Last Midnight Stop" and peered out the windshield, wondering how in God's name she wound up there. The golden arches back on Route 7 had seemed the more intelligent place to stop. Not necessarily the greatest food but at least there she knew what she'd be getting. And here? It looked like the kind of place even rats would avoid. So why drive 20 miles out of her way? Especially when she was starving and hadn't really known when she'd find another place to eat. It just had seemed to her that something was pulling her here, to this place. For what reason she didn't know, but her feelings were seldom wrong. She turned the car into the alley that ran along the side of the diner. The alley it self was about 15 feet wide, and was lined on one side with tall willow trees. She parked the car under a tree and turned off the engine.
"This isn't like me," she thought out loud. Then she laughed to herself. How do I know what is and isn't like me. I don't even know what my real name is. Aurora was the name that had been given to her at the hospital by a nun, (who had explained it was the name of the town she grew up in) who had taken an intense interest in her. According to Sister Maria Nuncia, Aurora had been found on the steps of St. Francis', her hands bloody and splintered from where she had tried to scratch and claw her way into the church. The sister had said that Aurora had been found, pale and shivering, dressed only in a light floral print summer dress, strange attire for the beginning October. Stranger still had been her behavior. The sister went on to say that Aurora had been terrified, looking as if "all the demons of hell were after you", and almost incoherent. The only thing the priests could make out was Aurora pleading for them to take her into the church where "they" couldn't get her. Who "they" were was a mystery. One of the priests took her to the hospital where she was diagnosed with pneumonia. Once her fever was down and her mind cleared, the doctors found another problem with their patient, she couldn't remember anything about herself. She was fine on the year (1995), the president (Bill Clinton) and who had one the last World Series (the Toronto Blue Jays), but anything regarding herself, she drew a blank on. The first thing she could recall was opening her eyes in the hospital. The doctors did all they could to help her remember. They ran medical tests to see if her loss of memory was brought on by something physical, but there was no evidence of head trauma, or anything else that might be a likely cause*. Eventually, they concluded that she was suffering from hysterical amnesia*, brought on by some event so traumatic that her mind shut down. So they sent her to psychiatrists who in turn sent her to hypnotherapists, but in the end the she regained none of her memory. After several months the doctors ran out of venues to travel down in her therapy that hadn't already been tried, but deemed her other wise healthy. Throughout the course of her hospital stay Sister Maria Nuncia visited her almost everyday bringing with her spiritual solace, friendship and most importantly, hope. She believed that when Aurora was ready to remember, she would, and the doctors concurred. So they agreed that Aurora could continue her treatment on an outpatient basis providing she had some place to go. Sister Maria Nuncia insisted that she come to stay at the convent*, telling her that the best thing for her was safe, quiet, reflective time for herself. Aurora hated the thought of imposing on the Sister after all she had done, but given the fact that she had no money and no one else to turn to she agreed. The Sister had been right the solitude had been good for her. She began to feel more at peace with herself. Acting on another one of the Sister's suggestions, Aurora began to volunteer at the local soup kitchen, taking the most pleasure in talking to the children who often came there. She seemed to have a special rapport with them, and with people in general. It was more than just being a people person, she seemed to have an inner light, a gentleness about her that people seemed to sense. Not long after starting, Marcus Wright, the man in charge of running the shelter, offered her some clerical work to help her earn some money.
"It's not charity, Aurora," he had told her. "I do need some help keeping the shelters' paperwork in order. This is a place designed to help people, so let me help you."
So Aurora helped out 3 nights a week in the office of the shelter. The pay wasn't great, but considering the fact that the convent wouldn't accept any money for food or board, (she paid her way by helping out with chores and cooking) she was able to save a fair amount of money in a short time.
Shortly after arriving at the convent, Aurora began to notice she seemed to have another gift, besides her naturalness with people; she began to have feelings about things. Nothing specific or concrete enough for her to be prompted to call Ripley's, but they were accurate and frequent enough for her to take notice. The first time it happened, she had been standing in the kitchen
peeling carrots, when the strangest feeling washed over her. It wasn't quite a vision but more like a strong impulse, and it was nagging enough that she couldn't concentrate on the task she was doing. She had an urge to go upstairs and check the hall linen closet. It was large enough to walk into, and the door had a tendency to shut behind you and stick, and given the fact that the doors were heavy polished oak, it made yelling for help somewhat difficult.
Aurora tried to push the feeling aside, telling herself that it was ridiculous, but before she knew what was happening, she found herself in front of the closet door. Upon opening it she found a very red faced Mother Superior sitting cross legged on the floor.
Afterwards Aurora tried to forget about what had happened, but things like that occurred over and over. Sometimes it was small things, like knowing where Marcus had left his keys, or larger things, like knowing who had been stealing money from the church office. Always though, it felt the same way, as if her body worked apart from her conscious mind. Although it frightened her, she had learned to trust those impulses. She would have been content to stay at the convent forever accepting her strange gift and using it to help pay back the kindness of the priests and nuns who had been so good to her, had it not been for that night.
Aurora shuddered at the thought of that fateful night, that night which had forced her to leave the safety of the convent and flee. Aurora shook her head and pushed away all remembrances of her short past and sighed. Well, those feelings had brought her here, and they had never steered her wrong in the past, until now. All of a sudden her door was yanked open and a strong hand dragged her out by her upper arm. Her assailant then wrenched her arm up behind her back and wrapped his other arm around her rib cage.
" Hey! What the..." Aurora shouted, at first more angry than afraid.
"Stupid bitch," a voice growled, "how am I supposed to get a deal with the Kings if I can't practice? You think you're so hot in your trashy little skating dress, letting everyone look at your ass. Well, let's see how hot you are now." The voice was slurring its words, obviously drunk. Just not drunk enough to be staggering, or better yet unconscious.
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. You've got the wrong person," Aurora said, trying to sound calm. The anger she had felt was quickly being replaced by fear.
"Bullshit!" the man spat, and began to squeeze her left breast with his right hand. "You and me are gonna have some fun." He then let go of her breast and Aurora felt a flood of relief, but it was short lived. His hand began to travel down the flat of her stomach and continued down between her legs. It was only then that she fully understood what he meant to do. Suddenly she froze. Her mind screamed Run! Fight! Scream!, but she couldn't make a sound, let alone move. The man pushed her a few steps forward until she was bent over the hood of her car. He pressed himself against her until she could feel his excitement. He bent over her and took one of her earlobes in his mouth and once again began squeezing her chest with both of his hands. With one quick movement he tore her t-shirt from her body, splitting it in two. A low moan escaped her throat.
"Oh ya, baby you like it, don't'cha. I knew you were that type. You play all prissy but you like it rough."
Blind rage washed over Aurora and she suddenly felt as if she were coming out of a fog, as if her mind and body were hers again. Her assailant pulled her to a more upright position, keeping only the lower portion of her body pinned against the car. She took that opportunity to rotate her body enough to face him. She raised her hand up and without wasting a second dug her fingernails into his cheek. For a split second she felt triumph as he staggered back a step from her howling in pain, then quick as lightening he back handed her knocking her to her knees. It felt as if her head was exploding in a series of lights and colours. As her vision began to clear she looked up at the man in front of her. He reached down and taking hold of her long hair, pulled her to her feet.
"Now your gonna pay," he said calmly. The sound of his voice chilled her to the bone as he now appeared to be stone cold sober and his eyes burned with hate.
"No!" she yelled, in a voice that sounded as if it came from the most primitive part of her.
He grabbed both shoulders digging in his fingers painfully.
"Shut up!" he shouted and began to shake her. Over his shoulder she could see two dark figures approaching but even running, Aurora had a feeling she'd be dead before they reached her. Then another instinct kicked in, survival. She jammed her knee up as hard as she could and connected with soft tissue. The man doubled over dragging her down with him. His pain must have been incredible but his hate for her was stronger. He wrapped his hand around her neck and began to squeeze. Jarod ran, his mind reeling. He had turned the corner into the alley just in time to see Bull violently shaking a young woman. He internally winced as he watched her bring her knee up and connect with his groin. Quaid reached Bull and the woman first. Bull spun around and upon seeing Quaid, he shoved Aurora hard backwards causing her to lose her footing. Jarod reached her just as her head struck the rear bumper of the car momentarily sending her into unconsciousness. As Bull turned to make a quick get away, the liquor he'd consumed earlier in the evening finally caught up with him. His vision swam and he lost his footing, falling face first on to the pavement, his chin taking the brunt of the fall and leaving the palms of his hands a bloody mess. Quaid grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. Then turning him around to face him, he drew back his right arm and delivered a quick shot to Bull's already swollen chin. Jarod could have sworn he could hear bones splintering. Bull fell on his backside and then began to cry, and babble to himself.
"Oh no, no, no. Not my face. I can't get an endorsement if you hurt my face."
Quaid calmly looked at him and said "shut up." Bull stopped muttering about his lost hockey endorsements but continued to cry softly.
While Quaid was dealing with Bull the Mighty, Jarod sat down next to the fallen woman and drew her head into his lap. He drew her hair back off her bleeding forehead, and watched his friend. When he was done with Bull, Quaid came over to Jarod and bent down beginning to asses the woman's injuries.
"Poor things going to have a nasty headache."
"Good!" Bull whined.
"You, shut up," Quaid snapped.
Bull cursed under his breath, but when Quaid glared at him he made due with sulking and dirty looks.
Aurora felt consciousness returning, at first as intangible as wisps of fog but everything was brought into sharp focus when Quaid said, "We're gonna have to take her to the hospital."
"No!" Aurora cried, struggling into a sitting position.
"Easy, easy. You're going to be just fine. I think Bull is pretty much out of commission," Jarod said, gesturing over to the man who was still sitting on the ground sulking.
"I can't go, they'll find me," Aurora felt as if she were wading under water. The fear she felt welling up inside was confusing to her. She wasn't sure who or what she was afraid of, she just knew if she was found, they would make the man who had just attacked her look like a grade school bully.
"No!" She yelled again and began to struggle in earnest. It took all of Jarod's strength to hold on to her. Jarod caught Quaid's eyes over Aurora's head, and he raised one eyebrow in question. Quaid looked over to the crowd that had gathered and called out to the cook, "Has anyone called the police?" the cook nodded. "Then would you come watch super jock until they get here? We've got to get her some help."
The cook smiled and walked towards Bull, "my pleasure."
Aurora, having exhausted herself, leaned against Jarod.
"Please, don't ask me to go to the hospital," she pleaded, in a whispered voice.
Quaid leaned over to her and said, "I don't think it's a wise idea for any of us if we go to the hospital, but we can't stay here." Aurora and Jarod nodded their agreement. Quaid bent over and scooped Aurora up into his arms before she could protest, and carried her to their car.

Random Thoughts

I am often over whelmed by the way nature speaks with such simple eloquence and terrible beauty. The first wind of spring with it's gentle warmth as soft the touch of angels wings. The tornado with it's horrific power and fascinating grace. It is in the presence of these things that I am deeply humbled and intensely grateful to be alive.

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