The energy I feel in the morning is often drained quickly after I rise. What I call my nightmares may not be really scary as far a frightening me, but leave me with a strange sense of uneasiness. I try to be quiet to let the others sleep, but that gets harder when, one by one, the others wake to the day, as energetic as I once felt and make the noises to wake the others, despite their urge to remain sleeping.

The miscreants

  Not much has happened since we last saw them. They did what they did, which is whatever they set their minds to do or not do. Sometimes they got drunk and sat around the fire and lied to each other, even though no one ever believed them. Other times they helped old ladies with their groceries or cut their lawns. They never asked for any pay for their help, but they also would never refuse it if offered. They preferred to be paid in wine or whiskey, but they would take cash as long as the liquor store was open. The owned nothing and spent their days wandering, picking up things others left behind, things thought useless by their previous owners. The miscreants would take these things back to their camp at night and find new uses for them, uses not thought of by the item's inventor. 

  The crab-looking guy made his way around at night usually, so he wouldn't be frightening the local people. The robot, scarred from use, never forgot his lost love. He was either drunk or busy trying to fix the broken things around the camp. The vagabond came and went farther than the others in his daily travels. Each day would take him little farther from his companions, but he always seemed to come back just when the others had stopped thinking he would. Every once in a while a lizard stopped by and stared at them as they sat around their campfire, but he never said anything.
  The lizard didn't drink like the others and was often counted on for confirmation in any disagreements. He mostly just shook his head and the others took this as deep wisdom, unfathomable by their drunken standards. The vagabond, called Hiway by some, took the lizard on his trips sometimes across the lands. Sometimes they would split up somewhere in their travels and come back to the camp separately, with a shared story that had two endings. 

Nightmares

Scary dreams keep me from saying asleep. I wake up a lot during the night to find myself clutching the pillows and maybe chewing on them. At least a little drool from mouth-breathing. I don't know if not being able to remember the dreams is a bad thing or not. The dreams leave me feeling drained, and that is not how you are supposed to feel when you wake up. I would probably sleep longer if I went to bed later, but getting up early kicks that in the butt.

I don't know what it is that goes through my mind before I sleep that gives my the night terrors and creepy dreams that wake me so early in the morning. George Takei was inconsolably upset at something he thought I said. I couldn't convince him otherwise and it left me hurt. I woke up physically shaken and my nerves are shot. It was the same feeling I had when I had that dream where my wife told me she was pregnant AGAIN with number four. I woke right up after seeing the pregnancy test and counted my kids.

Does a story have to have a conflict of some sort to be a good story? I know I have spent a greater amount of time trying to avoid conflicts myself than starting them. Most of my personal stories don't even really have a point, just a recollection of events as they happened. Now, maybe some had some conflicting aspects, but for the most part it is simple: I did this, that happened. I began to think of other stories, stories that were amusing without a conflict. I came across several authors I like to read that tell tales just as plain as they may have happened. Maybe I missed something in them, or maybe the conflict was internal to the characters involved. Who knows. I will admit that stories with conflicts can be amusing, but I feel at times they lack the depth of character I look for in reading. One is sacrificed for the other. I don't believe many of the comedy shows that people are glued to have any aspect of conflict, other than ones that are designed to elicit laughter. I wonder....

The Final Case of Rocket Adams

The Final Case of Rocket Adams

  The sun wasn't up yet, but his eyes popped open just like every other day. He slipped out of bed and into his old boots. The darkness did not deter his movements, he moved with the grace of a ballerina through the familiar surroundings. Stepping out the door , the cool air wrapped him in a chilly embrace. The sky had that strange color not witnessed by the late sleepers. Before he hopped on his bike, he checked his nine and it's uncomfortable position in the small of his back. Leaves swirled as his wheels spun and he shifted gears.

He considered himself a man, taking what the world has handed him and dealt with it as he knew best. Trying his best to not cause harm, but not backing down from whatever life could throw at him.

 He drove down the street twice. She was not where they had planned to meet, something had to be wrong. He stopped at the corner to think what to do next when he heard the screams, screams he had heard before. He dropped the kickstand and began running towards the sounds.

 His old boot went through the door like it was paper. Splinters flew through the air, the door handle spun uncontrollably and landed well into the room. She was on the floor, blood running from her nose and mouth. A man, supposedly her father, stood over her, bloody fist clenched. The man turned slowly to the other man coming through the door, eyes wide with rage. The younger man did not hesitate even though this was not how he had pictured the morning turning out. Blood sprayed across the room.

He grabbed her by the hand, and she grabbed a small backpack filled with her clothes and what she considered necessities. They stepped hand in hand over the bleeding body on their way to the splintered door. She turned back at the last second and spit at the man who called himself father.

They put many miles behind the bike on their flight, stopping during the day in vacant houses set back from the highway. They played house, pretending at each place that it was their residence and they had spent a lifetime there. They slept most of the afternoon, but when the sun went down their journey continued. They had no worries during this peaceful time, just spending time together while putting miles between them and their pasts.

Days had passed since the duo left town. Neighbors complained about strange smells, but didn't want to investigate themselves. That is when Rocket Adams snagged the case, walking into the abattoir as a uniformed officer rushed out and lost his lunch in some nearby bushes.

The first couple nights were easy. Going from abandoned house to abandoned house, picking up things to munch on during the rides between. Circe sat perched on the back of the bike, back pack fastened to her over her shoulders, and wearing the only helmet that David owned. They rode most of the night, crashing to sleep when the sun was closer to rising. David knew they were being probably being sought by the police, but wanted to put as much space between them as possible before they figured out what had happened. He also knew the couple thousand bucks he had managed to save over the past few years was not going to last them long.

Rocket Adams strode out of the house after the crime scene techs were finished. The techs carried boxes of evidence back to their van. Rocket knew of the daughter, and that she was missing, so his mind wandered through different scenarios while he made his way back to his unmarked car. Plopping down into his seat, he instinctively grabbed for his coffee and took a sip. Spitting the ice cold coffee back into his cup, he rolled the window down and poured it out, before tossing the cup into the floorboard that was littered with several of his previous coffee cups from several different establishments.

Rocket Adams had heard of the scenario plenty if times, he had just never had to deal with it himself. Just another version of Romeo and Juliet, only not as eloquent as the immortal bard. He stood at the edge of the road, looking both ways, trying to discern a likely escape route from the bloody house. There were only one set of tracks leaving in the direction away from the nearest town, and they were the tracks of a motorcycle. He smiled knowing his search just got easier.

 David woke well before the sunset and Circe was still wrapped in a blanket on the floor where they had slumbered. He scanned the empty house, it looked more different in the light of day than when they arrived the previous night. He got up quietly and stretched. His stomach made those familiar noises of hunger. He decided to head off to the nearest convenience store and bring back something that could possibly resemble a breakfast. He was fairly certain that Circe wouldn't even awaken before he got back. He was stepping out the door when he noticed her back pack setting on the floor by the door. He paused for a second then headed outside. He pushed his bike out to the street before starting it up and he headed off in the direction of the Qwik-Stop they had passed late last night.

The convenience store was farther down the road than he remembered while driving the night before. Pulling up next to the pump, he put down his kick-stand and walked into the store. David walked the aisles, looking over the dusty items as he walked. He grabbed some beef jerky, a couple bags of chips, and a box of pop-tarts that was so near it's expiration that the pop-tarts inside might have had dementia. He reached in his pocket to pay the cashier for his snacks and gas and pulled out a small handful of crumpled bills. When he got his change, he crammed it back into his pocket, receipt and all, and walked through the door. His boots echoed on the pavement as he walked to his bike to pump gas. He quickly filled his tank, but the sound of the gas splashing into his tank made him realize how bad he had to go to the bathroom. He capped his tank , and walked back into the store just as a long beige car pulled into the station.

 Rocket drove through the night, living off coffee and cigarettes and staying awake by constantly trying to tune the radio. Even though the sun was high in the sky, he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. He knew the odds were against him finding the killer by just driving around, but he kept on. He felt awake, yet his eyes were playing tricks on him, taking long blinks that were only remedied when his tires bumped in the grass as they started to leave the road. He would shake his head abruptly each time it would happen, but it was happening more and more frequently as his travels continued. He thought a huge cup of thick gas station coffee would do the trick and pulled into the next convenience store he saw.

 Circe woke up alone in the cold abandoned house. She did not recognize where she was at first in her sleepiness. She screamed for David, but her voice just echoed through the house. She clutched the tattered blanket around herself as her eyes widened and panic began to set in. She had never felt more alone.

Rocket pulled into the Qwik-Stop and parked beside the pump. He saw the motorcycle leaning on it's kick-stand on the opposite side. No one was near the bike and the parking lot was vacant. He didn't figure that whoever he was hunting would be dumb enough to travel in broad daylight, but no one ever said criminals were the brightest bulbs in the box. He decided to pump some gas while he was waiting on whoever was riding the motorcycle, but he saw the sign telling him to prepay. He hung the nozzle back in it's cradle and started to walk towards the store.

David dried his hands with the blower in the gas station bathroom. He always wondered whose bright idea it was, and what they said that made them think it was a good idea. The blowers never dried your hands good enough, so he wiped the excess water off his hands onto the back pockets of his jeans. The bathroom was lit by one of the old incandescent bulbs, and when he stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes had to readjust to the fluorescent bulbs that lined the ceiling. When he could see properly, he noticed the a man talking with the clerk at the counter just as the clerk was pointing in his direction. He stood very still as the bathroom door closed behind him.

Rocket turned his head in the direction the clerk pointed and immediately started sizing him up. He was a young man, long light brown hair, just under six feet tall and longish hair. He wore a beaten up black leather jacket and jeans and motorcycle boots. The young man strode out of the bathroom and started for the door. Rocket was just about to ask the man a question when the man gave Rocket a wink and a nod of the head and continued out the door. Rocket stared through the stores big windows as the man got on his bike and kicked up some gravel as he headed down the road, back in the same direction Rocket had come from.

David was sweating bullets inside, but cold as ice on the outside. The moment he stepped out and saw the man at the counter, he knew it was a cop. He paused only a second before stepping towards the door, aware of his surroundings, but pretending he was the only person on Earth, striding across a desolate landscape in his mind. as he passed Rocket Adams, he nodded and winked, then made his way through the door as a small bell tinkled once when he opened and again when it closed behind him. The cop stood at the counter, eyes wide and fresh coffee in hand. David saw the cop's car at the pump across from his bike. He mounted his bike and went off in the opposite direction in case he would be followed. A couple miles down the road, he would back-track to the abandoned house where he left Circe asleep.

 Circe grew cold as she twisted and turned in the blankets on the floor. Unaware that David had left to get some food, her restlessness coincided with his departure. Suddenly, sat up, wide awake and confused about her surroundings. She threw off the blanket that was wrapped snake-like around her. She ran for the door and saw her back pack and snatched it up in as she grabbed the door handle. She stopped with her hand on the knob and her mind began to clear as her deep sleep sloughed off her. She shook her head remembering her flight from her home after her father tried to kill her. The only thing she couldn't figure out was why David was gone. Without opening the door, she sat right down on the floor at the door and cried.

 Rocket Adams shook his head after the young man left the store. He had one of those feelings he gets while on a case. He knew he was looking for someone riding a motorcycle, and the one that was outside had been the only one he had come across on the road heading out of town. The only thing that didn't make sense was the fact that the motorcyclist was heading in the wrong direction for heading out of town. He stood at the edge of the road looking in both directions for a minute, scratching his stubbly chin. He nodded his head as if he had made an important decision and walked slowly to his car. He got in, started the car, put it in drive and headed in the opposite direction the young biker had headed. Unfortunately, while opening his door he set his coffee down on the top of his car and forgot it until he pulled out of the station and the coffee became a waterfall over his whole back window.

Rocket Adams drove casually, just under the speed limit so other cars would pass him. He wasn't in a hurry, he let his mind wander. He mentally put himself into the mind of his prey and tried to think of what he would do in the same situation. The houses at this end of town were few and far between, and with the economy like it was, there were plenty of abandoned looking houses along that route. As one of the houses would come into view, he would slow down and scrutinize the the tall grasses that grew in the yard. If he saw tracks, he would slow down more for a better look. After a few houses he saw what he needed. He carefully backed into a driveway that was bordered by a privacy fence that would conceal his car from the passing traffic. Then, he sat and waited.

David rode his bike through unfamiliar neighborhoods and side roads in his attempt to lose the police officer that he thought was following him. He soon realized he had been gone longer than he had hoped to be, and none of the roads he traveled took him where he thought they would go. None of the surroundings looked like anything he could remember passing before. The sun had started it's trek towards the horizon and he knew daylight was running out. He started to imagine Circe, all alone, waking up scared and not knowing what to do, probably hungry. He stopped his bike in the middle of the lonely road. He turned the bike around with a twisting of his wrist and bolted back the way he came, ignoring the speed limit signs as he passed them in a blur.

Circe looked outside through the window on the door. The long grass was brown and wispy, making what seemed like drastic movements considering the small breeze blowing. Her mind wandered. She could imagine herself running through the grasses, dancing in circles, even falling down so she could watch the clouds in the sky framed by wisps of grass around her as she lay there. The setting sun seemed to light the grass afire as the leaves of grass waved their amber fronds. Then she saw herself running through the grass as it was on fire, slowly setting her pants legs aflame. She shook off the reverie and turned back into the empty house that was getting darker and darker as the sun went down.

Circe shouldered her back pack and walked carefully up the stairs, conscious of every creak and squeak of the the steps. They seemed to echo in the solitude. Cobwebs caught her in her face and she whipped her arms around her head, wrapping the webs around her arms, stirring up the dust that was left to gather after the previous tenants left. She tried in vain to stifle the sneezes that followed. At the top of the stairs, the setting sun pierced through the windows, illuminating the landing in front of what she assumed was the bedroom doors. She walked to the window and stared out across the yard. She watched the road out front, hoping David would return shortly. The sun slipped behind the pines in the distance, and she continued to stare as the moon made it's appearance.

Rocket Adams had fallen asleep in his car. He could fall asleep about anywhere and since his coffee took a spill, he couldn't keep his eyes open. His open windows let the evening breeze blow through and he got more comfortable than he thought possible in his cramped sedan. The sun had gone down behind the trees, and the crickets symphony was his lullaby. Even though he was fast asleep, he was a light sleeper. He was aware of all the noises around him and they helped shape his dreams as he snored. In his dreams he played the detective as well. Looking where the others could not, seeing what others didn't, making sense out of nonsense. In his dream, he saw the young man from the gas station. He saw the motorcycle as the young man mounted it. He saw the man kick start the bike and he heard the motor roar to life. As if this was his cue, he slowly opened his eyes to the darkness surrounding him and saw the young man speed by his parked car without even a glance. He watched the tail light getting smaller as it went up the road before starting up his car and casually following the young man.

David slowed his speed when he approached the abandoned house.He maneuvered the bike around the back of the house and parked it. He jumped off the bike so quickly that he had forgotten the groceries he purchased in his saddle bag. He rushed to the door calling Circe's name. He stopped when he ascended the porch steps and wondered about the silence that surrounded him. It seemed that even the familiar night sounds had been enveloped in a blanket of silence. He attributed it to the long bike ride back from the store and years of rock concerts, but something did not feel right to him. David pushed the door open and the first thing he noticed was Circe's back pack missing from it's spot by the door.

Circe explored the abandoned house with a child-like wonder. They had gotten to the house as darkness fell the night before, and they had not bothered looking around too much when they arrived. They had not planned on staying, wanting to travel at night to avoid detection. She stood at the top of the stairs as the darkness finished creeping around her and began digging in her back pack to find a small flashlight. The flashlight's small beam lanced through the shadows. She was more aware of the cobwebs as she began her exploration, waving her arm ahead of her like she was stirring the air, stopping only to occasionally wipe off the dusty webs coating her arm. She followed the smooth wooden handrail that lined the balcony, pushing open the doors she passed. After a few doors, she lost some of her anxiety. Although the rooms were bigger than any she had ever stayed in, they were empty and dusty, and not at all full of monsters or treasures. A relaxation washed over her in her disappointment/comfort at the realization of how ordinary things were. Aside from the cobwebs she encountered, she walked with more confidence as she went from room to room. Without warning, a loud crashing sound reverberated though the house making Circe drop her flashlight. She stared wide-eyed as the flashlight rolled across the floor, casting strange shadows on the walls around her, then fell off the balcony, extinguishing abruptly as it hit the floor below.

Rocket always felt refreshed after one of his naps, no matter how long or short it was. He followed the motorcycle from a safe distance to avoid being seen since there were not many cars on the roads they were on. The taillight looked like the ember of a cigarette in the distance. He didn't have to follow it very far, watching the light veer to the right and disappear. Rocket kept his speed even as he drove past the house that the motorcycle turned into. It was obviously vacant, he could tell by the uncut lawn and peeling paint. He watched the bike coast around the back of the house in his peripheral vision as he passed. He continued down the road, switching off his headlights as he pulled his car into a driveway several houses down the road. Turning his car around, he slowly crept back up the street and stopped just short of the vacant house that the young man went behind. Rocket switched off his car, and reached in his jacket and removed his pistol. He checked the ammunition, and then returned the gun to it's holster before carefully getting out of his car, shutting the door as quietly as he could.

 David stepped into the house, quietly. He tried calling out for Circe once he saw her back pack missing, but it was too quiet and his voice seemed too small to crack the silence. He noticed the blankets where they had slept were still where they had been when he left earlier. The darkness did not deter him like the silence did. He walked down a hallway, his boots scuffling the floor raised a musty scent he hadn't noticed before. He turned a corner and noticed the stairway and balcony above. Moonlight had entered and lit the room like some eerie horror movie, casting long shadows across the floor. David stepped into the room and his foot kicked something small and hard that rolled across the floor. He bent down and picked up Circe's familiar flashlight and dread washed over him like a tsunami.

After dropping the flashlight, Circe stumbled her way back to the stairs. Holding the railing carefully as she made her trip down the stairs. She was still visibly shaken from the loud sounds she heard downstairs, but her new found confidence ensured her steps in the darkness. She wasn't aware exactly where the bottom step was until she tried to take another step and was nearly thrown off balance when her foot did not descend like she imagined it would. That was when she felt the hand enclose around her wrist.

The grip was one she recognized unfortunately. Only one person had ever grabbed her like that, with the rough skin and callouses holding her tight. Her father, and whenever he did grab her like that, she knew it was for nothing good.

Circe felt the familiar grip of her father's around her wrist. She tried to free herself to no avail. Her wrist felt like it might break because she was tugging at it so hard. A cold sweat broke across her forehead. She shook her whole body trying to free herself, flailing like an epileptic. The entire time she struggled, she couldn't bring herself to look at her father. She knew he was dead, but he was also right here with her, holding her in his binding grip. A madness gripped her mind as she shook herself like a wet dog in his unerring hold. Goose bumps prickled her arms and her mind felt like it was underwater. Soon, without her knowing it was happening, her eyes rolled backwards and her knees buckled as her vision went dark.

Circe woke up, or she just thought she did. It felt like her eyes were open, but the darkness was no different than when they were closed. Instinctively, she reached for her eyes and without being able to see, she hit herself in the face, her fingers poking her eyes harder than she would have. She racked her brain trying to remember what was happening, but everything was mixed together, nothing making sense. She remembered leaving her father's body, lifeless on the floor. She rubbed her wrists recalling her father grabbing her, but did that happen before his death or after? After made no sense, but she couldn't put the events that transpired into any order that made any sense. She thought of the long motorcycle rides with David, but couldn't put anything into perspective. She pulled her knees up to her chest and cried through eyes she didn't know were closed.

David picked up the flashlight and shook it. He couldn't make it work. He had the bad feeling that Circe had left because he was gone too long, and she got tired of waiting. Even though her flashlight was there, he knew she didn't go anywhere without her back pack. That was the first thing he noticed gone when he walked into the house. He decided she must have started walking, probably mad at him, probably afraid in the darkness. He went to the room where they slept and began gathering the blankets they slept in the night before. He had them balled up in his arms when he turned to the door and saw a large man filling the doorway, gun in his hand.

Rocket Adams didn't bother walking with any stealth after seeing the young man tear up the driveway and dash into the house. When he was about halfway up the drive, he heard screaming coming from inside the darkened house. The young man was calling out the name of the daughter of the dead man. Rocket stopped and listened, shaking his head at the young man. Rocket heard the young man's voice start to break as he was calling out for Circe, then he could hear the young man's boots stomping through the house, getting louder, coming closer to the door. Rocket glanced around to find some cover in the abandoned yard. Eyeing some bushes next to the driveway, he stooped down and drew his revolver. He knelt next to the bushes and didn't see the other figure come up behind him and strike him across his temple. The figure stood over the prone form of Rocket, smiling, and reached down to pick up the revolver.

David saw the silhouette of the figure in the moonlit door way with a gun in their hand. Dropping the blankets in his hand, he didn't think as he took off running. He ran farther into the house than he had explored before. He expected to hear and feel a gunshot once he started running, but none came. He turned corners and slammed doors to put distance between him and his pursuer. He saw the stairs and didn't make that horrible decision made so often in horror movies and take them, stranding him in a room above the ground. He ran through a door into the kitchen area of the house. He turned so quickly into the room that he did not see the other figure behind the door. Without hesitation, the other figure hit David across his head and he crumpled onto the floor. He was able to see Circe's back pack open on a table in the middle of the room with it's contents strewn about before his vision went black and he dreamed horrible dreams.

The creature writhed as it walked, undisguised once the interlopers were subdued. In it's natural state it looked like a man made of yarn, or thousands of squirming worms in the shape of a human. The strange fibers that made up the creature were seemingly separate yet would work together as one and could mimic any other form that the creature had seen or even imagined. All of these changes would happen instantaneous, with the speed of the creatures thought. The Creature slithered into the kitchen where a similar creature was rummaging through the back pack of one of the intruders. The creatures communicated between one another with what sounded like clicks and hisses as they examined items that they pulled out. The crashing sound of the back door startled the creatures for a moment until they realized it was the other creature, dragging behind him the limp form of Rocket Adams.

Many years before the ranch house was built, not many people lived around the area this far out of the town proper. Hunters shunned the region for lack of game, even though a natural stream ran through the woods. This stretch of land had been forgotten until the profits from land sales were too good to overlook. Developers carved out tracts that meandered through the natural surroundings, with spacious yards and ridiculously sized houses built from the cheapest materials money could buy. Through the years, people came and went, and the houses were eventually vacated, one by one, until the whole development was a ghost village, set far enough from town to be forgotten by even the rebellious teens with nothing to do.Before the developers, before the hunters, this stretch of land was a sacred grove held in high regard by the natives of the region. They held special ceremonies beside the meandering stream that honored their ancestors and the spirits that guided them in their simple lives. They gathered in their sacred spot many times during the year, marking specific times in regard to the sun's path through the sky, and the stars travels through the night. As the years passed by, fewer and fewer natives visited the grove due to their declining numbers through diseases brought into the country by recent immigrants. After many years, only a small group of the natives of the region were left, living meagerly off the land very near the stream that ran through the grove. Occasionally, they would see one or two of the immigrants; either lost or hunting; but would always shy away from any contact with them. It wasn't long before the immigrants were aware of the natives and wanted them gone for various ridiculous reasons. A drunken group of the local immigrants had the idea to run them out of the area, but it quickly turned into something they all had not intended. They had not expected the natives to put up any resistance, so when they were met by the opposition, they answered with ferocity. By the end of the night, the immigrants couldn't look one another in the eyes due to the atrocious acts they had committed. They piled the bodies of the natives into their small huts by the stream and set them ablaze with the vow never to speak of the events of the night for as long as they lived. One of the immigrants, Josef Adams, watched the fires lick the sky and swore he could see the faces of every native they killed in the flames.The immigrants foothold was secured after the native massacre and a town was formed named after the leader of the immigrants who had worked so hard to establish their community. Adamsburg flourished as the immigrants families grew, but the sacred grove where the natives lived was off limits and shunned by the people of the town. There was enough other land to hunt and farm closer to the town, and the sacred grove had been forgotten. The forest animals  keen senses prevented them from entering the area around the grove, and so even daring hunters shied away, never finding any prey in the surroundings.The descendants of Josef Adams lived in the town for years. The older generations never spoke of the horrible night they spent together, but the younger ones were curious. The village elders would tell stories of their youth and the skirmishes with the natives to free the land up for their town , but always left out key details of their victory, leaving them with seemingly clear of any atrocities. Josef's eldest son even dared to venture in the woods where his father cleared off the natives. He told his friends who didn't want to go with him that he would be looking for arrow heads and spear points, but was never seen again. Search parties found his distinct hat floating down the stream that ran out of the sacred grove and it was assumed that he had drowned. Josef didn't think so, and he felt then that his curse had just begun.A light appeared through the crack under the door. Circe barely noticed through her tear filled eyes. The light looked like a blurry line that grew in her vision the longer she stared. Slowly the began to coalesce into the shape of a man. Circe backed away from the light as far as she could until her back hit the wall of her prison. The light didn't make any sound as it edged closer to Circe and stopped when she quit scooting backwards. The light figure's surface seemed to squirm and writhe as it took shape. The pressure in the room changed and Circe's head started feeling like she was drunk or had just woken up. She stared wide-eyed as the light transformed into what looked like her boyfriend David, but glowing like a ghost in an old movie.  David awoke to the sound of rushing water. He was laid out on the ground in the woods behind the ranch house. A sharp pain stabbed through his skull where he was hit. He rubbed the spot in his hair where the pain radiated and drew his hand back to faintly see the traces of blood in the darkness. His head swam through his memories of what occurred, but he had a hard time putting the pieces together. He sat up and couldn't believe his eyes. He rubbed them with his dirty hands, and had to wipe them again to get the sand out, but the scene before his eyes did not change. A village, complete with small huts and cook fires, was laid out before him, glowing in the moonlight. People went about their business without notice of him, preparing foods and tending the fires and going in and out of the little huts that lined the creek. He watched them, dreamily, not sure if he was hallucinating until suddenly from the direction of the ranch house another ghostly group made an appearance that sent the natives of the region scurrying, scooping up the young and hiding in the ephemeral huts. The newcomers swooped down through the creek valley, destroying everything they came across. David's eyes widened when he thought he saw the face of the police officer he had seen at the convenience store riding into the village, torch in hand, and coming right at him.

David cringed as the ghostly horse trampled him, yet he felt no pain. The apparition just kept going through him as if David was not real. He watched as the leader of the group of rampaging spirits razed the camp of the natives, striking the people when they came within reach of their mounts, and setting fires where they could do the most damage. A lone woman came out from within one of the huts shaking a gnarled stick that had various bones and feathers attached by leather strips. The leaders horse bolted straight for this lonely figure, and she wasn't as fortunate as David. She was trampled underfoot of the horse while the rider slid from the saddle. He held his gun in his white knuckles as he struck the woman across her head. She took the blow like she had been prepared to take it, and coming from within her small frame, David could hear a mysterious chant, low and ululating. The leader of the group of attackers stared down at the woman, called her a witch , and proceeded to pummel her until the chanting ceased. She lay broken and twisted at his feet, soft sounds coming from her instead of the steady chant. The leader then turned and stared straight at David with a wicked smile crossing his lips.

Rocket Adams' head pounded with every heartbeat. He was totally disoriented, unaware of where he was, and what had happened. The last he remembered, he was stalking the young man he sought as he approached the abandoned ranch house outside of town. There was a sharp pain in his wrists and ankles, the ropes that bound him were tight, but weren't cutting off the circulation. Tears welled in his eyes from the pain, but they ran up over his forehead instead of over his cheeks. It was then he realized he was tied upside down in some dark room. Lots of strange thoughts entered his head as he hung there. Foremost in his mind was the decision to return to this God forsaken town after he was passed up for several promotions in the busy city he had fled to after leaving the town he grew up in. In the city, it was everyone for themselves, and Rocket had had enough of it. He dreaded the return to the town, but jobs were hard to come by and the detective job he was offered could be considered a promotion, just not a promotion in pay. He didn't know his first case back in town was the murder of his twin brother and the search for his missing niece who he had never met.

  Circe stared at the apparition that looked like a glowing version of her boyfriend David. She could not bring herself to believe that what she saw was actually him, no matter how weird things were at the moment. The glowing David just stood there, emitting no sounds, making no movements. Slowly, Circe rose from the floor to stand up, using her hand along the wall to support herself. Thoughts seemed to flood her mind of the recent events. Almost on cue, with each new thought, the glowing apparition changed as if reading her thoughts. When the figure started to change, Circe's eyes widened from the shock of seeing her dead father standing before her, complete with the bullet holes left by David's gun.

David stood up as the ghostly apparitions of the villagers ran around him and through the trees around the village. The leader of the marauders kept grinning at David as he approached the young man. Phantasmal flames leaped from the huts as the other attackers assaulted the encampment. Time seemed to stand still as David watched the attack, yet at the same time the ghosts moved about with a liquidity that made everything happen very quickly. The leader's grin never left his face as he stalked through the village. David froze as the leader stepped to him and through him. David held his breath as the leader went through his body as if he was the one who was not real. The whole time the attack was going on , David didn't notice the quietness until the phantom passed through him. David turned when the leader passed through him and noticed the villager on the ground that was the real target of the leader's assault. It was then that David began hearing the wailing of the villager on the ground before the leader, using sounds that he could not recognize as words. The sounds reverberated through the trees making the attacking phantoms halt in their assault and stare at the leader as he commenced his onslaught. The villager's voice was quieted with every blow of the leader, yet the echoing of the villagers curse carried through the forest. The leader stood over the phantasmal corpse of the villager with a strange look on his face and the rest of the attackers dropped their weapons as they stared at their fearsome leader. David was upset and confused at the scene he had witnessed, especially when everything disappeared and the darkness returned to the glade. He wondered if the hit on his head he took earlier had made him hallucinate until he could still hear the faint sound of the villager's curse echoing in the quiet forest.

  Shock gripped Circe as she witnessed the creature's transformation into her dead father. She screamed and pushed herself off the wall that was holding her up. Circe threw her shoulder into what appeared to be her father, but there was no impact. When she came into contact with the being, it lost it's solidity and she felt like she was falling through the creature. She could feel the small tendrils of flesh caress her as she passed though it, gently wrapping itself onto her in a way that slowed Circe's momentum. Her head hit the door behind the strange creature, stunning her, but gathering her wits, she clawed for the handle she knew had to be there. Her sweaty hands tried to betray her by slipping on the knob, so she gripped it harder until it turned. The door flew open and she hit the floor in one of the rooms she had explored earlier. She scrambled to her feet, turning to face the creature, but it was gone. She stood in the darkened room, eyes wide, sweating like a Olympian, alone.

Circe sprang to her feet. She was back at the top of the stairs , alone in the darkness. She was shaking and covered in sweat from the encounter with the strange creature. The silence was broken only by her heavy breathing. She started feeling her way along the dusty wall until her hand found the banister and she felt a small bit of relief from it knowing it would lead her downstairs. She carefully placed each step so as not to make any unnecessary noises and alert whatever creature may be lurking nearby in the darkness. She continued quietly, following the banister until her hand fell on the corner post, signaling her that the stairs went down there. She almost felt overjoyed that her escape was one step closer. That was when she heard the horrible crashing sound in the room at the top of the stairs.

David stood outside by the stream, still confused by the apparitions he saw. The trees surrounding him in the woods filtered the moonlight, leaving only patches visible, but he could see the house in the distance with his motorcycle parked out back. He stared at his surroundings for a second, wondering about the scene that played out before him, before rushing back through the woods in the direction of the house.

Rocket struggled against his bonds as quietly as he could. He was able to maneuver around slightly, and slid the small knife out of his pocket. Nearly dropping it a few times, he was able to work it under the ropes on his wrists. After what seemed to him like forever, he freed his hands, but he was still hanging upside down. He pulled himself up until he could grab his ankles and let the blood flow out of his head. His head cleared a bit of the incessant pounding that was his heartbeat. He struggled more with the bonds around his ankles, at times his hand's grip slipping from his legs, almost dropping the knife again. There seemed to be twice as much rope around his ankles than around his wrists, but he continued knowing his life did depend on it. The last strand of rope was giving him the most trouble, making him more weary than he had ever been in a long while, sweat erupting from every pore. With one arm wrapped around his knees, the other working the knife through the toughest strand, Rocket pushed the knife recklessly into the final strand. The knife slid past the rope, cutting into his ankle. He stifled a scream as the knife slid from his hand and hit the floor. He tried looking down to see if he could reach the blade, but he could not see anything in the complete darkness. He sighed inside himself and let go of his knees and dropped back into the upside-down position with a jerk, completely wasted of whatever energy he had left. When the rope became taut, the last strand snapped by itself and Rocket hit the floor with a loud crash right on top of his head. He crumbled unconscious in the bottom of the closet.

David walked quickly, but quietly, past his motorcycle in the darkness. He noticed the dew that had formed on the bike and the grass as the night lingered on. The moon played hide and seek in the wispy clouds that hung languidly in the sky. Patches of moonlight moved across the lawn as David made his way towards the house, dodging them, trying to stay in the darkness. He still shook from the ghostly scene he had witnessed, and he was unsure of what to expect when he reached the house. He advanced on the stairs that led to the porch, his boots clumping loudly on each step in the silence of the night. He paused at the door, his hand resting on the door knob. He stood there thinking about the last time he saw Circe as he left to get them food from the store down the road. In his mind , he could still see Circe laying on the floor, wrapped in her blanket, quietly sleeping as he walked out this door. He shook his head at the memory and how quickly life could change in an instance. Sweat formed in his palm, making the knob a bit slippery in his grip. Gathering his resolve, he went to turn the handle and then heard a loud crash inside the house followed by a piercing scream that could not have been mistaken for anyone but Circe.

David tried to turn the knob but it slipped in his hand. Without thinking any further, he threw his shoulder into the door. It did not give like in the movies and his shoulder started aching immediately. He reared back his booted foot and struck the door near the handle. He heard the door cracking when he kicked it, but it still did not open. He kicked and kicked at the door. Finally on his last kick , it flew inward with such force that it ricocheted off the inner wall and quickly shut itself again. He pushed through the door and screamed Circe's name. She didn't answer him, but he could hear her whimpering and sobbing up the stairs. He bolted up the stairs and wrapped his arms around her trembling body. She stared up at him and her watery eyes widened at the sight of him. Then unexpectedly she screamed again, pushing away from him as she kicked him between the legs. His vision got cloudy and he dropped to his knees, but he could see her form running down the stairs and away from him.

Circe ran. She didn't bother looking back. The cool air of the night enveloped her in it's mists. She did not know what was real anymore. Her feet took control of her flight as her watery eyes blurred her sight. She ran past the motorcycle without noticing it. She ran straight away from the house, not knowing the direction she was headed or where she would end up. Unknown to her, the creatures who had captured her were watching and were confused. They looked at one another and back at her again as her steps brought her closer to the stream that meandered through the woods behind the house. In the distance, the creatures heard some muffled and strained screaming. Without words, they turned toward the house and their bodies' seemed to dissolve into the ground. They suddenly appeared in the house to witness the commotion going on. David and Rocket Adams were locked in struggle at the top of the stairs. The creatures couldn't have been more elated.

Rocket Adams woke up in complete darkness with a terrible headache. At first he didn't recall what was happening to him or where he was. All he remembered before being tied up was following the young guy suspected of killing his brother. He rubbed his head and feeling no bleeding, he used his hands to explore the darkened closet. He tried to move as quietly as possible, being unaware of what he was up against. He found the door handle and suddenly he heard screaming coming from somewhere outside the room. He slowly turned the knob, excruciatingly aware of the small squeaks of the handle and the creaking of the hinges. Rocket could see into the room slightly where the moonlight shone in through the windows. He could see the door leading out of the room. He heard the clumping of boots on stairs, and the whimpering of a girl. He slipped out of the closet, his small knife secure in his hand, and made his way to the door of the room. Halfway across the room, he hears another scream and freezes. The screams were followed by more running of boots on stairs, but this time the sounds receded. He quickened his pace into the hallway and saw the young man he had been after, the young man who he suspected of murdering his brother, slumped on the floor, holding his crotch. Without a thought, he lunged at the young man.

David had wondered what had come over Circe, but after thinking about the apparitions he saw, he knew that she must have had something equally as crazy happen to her. He was still holding his crotch as he tried to stand, his head and stomach hurting from the kick Circe gave him. He didn't notice the soft sounds of footsteps after Circe ran from the house. Before he could stand fully, he was hit from behind and sent sprawling on the floor. David couldn't make out who had tackled him. All he tried to do was get away, pushing and shoving at the form on top of him. This made his attacker more furious in his assault, and David was nearly pinned underneath him. David reached out for anything and his hand found the banister. He tried to pull it free from the handrail, but all he did was pull him and his attacker closer to the stairs. The attacker redoubled his efforts and tried to grip David in a more formidable hold, but the shift in weight sent the plummeting down the staircase, toppling over one another. Neither David nor his attacker saw the creatures watching the battle from the open door.

During Circe's flight, she could only hear her own labored breathing and her crunchy footsteps. Her vision blurred with tears. She ran until she felt she couldn't anymore and dropped to her knees on the cool dewy grass. Everything got quiet once she stopped running. Slowly sounds became apparent to her once her breathing relaxed. She could hear the trickling of the stream that was mere feet in front of her. Looking around, she could tell she was surrounded by large trees and their littered leaves on the forest floor. She didn't notice the strange creature kept watch over her as she ran. The creature looked at her curiously, appraising her with senses unaware to human beings, yet routine for creatures of the night. Circe stood up, still panting slightly, and looked at the stream. The moonlight reflected off the rippling water, making reflections of strange symbols on Circe and the surrounding trees. The creature moved effortlessly through the trees towards Circe, making no noises to startle her. Circe seemed mesmerized by the flowing water and didn't notice the creature as it finally stood behind her. Extending a tendril-like arm toward Circe, the creature's senses picked up something unexpected, something totally foreign to what it was summoned for. Tilting it's head like a curious puppy, the creature left Circe on the bank of the stream, melting into the ground on it's way to inform the other creatures of this latest turn of events. 

Rocket lost his grip on the young man as he plummeted down the stairs. He fell for what seemed like an eternity. His mind wandered to when he first became a police officer after he left town. He was more fit than he was now, but that didn't stop the robbery suspect from attacking him without warning as he searched an abandoned warehouse. The suspect laid in wait for him after the alarms signaled and he couldn't think of a quick way out. When Rocket entered the warehouse, the suspect waited no longer and jumped Rocket when he crossed the threshold. Rocket, still the rookie then, had momentarily for forgotten his procedures in an attempt to prove his bravery. Rocket didn't know what hit him. The suspect pummeled him relentlessly and tried to escape, but Rocket's partner didn't let that happen, throwing the suspect down and cuffing him almost nonchalantly. It was after their shift, when they were drinking coffee at the local diner that Rocket compared the beating he received to falling down stairs, even though he had never experienced it. It all came back to him as he fell end over end, and felt the blow of each riser as he tumbled down the staircase. He landed at the base of the stairs, his every nerve screaming. That was when the young man he was wrestling landed on top of him, knocking the breath from his lungs. The creatures at the door stood staring and smiling, until another creature appeared behind them. The two creatures turned to the other, pointing at the crumpled bodies at the foot of the stairs, as if mocking them. The other creature gave the two a strange look that conveyed it's thoughts to the others, and soon they were looking at the scene with a confusion that they had never encountered.

David watched through teary eyes as Circe ran down the steps and out the door, into the night. He tried to catch his breath, but they were coming in jerks, like he was struggling to breath underwater. David tried to get up but his legs were unsteady and his first attempt put him back on his knees. He shook his head, trying to realign his senses, when he heard a slight rustling of clothes behind him. As he turned he caught a glimpse of the police officer from the gas station lunging toward him. David, still on his knees, tries to dodge, but the police officer had already lunged and was upon him. They wrestled at the top of the stairs, David trying to break free of the officers bear-like grip. David tried several times to punch him, but he couldn't get enough swing in his punches for them to have any effect. Together, they rolled across the floor, banking off the banister and the walls. David tried desperately to reach his pistol in the back of his jeans. Right when he thought he had a grip on it, the two tumbled down the stairs coming to a rest at the feet of the strange creatures who stood in the doorway to the house.

Circe stood up and moved toward the creek. She squatted down and stared at the moon rippling in the stream. Slipping her hands in the cool water, the moon's reflection scattered as she splashed a double handful on her face. The water felt icy on her skin, a sharp contrast that seemed to focus and center her thoughts. She splashed her face continuously until the temperature of her face felt the same as the water. The little makeup she wore ran down her face, turning her beautification process into something that looked more like her face had been painted in preparation of war. She at there at the edge of the stream staring into the water wondering about all she had experienced when the reflection of the moon disappeared from the face of the creek. Trying hard to withhold her emotions, she turned to see what had blocked the moon's reflection. She wiped here eyes, smearing the makeup even more, trying to make the scene she saw go away.
What she saw when she turned around was not at all what she saw when she first ran through the woods. There were small huts along the edges of the creek with people moving in and about them. From a distance, others came into the camp from the direction of where the houses had been. Little children scurried among the adults, chasing each other around the camp. Women were cooking and tending the small fires. Several men had been working on one of the huts with playful camaraderie  A look of wonder crossed Circe's face. Even though it was dark, everything in the camp seemed to give off it's own glow. She stood up and walked through the camp, but no one seemed to notice her. The running children skirted around her, the women and men didn't slow in their tasks. Circe walked along the creek's bank, trying to take in all that she saw when she was stopped in her tracks by an old woman with feather's woven into her long hair and a long necklace decorated with various bones and teeth of animals. She held her open palm up to her and spoke words she did not understand. Her gaze was almost hypnotizing to Circe, and she blinked several times to remain focused. Slowly the words she spoke tapered off and the shaman turned and motioned over her shoulder. Nothing looked any different to her at first, the glowing village of natives continued going about it's business. Suddenly, expressions began to change. Like a wave coming over them, the villagers began to panic, the women and children rushing into the huts and some into the forest across the creek. Seconds later, Circe saw the reason behind their flight. Glowing men on horseback were followed by men running after them, some bearing torches, others crude firearms. They attacked the village ferociously, striking at whatever they came across. Like the villagers, none of the attackers seemed to notice Circe at all and she stood there watching the atrocities occur. She saw the leader of the men charge into the camp on horseback and couldn't believe her what she saw. Her father sat in the saddle with a look on his face that she was quite familiar with from her own troubled childhood.

Rocket Adams tried to get up despite his whole body being a mass of aches and pains. The moonlight shone through the open door, silhouetting the two beings standing silently there. The beings didn't look like anything Rocket had ever come across anywhere in his life. He momentarily forgot about the young man that he had been after. The young man Rocket landed on began to stir beneath him, and Rocket tried to shush him as quiet as he could. The young man stared at Rocket, confused until he saw Rocket motion towards the door. The two creatures stood over them, their skin squirming in apparent anticipation. At that time a third being appeared behind the other two beings and motioned to them with long tentacle-like appendages. Instead of turning around, the two creature's faces seemed to sink into their heads and reemerged on the other side. The beings communicated to each other silently. The third being that appeared seemed to take control of their conference, making the other two react strangely, occasionally sending an eye back through it's head to view the two combatants on the floor. Rocket Adams tried moving quietly off the young man, but every scuff of he made seemed to echo through the abandoned house. The young man took his cue from Rocket and rolled onto his stomach in an attempt to get up. The creatures conference didn't take as long as Rocket hoped and very shortly after getting off the young man, he saw two of the creatures dissolve into the floor. Before he could register what was happening,  a warm wet sensation began enveloping his legs like he was being dipped into a hot tub. The feeling kept creeping up his body, spreading to his chest, then his arms. Panicking, he could see the young man he had been seeking fighting something himself, trying to wipe something off himself frantically. It was then that Rocket Adams stood up and walked toward the other creature, despite wanting nothing but the opposite. Moments after he realized he no longer controlled his own movements, the young man stood up with a look of terror on his face and followed Rocket Adams. 
Circe watched on as the horsemen led the charge into the village. Torch bearing men ran about , setting fires where they could. The leader who looked like her father seemed the most vicious, striking whoever was near with his long blade. The shaman who confronted Circe had turned away from her to face the attackers. The shaman rose her hands and shouted to the others in a strange language, trying to get them to flee. Women and children tried to escape while the men engaged the attackers unsuccessfully. Most were run down by the charging horsemen and then attacked by the men who followed them on foot. They viciously bludgeoned whoever they came across and moved on to the next, like a bloody wave engulfing the small village by the stream. Circe watched in terror as the leader bore down on the shaman. A moment before overtaking the shaman, the leader dropped off his horse, panting heavily through his exertions. He dropped his sword as he dismounted, but that didn't stop his advance. He lunged at the shaman, and like an animal began tearing into his prey. After punching the shaman relentlessly, the shaman fell. The leader then grabbed a log intended for one of the campfires, and began beating the shaman ferociously. The whole time the shaman was being attacked, Circe could hear her chanting in her strange language, only stopping momentarily when he was hit. Circe ran towards the shaman and the man who looked like her father, trying to stop his beating. She dove for him, but as she did, she fell right through them and landed on the ground behind them. The beatings didn't stop until the shaman fell silent for the last time. The leader stood up, and the rage that engulfed him sloughed off visibly. He surveyed the atrocities and felt drained. Circe looked up at the leader, but she only saw her father. She had no idea that the leader was actually one of her distant ancestors.

  David walked behind the police officer who had attacked him. He could feel his legs moving, but he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. He didn't have control of his own arms and legs, but he could move his head around. The terror he felt was overwhelming. As his body moved forward, his head jerked about, looking for a solution. He could see the cop ahead of him going through the same motions as him, walking like a marionette on strings while frantically trying to use his head and neck muscles to free himself. David imagined for a split second that the scene may look comical for someone who was unaware of their plight, but those thoughts were fleeting as he marched into the woods behind the houses. The creatures who controlled them were taking them directly back to the creek where David first saw the deadly battle of the ghostly apparitions.

  Rocket Adams was at a loss. Never in career of being a police officer had he come across something as inexplicable as what was going on. He had seen grisly murder scenes that seemed to make no sense, but given the evidence, they made more sense than what he was experiencing. Fighting against the strange creature did nothing for his situation. He resigned himself to go with the flow and hope it would all work out, but he had no clue what that would be as they walked into the night and into the woods.

 Circe watched the leader of the attackers head hang low. He called to his comrades and ordered his men to clean up the area. He took it upon himself to drag the body of the shaman into a nearby hut. His men were doing the same all around the grove.When the bodies had all been placed into the huts, the men set the fires that would erase the evidence of their massacre. Once completed, the men made their way out of the encampment and slowly disappeared as they left one by one. Their glowing forms just   winked out once they were some distance from the creek. Circe could do nothing for the apparitions, once the fires were set and the men had left she felt all alone in the forest. The huts quickly crumbled inward as the fires raged, but Circe could not feel the heat from them. She walked along the stream and noticed the leader standing just outside of her reach. He stood there staring at her with a strange look on his face. Circe stopped, and looked closer at the leader. It was not her father, she could tell now upon closer inspection, but he sure looked like he could be related to him. The fires around them died down while the two examined one another, and as the last flame expired, the leader pointed at Circe with a bloody finger. A look of disgust and confusion lit his countenance right before he faded from view. The forest around Circe suddenly grew dark as the final apparition vanished.

 
    One of the creatures led the other two through the woods as they controlled Rocket Adams and David with their sinewy grip. When they entered the woods behind the houses, the creatures stopped their advance. The two creatures holding the captives faced them in the direction of the grove where a glowing battle was being played out. David, having seen this before, watched more carefully than before, picking up details he missed before. He could see the faces of the attackers. Some appeared drunk but mostly they seemed scared as they lashed out at the natives. He got a closer look at the leader and glanced over to Rocket and marveled at their resemblance to one another. As he looked over, he noticed Rocket staring wide-eyed at the scene. Rocket's mouth dropped open when he got a good look at the man leading the charge on his horse. He was the spitting image of his twin brother, the brother who died at the hands of David and started the whole mess. The creatures held them fast until they were able to witness the whole scene. Suddenly, David saw something he hadn't witnessed before. He saw Circe try to attack the leader of the attackers as he was pummeling an old woman. Inside he was cheering for her, and he wondered if the creature that held him could sense that. If it could, it didn't seem to mind. Rocket, on the other hand, had tears in his eyes as the event played out.

  As the apparitions faded, Circe was left in the darkness alone by the stream. She squatted down and splashed cool water on her face. She felt drained after the nights events.  She walked back to the spot where the shaman fell and looked at the ground. It looked much different than it did when the battle raged. Around her the trees had left years of leaves and limbs blanketing the forest floor. It was not the neat camp she saw just moments ago with women and children running for their lives. She glanced around to see where all the fires had consumed the evidence and time had erased all signs of any confrontation. It was like the grove had never been occupied by any people. A small noise behind her distracted her and she turned around quickly to see the shaman standing where she fell, beckoning Circe to come closer. Without thinking she approached the apparition with wonder and not the dread she thought she would feel confronting a ghost.

SHAZAM!!
 What do you write when you have nothing to write. You ask for suggestions, but right now, there is no one to ask. If there is anyone who can see this , comment and let me know.