101 Words

At five, she’s become dangerously alluring.

I’m like a vampire, but it’s never blood I crave.

I gaze at her from the doorway, watching her read. So smart she is, already reading chapter books. But intelligence can’t protect her.

She looks up. Sees me. Smiles.

I tremble.

How can I keep her safe? I’ve no wooden stake. Sunlight can’t incinerate me. But outside our vacation home’s windows, Lake Michigan’s drowning waters beckon.

“Your mom is in the kitchen,” I say. “I’m heading out for a swim.”

“Can I come too?”

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m going too far today.”

She sighs.

“Bye, Daddy.”

The final chord of Schumann’s Papillons reverberated in the banquet hall. Alone at the piano, prisoner 19628 desperately eyed the half-eaten feast to the SS officers’ boisterous rendition of Die Fahne Hoch in the adjoining parlor.

As 19628 snatched an orange, a lieutenant entered, calling, “Let me fetch my briefcase!”

Outraged, he stormed toward 19628, who crumpled on the floor, begging for forgiveness.

Poised to strike a blow, the officer’s expression suddenly softened.

“Frau Glick…you were my favorite music teacher.”

Briefcase in hand, the lieutenant tearfully glanced back at the trembling, prostrated figure before gently closing the door behind him.

It’s bedtime. Demons lurk.

“Mummy, I’m scared. Under my bed.”

“I’ve checked, darling,” I say. “No monsters.”

“The closet?”

“They got bored and flew away.”

I tuck her in and return to my single-mum chores downstairs.

Suddenly, screaming. “MUMMY. I NEED YOU!”

“Coming, darling.”

I plod back up.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mummy?”

“What is it?”

“Mummy—I love the colour of your hair.”

I kiss her cheek. “Me too. Sleep well.” Snuggling down, she is asleep within moments.

I tramp downstairs once more.

I’ve told her she must be invisible after 6:30. I’m delighted she doesn’t know how to manage that.

I learned I had a brother because they found his skin cells under a hitchhiker’s nails.

Detective Hanson balances on the edge of my couch, strangling a coffee mug. “Your DNA seemed to match,” he mumbles.

I smile and gently absolve him of the weeks of accusations and harassment. “I’m just grateful you could give those families closure.”

He loosens his grip. “Must have been strange seeing him in the morgue.”

“Like looking in a mirror.”

I sip my tea, thinking of the cabin the officers never uncovered, my unsavory proclivities. It appears both my twin and I are Mr. Hydes.

“It is you, isn’t it?” He smiles in the darkness as he gets a whiff of red roses in spite of the antiseptic and iodoform. He remembers the blue kingfisher shedding a shower of diamonds from its wings, skimming the waters, as they watched.

“It’s been a while,” he continues. “I missed you.” He feels the warmth of soft hands as she gently removes the needles sticking in his veins. His heart still flutters at her touch. At last, he is able to move.

~

Massive heart attack rules the autopsy report. But they all wonder about the smile on his lips.

I tried listening once. Sitting in a darkened room, Ouija board and planchette before me. Daring them to prove I was the one in control.

They proved me wrong.

Ever since then, I sense them. Hear voices from the other side. Mostly it’s just fragments, whispers and murmurs like a background radio. But then there are the others, clear with intention, with instructions.

Like when I was asked to place a daffodil on a park bench. I did, then stayed to watch.

The lady that found it clutched it to her chest, sobbing, “Geoffrey!”

I like hearing what the dead say.

Heading home from a tuna fishing trip, cruising at 20 knots, the boat slammed into the unseen whale, became airborne, and capsized to the portside. Jim was dead, his head smashed on impact. I was in the water.

Clinging to the Igloo cooler, I watched the prow go under at dusk, miles into Mexican waters, too far to swim to the Islands. I prayed Jim’s boat had an emergency beacon.

Not far away, the whale thrashed on the surface, bleeding heavily. Hypothermia and sharks lurked.

At dawn, sitting on the dead whale, I heard the chopper’s distant thrum. I finally cried.