The Corpulent Chiropteran

Nell DuVall

Mrs. Kolwalski, Wally’s mother, fed him well and her friend, Mrs. Liebowitz, always had a slice of apple strudel or piece of poppy seed cake for him. Whatever ailed you, sickness or disappointment, food was the cure. Wally loved to eat and the tasty food always made him feel better.

Mrs. Liebowitz patted his cheeks and smiled at Mom. “Such a healthy boy, Anna.” Mom nodded and went on with her knitting.

Mom called him chunky, but he preferred to think of himself as stocky with the build of a football player, maybe even a Dallas linebacker. So what if he didn’t have quite the same muscles or shape, he wrestled plenty of steer carcasses into submission as he butchered them into roasts and steaks. He bet those footballers couldn't do that. Work kept him fit while his dancing on Saturday nights made him limber, if not exactly graceful.

He loved to dance the old ones, especially the waltz and the fox trot. He might never be Fred Astaire, but maybe a more rounded Gene Kelly or Nathan Lane. The swing, the cha-cha, the tango, and a few salsa moves added to his repertoire. In spite of his girth, he never lacked dance partners, especially among the older ones and the wallflowers. The lookers went home with someone else.

He sighed. One day he’d meet a woman who valued him for more than wearing pants or his polished dancing. Still, the odds favored him because women outnumbered the men almost two to one on Saturday nights. He never lacked a partner.

One evening when the DJ played a waltz, he selected a plump girl sitting alone. Not really fat, but sort of chubby with a full round face. When he approached her, her bright smile rewarded him and thanked him for the invitation.

On the dance floor, they threaded a smooth path among the other couples. She followed his lead, but stumbled once or twice. Nowhere near as graceful as some he partnered, but at least she didn't wear a heavy, cloying perfume and she tried. When the music stopped, he led her back to her seat.

“Thank you, Miss...”

“Bascom, Bernice Bascom. I really enjoyed the dance.” Her shy smile made her pale face glow.

“Maybe we’ll have another later.” He smiled at her and turned to look for another partner.

No worry there, he could have his pick. The DJ put on a tango, his favorite dance. He'd find a partner for sure, but all his usual partners were already taken. He watched with envy as they flowed across the floor.

Then an older woman with a white blaze in her dark hair approached him. He’d never seen her before. Her long black dress clung in all the right places and a deep cleavage framed the pale flesh of her generous breasts. Ooh la la! She had a slender waist and rounded hips. Definitely one of the more attractive ones. He licked his lips.

“Care to dance?” Her sultry voice enticed him.

Retrograde Travellers

Ellen Margret

Morag opened the wooden gate which took her into the graveyard. Limping, she made her way along the gravel path to the old, moss covered, stone bench where she had spent so many happy hours with David. This was the spot where they had, over the course of twenty years, met to chat about anything and everything. Homework, hobbies, parties, discos, Saturday jobs, college and, most importantly, sex. They had been inseparable and David had been her first love. They lost their virginity together at the age of seventeen, under the yew tree in the field next to the churchyard. She supposed that, had she been the slightest bit religious, then this might have troubled her conscience because of its close proximity to the church. However, since neither she nor David believed in God, her conscience remained clear and she often thought back to that first time, with a smile on her face. On that day she became a woman and that was when she knew she was hopelessly in love with a wonderful, caring guy.

“Well, Gabe,” she said, glancing up at the enormous marble statue which proudly stood in front of the stone bench, “I haven’t been here in a while, have I?” Fleetingly, she rubbed her aching thigh. “So, have you missed me?” Raindrops trickled down the handsome angel’s face, making it look as though he shed tears. “You seem to be as miserable as me. I’ve cried a lot too, recently,” she muttered, adjusting her position on the bench to try to get more comfortable. “Can I tell you my woes?” she asked, staring at his chiseled lips. “Yes, I think I shall have to since there’s no one else around to listen to them. You know, David had lips like you and they were infinitely kissable,” she said, giving a shudder as a very sharp gust of wind hit her in the face. The odd thing was that the wind seemed warm, whereas the day was a cold and rainy one.

“Okay, I’ll tell you my problem, so I hope you’re listening.” Another warm gust seemed to circle her head, and it was almost as though a gentle hand stroked her brow. “The thing is, Gabe, I made a big mistake and I freely admit it. I should have gone with David to Brazil when he sat on this bench and asked me to, five years ago. It was cowardly of me not to. As you know, we had both finished college and I was eager to start work in the bank. I was going into nice secure job with various perks and a good pension scheme. I thought David would look for a job as a Geography teacher in a local school and it was my greatest wish that he would go down on his knees and propose to me. Then we could have got a mortgage on a house, which the bank would have helped me with. We would have settled down as Mister and Missus Average, had a couple of kids, gone on bucket and spade holidays to the seaside, and grown old together. I didn’t understand why he wanted to trek off round Brazil and go in search of long lost tribes in the rainforest. So, when he asked me to accompany him, I said no.” She wiped away a tear. “I didn’t think he would go anyway. I never thought he would actually leave me. I thought we loved each other.”

Mission to Doom

James N. Cricket

The staff filed out following the general. Jack stood up but he didn’t go anywhere. He glanced over at Dana. Tom was trying to embrace her, but she looked at him like he was an idiot, holding up her hands to deny him. Tom’s face reddened. He glared at Jack before he walked stiffly out of the room. Dana collected her things and began to walk away. Jack took a deep breath to steel his courage after having watched her torch Tom.

He decided to delay his attempt to “befriend” Dana. He waited until she started walking before he followed her, at a discreet distance. She seemed oblivious to his presence. It was a long walk to the hanger where the experimental craft was housed and closely guarded.

Dana had to actually prove her identity before they would let her in. She was never challenged by anyone. Everybody knew her. That warned Jack to expect the worst, but he experienced no unusual scrutiny, and he endured no humiliations. They screened him, checked him against the approved roster and admitted him into the hanger.

The ship was sleek. He loved it instantly. He saw Dana come out of the hatch and start to inspect the engine housings. The vessel had a main thruster from the tail section and an engine under each wing. It could fly in space, or in the atmosphere of a planet.     

Jack walked over to her.

“Hi,” he greeted her, “I’m Jack Ramsey.”

“I know who you are,” she replied. “You were in my class at the academy.”

“I didn’t realize you knew me,” he replied, truly astonished.

She looked at him like he had somehow disappointed her.

“You’re checking the exterior, I can start on the interior,” he offered.

“Okay,” she agreed, with a slight smile.

“I’ll say this to get it out of the way. I’m glad I drew this assignment. I’ve got so much respect for you, for your abilities, and for what you have accomplished. I hope I don’t disappoint you too much.”

She chuckled.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you in action. You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks,” he uttered, buoyed by her compliment.

Jack had an extra spring in his step as he climbed aboard the ship. It was manna from heaven for him as the more he checked it out, the more that he liked it. It was engrossing enough he momentarily forgot his fixation on Dana. She came on board and glanced at him, pleased. Jack made a point of not annoying her with puppy dog behaviors that she got so often with the hope she would think that this lengthy mission might not be so bad with him.

She went to the cockpit and began to check the controls. Jack’s survey brought him around to her and he sat down in his chair.

“I’m glad this chair is padded,” he commented. “I was worried about getting a cramp or something.”

“They’re ergonomically designed,” Dana replied.

“As you will find out, I am an idiot. I’m giving you fair warning.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling, “duly noted.”

The time had passed faster than Jack realized as he glanced at the universal chronometer.

“Is your stuff outside?” he asked. “I’ll go get our things.”

“Thank you, Jack.”

He stowed their gear in the holding compartments. Their bunks were to the rear of the ship, each on an opposite wall, but there were no separate rooms, or walls. The only time either of them would be out of view of the other was in the shower. There was one toilet fixture and it was not partitioned off. Modesty long ago became a non-issue in the service. This vessel was designed for speed and efficiency. Their privacy was not a factor in the construction.

Secretly, Jack was looking forward to getting a glimpse of her naked, although he determined he had to be very careful how he did it, not making her think he was peeking while he was actually doing that very thing.

Just A Little Too Late

T. D. Jones

Sujo Crane glanced at the white dress strategically placed in the corner of her bedroom. In another month she would be Mrs. Sujo Monroe. She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Sujo, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Sujo said. She had been on the phone with him for over an hour. He had been explaining the accident and the details of the funeral. She felt she was still in shock over the news.

“Please, say you’ll come,” Jason Beckman said, “For Gerard.”

Sujo let out a loud sigh. “I’m really busy with the wedding and all. I just don’t know if I can make it.” She knew she wasn’t being all that truthful; there was really nothing else to do for the wedding. It was going to be a simple affair with family and friends. Neither she nor Mark was into big weddings with all the crazy details that went along with them. So there was really no details left, she knew in her heart the real reason was she wasn’t sure if she could handle facing Jason again after all these years. She thought she had closed that door to her heart but when she picked up the phone and heard his voice, emotions of the past came to the surface.

“Too busy to come to an old friend’s funeral. That doesn’t sound like you…the old Sujo I knew would drop everything for a friend.” Jason paused and then said, “Hell, bring what’s his name too…just come.”

“His name’s Mark Monroe.” Sujo glanced over at the wedding dress again. She remembered the day she tried it on. It fit perfect, no alternations needed at all. It was as if it was made for her. Not a thing was wrong with it…just like Mark. She wasn’t the type of girl to like perfect. She was the girl who liked the quirky side of life. She was the girl who did the opposite of her friends, never fitting into that perfect mold. So it was surprising to her and everyone else that she went for the perfect guy who always did everything right and had his…their life planned out perfect for them down to the day they would start trying to have kids.

“Sujo, you and Gerard were the best of friends. Hell, sometimes I wondered if you two had something going on behind my back.”

Sujo smiled when she thought back to the three of them together. They were young and had no cares in the world. She thought they would always be close, but Jason changed all that.

“Gerard was always there for me.”

“Remember when I gave you that ring? I think he was actually happier than you were. He said we were meant to be together.”

“Don’t do this, Jason.” Sujo felt the tears starting to run down her cheeks again.

“We were great together. Please come. I need you. I don’t want to bury our friend without you.”

Sujo tried to look at the dress again but her eyes wouldn’t move that way, instead they looked at the old photo album she had lying on the bed in front of her. She outlined the picture of her and Jason and Gerard together on the beach. It was during spring break in her first year of college and Jason had called and convinced her into coming down to where he was working and spend her vacation with him, and Gerard had a new girlfriend he wanted her to meet. She ran her fingers along the picture and outlined Jason’s blond, wavy hair. It was on that beach where Jason took back the ring he had given her and said he never wanted to marry her. He wanted his freedom and didn’t want to be tied down. She went home broken-hearted but knew if she gave him some time he would change his mind and call her and say he was sorry for the mean things he said. He never called and her heart finally healed and she moved on...or so she thought.

“How’s his wife?” Sujo asked as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“She’s heartbroken. You’d like her, she’s nice.”

“I knew Gerard would settle down and find someone nice,” Sujo said. She loved Gerard as much as she had loved Jason at one time, just in different ways. Gerard was her sounding board when things were going wrong with her and Jason. He never took sides, he just listened.

“And me, did you think I would ever settle down and find someone nice?”

“No.” Sujo could feel her heart aching as she talked. She wondered if the ache was from finding out Gerard had died or was the ache from hearing Jason’s voice. The ache was probably due to both she decided.

“As I recall I had the chance to settle down and I had found someone nice. It was you.”

Bi-Curious Wife

James N. Cricket

“I’m sorry,” said Evan Brown. “It was too great an opportunity at work for me to pass up Jennifer. If I didn’t take this promotion, they would have passed over me from now on. I know you don’t want to relocate. It wouldn’t be my first choice either, but sometimes these things happen in life. You will find a job out there.”

“All of our friends and family live here,” she replied dourly. “We won’t know anybody.”

“You will never have trouble making friends, honey. All you ever have to do is walk into a room and people flock to you. You’re just one of those special people that are universally loved. When I was dating you, I was constantly worried about some suave guy showing up and stealing you away from me.”

“That always bothered me. No matter what I said, or did with you, I always felt like you didn’t trust me.”

“It was my problem. I was never secure enough about your feelings to put the problem to rest in my mind. I would think I knew where I stood, but then something would happen that rattled me and made me think you were looking around for something better. I’m sorry I was such a pain.”

“Was? We’ve been married five years but still I pick up on these worries of yours. It gets old Evan.”

“I am not a perfect person.”

“You know I’m a social person, I like people. I’m sorry if that is threatening for you, but I’m not going to change because it is who I am. I can’t just sit at home because you’re afraid guys will hit on me.”

“I’m afraid you got the short end of the bargain in this marriage. I’ll let you punch me in the stomach if you want.”

“I should punch you,” said Jennifer, chuckling. “You deserve it.”

“No argument here,” said Evan, embracing her lovingly.

“What time do you want to leave tomorrow?”

“Fairly early,” he replied. “It will take us three days to make the drive out west so I’d like to get some miles behind us before traffic picks up.”

“You know I hate to get up early in the morning.”

“I know that. I definitely do know that.”

“If I am grouchy tomorrow, you better not say a word. This is all of your doing Mr. Man.”

“I take full responsibility, Mrs. Woman,” he replied.

“I want to stop over to see my folks for a few minutes.”

“That’s fine, we are mostly packed now.”

“I’ll be back later.”

“I’ve got a couple of errands to run anyway. I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours and we’ll go to a restaurant to eat dinner. This is all going to work out Jenny, you’ll see.”

A-mazing Shift

by Jane Carver

The maze called to Jolie, that tall mass of twisted greenery with coolness just inside the entrance. She wanted to go in, but something as compelling as the siren’s call held her back.

She looked behind her. Al, her husband, sat on a wooden bench, sipping sweet tea beneath a massive oak. The same breeze that rattled the vibrant green leaves of the maze in front of her lifted the hair falling over her husband’s forehead. Hair that lay white at his temples. The oaks shaded him from the summer sun but still managed to glare off the large framed glasses he wore.

Jolie sighed. They were getting older; she was five years younger than Alphonse but felt twice his age. Perhaps like him, the years were catching up. Did she move a bit slower? Her hair was no longer the gilded blonde like ‘back in the day’, as their kids said.

The end of a century could be making her feel so depressed, she reasoned. In just a few months the year two thousand would greet them. Jolie wondered if time changing so drastically affected her moods these days.

A breeze swirled around her and rattled the leaves once more. She turned toward the maze and squinted. Sunlight made her eyes water, blurring her sight. Not the need for glasses or feeling blue, she told herself staunchly.

But now and then a nagging stray thought snaked through her mind like the Teche Bayou meandered through southern Louisiana, beside their home in New Iberia. What if…? She shuddered.

What if she’d done something different? There had been that boy…

She caught Al’s glance. He smiled his face almost boyish in delight at her noticing him. Jolie blew him a kiss even as her heart questioned her action. Why? Why, she demanded. Why do I feel like this?

What I need is something to do. Something to get my mind off these maudlin thoughts. Jolie pulled her hands out of her jeans pockets waved to Al and stepped into the maze.

Elmo's Sojourn

Walt Trizna

Cellar Science

 “I have a problem! I have a big problem!” Elmo shouted from his cellar laboratory.

Mildred shook her head wiped her hands on her apron and headed for the basement door. After fifty years of marriage, Elmo never ceased to amaze her at the trouble he could get into. Mildred fell in love with him so long ago. He was unpredictable, a dreamer, while at the same time a practical and strong man.

“Could he garden like other men his age? Oh no, he has to do physics experiments,” Mildred muttered as she walked down the cellar stairs.

* * * *

They had moved into this rural house in Upstate New York ten years ago, right after Elmo had retired from his job at Los Alamo Laboratory. He was a physicist at the laboratory, part of a think-tank that planned experiments. But Elmo enjoyed the lab work too. He had accumulated a host of ideas and discarded equipment. Mildred gazed out the window of her country home. Nearby, tall electrical towers obstructed some of the bucolic scenery, but Mildred liked the house just fine. Elmo brought along the junk he had accumulated over the years, mostly discarded apparatus from failed experiments, equipment useless to everyone except Elmo. The items included large magnets and four six foot tall Tesla coils, specialized high voltage transformers three feet in diameter and wrapped with miles of thin copper wire. They resembled giant candles, coming to a point with electrical connections at the apex. Elmo transported all this equipment into the basement and fiddled with it for years. He then had a large Plexiglas chamber built, which set them back a bundle. He stood the Tesla coils in each corner, and then mounted the magnets in the floor.

The next step in the construction of Elmo’s experiment Mildred found most undesirable. Elmo told Mildred, “I’ll need a great deal of power for my research. Soon I’ll need your help making the electrical connections for the project I’ve been working on.”

A few days ago a truck had delivered a huge spool of heavy insulated wire, another great expense, and now Mildred was getting a bad feeling. Once it was dark, Elmo emerged from the basement wearing rubber boots and heavy rubber gloves. “Get your coat, Mildred, we’re going out.” The spool of wire was in the bed of Elmo’s pickup. They drove to the base of the nearest electrical tower and parked.

“What are you going to do, Elmo?” Mildred asked in a voice full of apprehension and a touch of impatience.

“I’m going to climb the tower and connect this wire which you’re going to feed out,” he replied. Mildred shook her head and wished Elmo would act his age.

After that illegal task was accomplished, Elmo spent most of his time in the basement tinkering with his invention. He called it his Time – Space Chamber, and when Mildred asked just what he was doing Elmo explained, “I’ve always thought that if I could create an electrical field, then move those electrons in a magnetic field to approach the speed of light, I could create a wormhole to a distant time and place. I could aim the wormhole and transport matter. The secret is the size of the magnetic field. It must be small, not like the giant cyclotrons they construct in the desert.

All Mildred could say was, “If it makes you happy dear.” It kept Elmo out of her hair for years.

Doppelganger

Jenny Twist

Doppelganger, Double-ganger, of G. Doppelganger . The apparition of a living person; a double, a wraith.

 

Christine lay in the bath sipping a glass of wine and staring at her toes. She had quite nice feet, she thought. A little chubby, perhaps, but a pleasing shape, the toes even and straight. In fact, she wasn’t bad looking altogether. Despite bearing two children she retained a shapely figure. She had stretch marks, of course, fading to silver now, and scarcely noticeable, and her breasts were perhaps on the large side. Kevin thought so, anyway. He laughed at her bra on the line, saying it looked like a couple of potato sacks. And she used to think he was such a kind and loving person.

She scooped up a handful of pills and knocked them back with another sip of wine. It was taking much longer than she had expected. She’d had to run more hot water in twice and had to get out to get another bottle of wine and more pills. She’d used all the painkillers she could find—paracetamols, aspirin, ibuprofen, even the children’s junior

Aspirin and was now starting on the rest of the stuff in the bathroom cabinet—antihistamine, diazepam, something for diarrhea. They all said not to exceed the stated dose, which just goes to show how much leeway there was.

She  had considered slashing her wrists, even gone as far as bringing the sharp kitchen knife into the bath, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. An overdose seemed so much more civilized, less messy. And if you did it in the bath, you’d slide under the water when you passed out and there would be no question of botching it.

Except she wasn’t passing out.

She scooped up another handful of pills. She was wearing a swimming suit. Even though she would be dead when they found her she couldn’t bear the thought of being found naked. “Over my dead body,” she thought, and gave a hollow laugh.

She had planned this quite meticulously. Kevin was away for the weekend. With a poetry workshop, he said. Ha! She would have believed him once.

The children were at her mother’s for a few days. Her mother didn’t know. Nobody knew. Except Kevin, of course.

It was all so bloody unfair. She had tried so hard. He, being a poet, couldn’t be expected to work and support a family. And so she was the one who had worked full-time, been the bread-winner, brought up the children single-handed and done all the housework. He hadn’t wanted children. Didn’t want the responsibility. But it wasn’t just that. She took another sip of wine. He wanted all her attention. The children were rivals for her affection.

God, this wine was disgusting! It seemed a shame, when it was the last thing she was ever going to drink. But it was all they had in the house. Two bottles of Bulls Blood, which she had already drunk, and a couple of bottles somebody had brought to a party and had never been opened. She squinted at the label. Concorde British Red Sparkling Wine. Well, that said it all really, didn’t it? The other bottle was some kind of liqueur, or possibly spirit - Old Vic. It looked like a urine sample. Probably both bottles had been to several parties before they ended up at the back of her kitchen cupboard.

She had left a note explaining how she felt. She’d told him already, of course, but he hadn’t taken her seriously. “For God’s sake, Christine,” he’d said, “Pull yourself together. Everyone does it. It doesn’t mean anything.” And when she had protested that you were supposed to be faithful, he had laughed. “Do you know a single couple where one of them hasn’t had an affair?”

“Name one.”

And she couldn’t. Can you believe that? Every couple she knew one of them had had a fling at some point, usually the man.