Al Luciano sat in the shadows that blanketed him in the 'Sacred Elephant Yoga Studio' stockroom. He could feel the heat from the shit he was in, and was trying to look as ashamed as he possibly could. His eyes were on the floor, and his posture was wretched. If only Al could appeal to his uncles sense of honor, perhaps he could buy some more precious time. Across the room from him, in a cloud of smoke, sat his cousin; lodged between two monsterous heavies that stood as still as statues with the same flinty qualities to their gaze.

"Uncle Frank, I really appreciate the loan that you fronted me, but I'm going to need some more time. I'm not getting as many clients as I thought I would with this thing, you understand. It turns out that female Yoga instructers are more appealing to both sexes, and I don't have enough on the payroll. I hate being in this position! I never want to owe anybody money, you understand...hey, do you mind putting the cigar out, by the way? I try to keep this a smoke free environment. I burn incense every morning, but there's only so much the scent can cover up."

"Let me tell you what I understand. I understand that there's a vig on this loan, and I've been giving you too much time to pay it. Let me help you understand now: you make me come here again like this and waste my time, and we're going to drop this uncle/nephew shit, and my friends Brother John, and Crazy Vic here are going to put their cigars out on your face. Don't fuck me Al. You've got two days to make things right. Then it goes to collections, and you go to some dump with a hole in the back of your head."

Uncle Frank was standing now, and shuffling his bulk towards the door. He had a lot of girth, but an aged gracefulness and awareness of himself, like one of those Golden Era Cinema crooks like Boris Karloff or Orson Welles. His goons slipped out first, and Frank hung back for a minute to throw a frightening smirk over his shoulder aimed in Al's direction.

"I want you know that you really missed a pretty heavy roughing up this time. If it didn't so happen that I liked your old man, then you'd probably be in an emergency room right now. Think it over, the next time you plan to disappoint me."

When Frank slammed the door, Al felt the reverberation through his whole body. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, and then dropped them down to his trembling hands. He had to calm his body down quick. There was another class in his studio in fourty five minutes, and he was the only teacher available to lead it. He stood up, and put his hands together in the beginning of a Vinyasa Yoga pose that would progress to one leg balancing on a knee, while his arms reached upwards in an attempt to mimick tree branches. He was thinking of introducing the class to Mudras today, and he needed the benefits of one of them now to align his spirit with his mind. He alternated back and forth between the Buddhi and the Shuni until he could hear people grunting outside, and the slapping sound that the rubbery mats made when they'd hit the polished floors. Al inhaled, and tried to put on his most beatific smile before he ran out onto the floor, and greeted the five or six clients who showed up with a booming 'Namaste', which was parroted back with equally rambunctious vigor. Al hooked his Cd player to the wall and found track three, before going into his spiel, and starting the guided meditation that was customary to his class. He tried not to look at the clock, and he tried not to think of his uncle. With considerable effort, Al stayed fixed in the present moment for the rest of his class. Julie Prio, a student that had been catching his gaze the past couple classes, shot him a quizzical look today as if she could tell that something was wrong with him. Al resisted the urge to gaze at her masterly shaped buns, and heavenly curves, and just winked at her dismissively as he pushed through the routine. He just wanted this day to be over without any distractions, despite her being one of his most tempting. After seeing his last client out the door, he bolted to the bathroom and vomited for twenty minutes. He still had no fucking clue what he was going to do about the money.

©

2018

Bunny Villaire

(To be continued...)

Axel had scads of dreams that were so varied they were spilling out of his ears, and onto the pavement, mixing with the oil, and the rain. He hunched his back against the fierce pellets of rain, and high-tailed it back to what he could make as his car from the fading lights of Lou's Liquor. As high as his hopes were, there was only the beat, and the penalty box his dick-chined boss would throw him in if he came back with a low count on the meter. As a driver for Blue Handle Cab Company, he'd been working for three months now. It was late, he was tired, but he would keep on hitting these damned streets like a gambling fiend 'til he found at least one fare on this dreary night in Gibsonton, Florida. He had two beers in him to keep the ride interesting, and his tape cassette player was blaring the guttural rants of Howlin' Wolf.

Her name was Vicky, and she worked at Sally's. That's all Axel could get out of his first fare of the night. He had scooped her up on Dime Street between Thistle Rd. and Blake Avenue. Her red dress rolled down her luscious legs like a tidal wave of sheer fabric, leaving Axel out of breath, and groping through the darkness for words as he eye-balled her in the overhead mirror. She looked like she had just gotten back from an Opera, or some high-class party that he could never afford to dream about. Her hair was dark amber, and coiled in mesmerizing ringlets that were slightly distracting, but he was mostly pre-occupied by her low neckline showcasing a tremendous pair of breasts that clung so naturally together in their hammock of a bra. He was lucky to have grabbed her at all. Tony was in the pickup zone before his car, but the stupid bastard had stuffed himself with burritos as usual, and called up Axel on his CB to fill in for him because he had a bad case of the shits. For this kind of customer, Axel was gonna have to pay Tony back personally for passing up such a peach of a fare.

"So, where will it be, Ma'am? Do you...are you on your way to some party or something?"

"No...just returned from one...Hey, do you mind just driving around for awhile and letting me think? I'll let you know when I figure out where I'm going, I just need a couple minutes of silence."

Axel could sense a troubled quality to her face. Her lovely red lips were puckered together, and her brow was all knotted up. She kept looking out the back window, and staring into her shiny gold purse that had tiny diamonds outlining its edges. Axel took his three fingers from the wheel, shifting to the right hand, and checked in his flannel shirt pocket for the flask he always kept handy. He took a quick swig, and saw her slip a pack of cigarettes from her purse. He offered her the car lighter, and she thanked him. Vicky blew hot smoke on the back of Axel's neck, and he shuddered with a mixture of pleasure and revulsion. He rolled down his window to let the car air as she smoked.

Taking the long way around to the central part of the city, Axel drove Vicky down some back roads that he had discovered himself in a daydreamy state when he had been exploring just for fun as a teen twenty years ago. He never imagined he would be in Gibsonton for as long as he had been. He swore he would get out of this old Carnie town for years. His abnormalities would not even be that repugnant to a 'normal' citizen. He had three fingers on his left hand, and a tail poking out his custom made jeans. Big deal. He had seen freaks from this town alot worse off then that. Tammy, the bearded lady had left eons ago, and Dolph the Dog-faced boy, her son, was taking big steps towards leaving, which was admirable because he had had a bad case of Agoraphobia for as long as Axel knew him.

"Ok, I figured it out. I think I want you to take me to the old amusement park on Delphi that's two streets behind Main. I got a special friend that flops at one of the defunct offices over there that the workers would use. I think it's across town, can you step on it?"

Axel had a map sprawled out on his lap, but he never used it. He just liked to see the places in front of him, and notice the landmarks, because it made him feel like everything was compartmentalized and in it's place. He was champing on a cigar now, and the ashes were burning little holes in the map. He swung the car around and gunned it towards Calvary Street.

When she was standing outside his cab on Delphi, Axel leaned a shoulder out, and looked her in the eyes with the toughest look he could muster.

"Hey, you need a fella to walk you to your guys office building? It might help to have a hand in case you get jumped. This ain't the best of neighborhoods."

Vicky took a long drawn out gaze to the right and left of the street. The night seemed menacing but exciting like an electric storm was on its way. She looked back at Axel with his shoulder popped out of the window. She took a long drag of her Virginia Slims cigarette and blew it back at him.

"That would actually be quite nice, if you please. I guess I am a little bit nervous. I never met Mario at his digs before, and this place seems strange. You really wouln't mind?"

Axel got out of the car, and took her small hand in his right hand. He brought it up to his lips, and kissed the knuckle of her lily white middle finger.

"It would my pleasure, Ma'am."

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

(To be continued...)

Funny how the way a provocative girl could say your name, or she'd look at you hungrily, and your whole game would be on tilt for hours. More prescriptions of unhinged thoughts like her was not what Mick should have been ingesting right now, but nevertheless he was lit, and beside himself with how Emma had sexily bit into her lower lip. Both of which looked like some exotic fruits or something, but no! They were attached to a gorgeous face, and gorgeous soul, and gorgeous ass. She gazed deep into his eyes, unlocking some door buried deep inside of him before vanishing. Josh passed Mick the joint, and leaned back further on the patch of grass at the top of the hill at Granite Park. Josh disappeared from the periphery of Mick's view when he dropped down on the earth. Mick didn't give a shit; he was at one with the sky and Emma, and the clouds swimming 'round like aroused fish in a lake of endless ink. Granite Park was Josh and Mick's favorite jumping off point when they needed to blow off steam. Mick took a long inhale of the pot, and exhaled with glazed wonder up at the sky, while watching ghostly clouds pick up speed in their lazy crawl of a race. His lively heart blushed wildly like a roaring fireplace for this park and world in general that embraced him, as he continued to gaze up through squinted eyes of bliss.

The acid was starting to kick in now, and a low rustling in a bush nearby started to become so powerful that Josh couldn't help but drag himself up from his spot(such a sweet fucking spot it was!), and drift towards the direction of the weird insect-like sound. Mick barely noticed Josh(the guy looked catatonic!), as he blankly stared off at the active cloud formations that continued to contort above them. Mick was always fucking obsessed with clouds when they where at the park, and he would babble on to Josh about how they all looked like Mickey Mouse, and then before they both knew it, Mick was describing dozens of blue Mickey Mouse's spread out like a peacock's tailfeathers, and Josh just didn't have time for Mick's one sided shit. It made him devalue his own psychedelic experience, and he wanted to be his own man. He was concerned that his desire to make people like him was significantly stifling his own personality. He pushed away those dizzy thoughts now, writing them off as over-analyzing again, and started poking through the branches of the offending bush. He was certain that this was the source of the rustling, but the more he searched half-heartedly, the more he wanted to lose himself in Mick's over-active imagination...

..."So, the rat's wearing a dirty brown overcoat, and looks like that Mcgruff Crime Dog guy! He has an old fucking Fedora on, you know, like one of those old detective hats, tilted downward, and it's casting a long shadow over his eyes. Only just one of his eyes is really visible, and it's as red as a fucking stop sign. He's got like a sleeve disguising his mouth, and he's pointing towards some weird as shit purplish door floating open in a spot in the sky right there above your head..."

Mick pointed towards the direction of the little Dipper. Josh was stationed back by his side. Suddenly he remembered something to say to change the abstract weight of their futility.

"Hey, Mick! You ever hear about how the C.I.A. did uncontrolled tests of LSD on Americans in order to beat the Russians at using LSD as a weapon? I guess they were slipping it in people's drinks for years, and their last test victim was this U.S. Marshall that went nuts, and tried to rob a bar at gunpoint! I think his name was Wayne Ritchie..."

Josh had shook Mick from his illusively endless psychedelic wet-dream. Mad images were still seeping in at a steady stream, but Mick had slowly dropped his gaze onto Josh now, preferring a living object to test his boundless ability to listen. Josh's milk white skin was so pale that Mick imagined him as a chipper looking skeleton while he buckled in to listen to him ramble on about something that could very well put a damper on his high. He was slightly uncomfortable for a moment, and then put his shoulder down so he could cup his head more effectively while he listened. Mick was intrigued by Josh's discussing of government 'mind control' experiments, but he wondered if Josh wasn't getting too carried away. Josh could get like this sometimes. It was almost like he'd become possessed with some incredible easter egg of an idea, and was forced to suss it out of his system or else he'd act like nothing else was of any substance for the rest of the unknown night.

*

Joseph Pinkman awoke from what seemed like a faraway nightmare. As he slowly began to come to, he realized that he was standing upright. He thought it strange how can a person be standing and asleep at the same time. There was an incredible sensation coming from his left temple, and he heard miniaturized voices talking in hushed tones, as if there was a radio station being hosted in the back room of his skull. It felt somewhat like the warning of a migraine, but he hadn't had a headache in months, headaches hadn't ever been a thing for him. He had awoken slowly, and become aware that he was standing at the center of a huge pentagram, which had been burned into some lonely field where the grass went on forever in every conceivable direction. It was an overcast day, but otherwise warm with very little wind pushing anything around. There was a fence to the west of him that seemed to enclose a bit of land that disappeared into a dark patch of trees. A crow stood on the barbed wire fence, expertly avoiding the barbs with a proud, wide stance. At each point of the pentagram star there stood a man. Each man stared down at the ground, dressed in a long black robe. One was making the symbol of a triangle in front of his chest, and suddenly Pinkman's distant headache became piercing as he realized they were chanting strange words while they continued to stare at grass that flowed out from under his bare feet. The grass seemed alive, and moving magically as if to some undisclosed rhythm. Why did he keep waking up like this, without an inkling of what had occurred to him before? Why were things always so unfamiliar lately? He remembered being kidnapped, and realizing that Lise was definitely not Lise. How did these strange people know so much about him, and why did he feel like the tackle on a fishing line? These people were using him, but for what end?

The next thing Pinkman knew, he was in a blue tinted public bathroom, and inspecting his whiskered chin through a sullied mirror. He felt an agonizing, sharp pain on his neck, and turned it towards the glass so he could more properly inspect it the small, red bump. Pinkman's new mystery wound on his neck that he couldn't recall in the slightest was a puzzler. It looked just like a red upside down tree, or maybe an arrow. He gripped chunks of his hair on both sides of his head, and scowled deep into the mirror. His mind was his own and nobody elses! Yea right, just keep telling yourself that, he thought.

*

"Where the fuck is my son, Mr. Quinn?!!?"

Quinn tried not to look bored, and nervously continued to spin around the gold plated ring on his finger with the square and compasses joined together around the gilded, and almost intimidating letter 'G' that was nestled in between them. The seething mother behind his desk continued to try to ineffectively intimidate him with lawsuit threats, and accusations. The ring on his finger was precious to him, much like his time, and this woman was keeping him from his lodge meeting which was scheduled every Wednesday at six pm. He said he understood her grief, and that the cops had assured him that they had this handled, and he reiterated that they were probably combing the streets as they spoke. It was all bullshit, but he used it dozens of times to get what he wanted, and the fact that she wasn't responding the way he wanted her to respond was really chapping his ass. Quinn had only been a principal for a few months for this free charter school close to the local airport, and it already seemed like a sick joke. Far too much drama, and far too much hostile contention. He also didn't think he cared enough about the people in this area to do the job, but the company valued him for whatever dumbshit reason. They gave him a fat salary, which he in turn put back into the lodge, and that kept him hooked, at least for now, in the sinister fabric of the school's good graces. Sure, the company that employed him did seem slightly irregular at times, but when they told him that he could get a signficant raise for allowing them to experiment on the one black boy in the school, Quinn didn't hesitate. The boy seemed to suffer from psychological issues anyway. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to be exploited. After Quinn had used him as much as he could to pad out the pamphlet of the school's 'diverse' student body.

"My son! Where in the Hell is my Son!!!!??!!"

"Ms. Jefferson, I suggest you go home, and wait for the police to contact you. If we hear anything we'll let you know the minute we find out a thing, I promise. It's terrible for a child to run off, and we here at South Central Aviation think the world of your boy Isiah, and want him home with you more then anything."

"He could be wandering around, alone in a busy street right now! I'm out of my mind frantic. Listen, I know this here school is run by a mostly Masonic staff, and you people know more about the secret underbelly hook-up with what's what about sex trafficking, and who be killing all our celebrities lately so tell me what I gotta do to make my little boy return to me. I can't think of anything else that I want in this whole shitty world Please help me."

Quinn whipped his hand across her face, raking her cheek with his gold plated ring.

"Don't ever fucking talk about our affiliations, bitch. You don't know shit. You don't want to know shit. There's people that tried to get too deep with us. They're homeless now, eating out of a fucking garbage can."

Leanette pulled herself off the floor, never dropping her gaze from Quinn. This evil man had something to do with Isiah's disappearance. There was no questioning that now in the slightest. She slipped out the office door, and felt the school closing in on her. Why had she brought Isiah here? Because it was free? She remembered what her Mama had told her when she was applying for Foodstamps shortly after Isiah was born:

"Nothing's free, child."

(To be continued...)

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

I can’t perfect the art of loving you,

I fall short,

I can’t perfect the art of loving you,

With my imperfect heart,

My imperfect heart can’t resist the urge of hurting you,

And my imperfect conscience doesn’t give a damn,

You should know that I mean you no harm.

Your perfect smile is a blemish in my imperfect world

And I don’t know what to do

Because I can’t love you without hurting you

But if you don’t mind please welcome to my imperfect world,

Let’s trod on this imperfect path and see where it leads.....

Chapter 1 - Dear Kai

     Shhh.

     The delicate winds hushed, their soothing voices barely above a whisper.

     It was the final day of August in the year two-thousand and four when a storm flew into the tiny village of Triclover, Switzerland. A shower of rain pelted down upon the few hundred homes that housed Triclover's meager population of one-thousand.

     Despite the rush of the winds and the drip drop of the rain, the town was dead quiet.

     Not much of a surprise, considering the fact that Triclover is known for one thing and one thing only — its silence.

     The decade old cobblestone streets look much younger because hardly any cars drive upon them. The only sound anyone hears from the roads are the careful tap tap tap of feet or the light hum of a bicycle. And, every now and then, the far off moo of an anxious cow.

     And the people of Triclover mostly keep to themselves.

     Besides being peaceful and providing some of the purest air on Earth, Triclover doesn't have much on its plate to offer.

     There aren't any spectacular sights to see or buildings that tower above all others. The academic rate is just average, the restaurants just average, the holiday festivities just average.

     And the people?

     Well, they're average, too.

     Most citizens in Triclover have lived in the small village for all their lives. There hardly is a soul who moves in or out of Triclover.

     And the town most certainly does not have any visitors.

     So, on August thirty-first at eight in the evening, everyone was inside, either falling asleep or typing away at their keyboard in hopes of finishing their day's work.

     Towards the beginning of the day, falling from the sky were water droplets that hit the empty roads like light kisses being planted on a lover's cheeks. But as the night rolled in, the heavens opened up and the water fell in torrents from the gray clouds.

     In the distance, thunder roared deafeningly across the sky like an alpha lion.

     The citizens were particularly surprised by the change in weather. That is because the people of Triclover simply aren't used to change.

     So naturally, every single person retreated into their modest homes like ants returning to their hill.

     That is, all except one.

     This peculiar woman, who wore a dirtied wool sweater, torn jeans, and a pair of ragged sneakers, continued to wander through the rain with an infant clutched close to her body. A small silver necklace bounced lightly on her chest, occasionally brushing against the baby's soft cheeks.

     If the residents of Triclover had been more aware of their surroundings, they might have noticed that, as they passed the woman by on the street, her dark hair, tattered clothes, and worn-out shoes all remained crisp and dry, even as she stood in the middle of a developing thunderstorm. It was as if the rain was somehow being manipulated to fall around her rather than on her.

     And while the woman was hurrying along the smooth sidewalk, she turned her head back numerous times, as if fearing a shadow.

     The expression on her face displayed nothing but fear. Her eyes were wide open and cloudy. Her bone-thin hands trembled as she held the baby, who was bundled in a number of thin blankets like a cocoon.

     The woman knew that the harsh weather served as a warning.

     Because nothing good ever happened to her during a storm.

     She quickened her pace, even though the muscles in her legs screamed at her to slow down.

     "I'm sorry, child," she mumbled softly to the baby. Her voice trembled. "But I have to do this... Or else it will find us."

     She fought the piercing pain and continued to limp along the streets. As she walked by each house, her feet gradually grew heavier and heavier.

     It wasn't just the pain that was slowing her down anymore. It was what she was about to do.

     She turned corner after corner, walking down street after street, until she came across one of the biggest houses in all of Triclover. It was composed of three stories and a dozen windows, each one illuminated and shining brightly as a beacon to her tired eyes.

     The woman began to walk up to the house.

     She stopped just a few yards from the door. Her feet were now completely glued to the ground. She was frozen, unable to move. Her mind urged her to continue forward, but every muscle in her resisted.

     She looked down at her baby in panic. She had to calm herself, she had to.

     His little hazel eyes glowed with a golden light as he looked right back at her. He brought his tiny hands in front of his face, smiling and giggling.

     Immediately, the woman took a huge sigh of relief. She loved him more than anything --- he was the only thing in the world that could make her happy.

     The woman then looked up and found herself staring into one of the windows. She could see the rough reflection of her destroyed figure. Her dark hair, once long and wavy and healthy, was unevenly chopped at shoulder length and consisted of nothing but rough split ends. Her tanned skin was covered in an infinite amount of bruises and scratches. Her cheeks were as hollow as a pipe and her small ribs poked through her baggy clothes. And her once beautiful dark blue eyes were now nothing but cloudy, as if a thunderstorm like the one brewing overhead had permanently decided to inhabit the inside of her irises.

     It was clear that the woman in the reflection was once a beautiful and lively girl. But something had changed that. She was now a haunted woman who had a constant darkness shadowing her, one that she would never be able to rid herself of.

     She'd spent months and months with the poor infant in her thin, bony arms. It felt like home to have him at her side at all times.

     Her entire body froze, leaving her trapped in ice, refusing to let her move another inch. She couldn't stop staring down at her little boy. His dark hair was messily sprawled across his forehead, his glowing eyes were wide open and locked in a gaze, his wondrous smile was slowly spreading across his peachy face. Even at such a young age, he looked exactly like her. Except for the eyes, of course.

     She was barely even twenty, but she'd been through enough trauma for a dozen lifetimes.

     Her body was shriveled and weak, yet the outside didn't even account for a fraction of what was screaming within her.

     Soon, her feet failed her. She slowly descended down towards the ground, and just before her knees landed in a muddy puddle, the water spread out and formed a dry ring around her.

     Despite the magical act, she began to cry heavily, unable to control the deep sobs that escaped her lungs.

     Her parents were dead. Her siblings were dead. Her closest friends were dead.

     And her lover?

     He was definitely dead. Those horrid, cruel monsters had torn up his insides until there was absolutely nothing left of him.

     She wanted so badly to scream. Everyone she'd ever loved was gone, either dead or worse.

     The little boy in her arms was the only living being left in this world that she loved.

     She gazed down at him and brought a shaking hand up to his head, lightly brushing the top of his hair as if his scalp was as delicate as an ice sheet. She heaved him up so her lips were lined with his forehead, then lightly kissed him near his hairline. And as she did, a slight magical spark ignited, causing a single strand on the top of his forehead to turn a shade of precious silver, shimmering like the stars.

     The woman stared at this magical act for a moment. But looking at him became more and more painful by the second, so she pried her eyes away from his beautiful face, shook her head, then quickly stood up.

     She rushed to the door as fast as she could and lightly rapped on the smooth dark wood.

     A heartbeat later, an elderly lady answered the door. She had extravagant white streaks in her shoulder-length grey hair, and her light vibrant eyes shone with such energy, it looked as if the whole sun was sparkling within them.

     "Oh! Well, what a surprise to see you!" The elderly woman smiled, speaking English in a thick Swiss accent.

     But her smile soon faded as she saw her friend's puffy red eyes, sunken cheeks, dirtied clothes, and the broken expression on her face.

     But before anyone could do anything else, the younger woman cried, "Please keep him safe."

     She shoved the baby into the old woman's arms. She then spun around faster than a tornado, ready to run off for good. But she jerked to a stop, her trashed sneakers squeaking on the pavement. She reached a hand up to her collarbone, yanked the silver necklace above her head, and quickly placed it onto her baby.

     She then bolted, running and running until she faded away like a bird in the night.

~~~~~

The elderly lady shouted after the woman. She raced out of the house, trying her best to follow her.

     But she knew what that girl was capable of. And she sure as heck knew that her aged legs would never be able to catch up to her. Besides, she knew this would happen soon. She'd avoided it for as long as she could, but the horrid time had finally come.

     The girl was gone. Now, her child only remained, in her arms, bundled up in blankets and shrieking like his life depended on it.

     She sighed, cradling the child in her arms, holding him as tightly as possible.

     Suddenly, she heard the crinkle of paper against her chest.

     She pulled the baby back and saw a folded piece of paper inside his blankets, right underneath the beautiful silver necklace on his chest.

     She raced inside and set the little boy on her couch. She pulled out the piece of folded paper. There were two words written on the front in smeared black ink — Dear Kai.

     She unfolded the paper and began to read, letting the tragic words sink into her aged skin. When she finished, her arms dropped to her sides. She stared out the living room window, the harsh rain singing a tragic song as it hit the glass pane.

     She set the letter back down on the couch and lifted the child again, brushing the silver strand of hair out of his face. He was still shrieking and crying.

     She held him tightly, mist in her eyes.

     "I'm sorry, dear Kai," she whispered to him as he cried. "But she had to go. She had to save you."

~~~~~

Title: The Stellar Souls

Genre: Fantasy

Age Range: Middle school and up (11 and up)

Word Count: 1,833

Author Name: Kiko K. Prendergast

Why: This is just the first chapter/introduction of the first book in the Stellar Souls series. I started writing the very first rough draft of this book when I was 13, and I finally turned 16 about a month ago. Hopefully that's not a problem! Agh! The second chapter fast-forwards to 12 years later, when Kai is now a seventh grader in an American middle school. That day at swim practice, he gains the Gift of Water, and shortly after that he's kidnapped by people who turn out to be saving him. They explain that he is a Prædentia, a being who is able to gain multiple Gifts of Water, Fire, Ice, Light, Air, and the Earth. And then he's brought to their whole village where he learns a whole lot more. I'm about five chapters in, but I have a lot of other scattered scraps of chapters throughout all seven books of the series (I know that that's a lot and I'm really sorry for that) planned out, and I know exactly how it's going to end. That sounds so crazy, my bad! 

The Hook: A woman and her baby are traveling along a small village in the middle of a developing thunderstorm. She knocks on the door of one of the houses where an elderly lady answers. Suddenly, the young woman shoves her baby into hands of this elder lady and bolts away.

Synopsis: (throughout the first book) Kai is abandoned by his Prædentia mother at a young age for reasons that are unknown. He lives in the human world for the first 12 years of his existence, unaware of who he really is, until he gains his first Gift --- the Gift of Water. Shortly after, he discovers Stellare, the most popular and influential village in all of the Prædentia world. One day, the Royal, an ancient and powerful Prædentia artifact, is stolen by someone within Stellare and given to the Maledentia, or Cursed Beings, who are the enemy of the Prædentia. Because of this traitor, Stellare is now in major danger. Unexpected and unwillingly, Kai and his friends turn out to be the ones who have to face this threat head-on. Together, they must discover where the Royal is, who the traitor is, and how they are going to protect all of the Prædentia world from the growing number of the dangerous Maledentia.

Target Audience: All ages, all genders, and pretty much all of the world.

Bio: My first name is really Kiley, but I go by my middle name Kiko. In Japanese, Kiko means, "rare child." And I really do think that's what describes me. Not trying to sound like I'm bragging in any way because I swear those are not the intentions, it literally just feels right (I don't know if that made it sound worse... Yikes). From my height to my personality to my hair to my abilities, I always feel like I don't quite blend in with the crowd. I'm five-foot-eight, at least three inches taller than everyone in my friend group. My hair literally is the size of Jupiter, reaches down to my hips, and legitimately looks like a lion's mane (hence my nickname: Keeks the Lion). I never wear make-up, and when I have to, it's the littlest amount acceptable. I don't follow fashion trends --- I just go to Goodwill and find stuff that is big and comfortable. I don't listen to the radio, either, so if you ask me what song is popular right now, I wouldn't have a clue. Compared to my friends, I literally know nothing about current events. And there are so many moments were I feel like a thirty-something-year-old trapped in a sixteen-year-old body. I know exactly what I want to do in life --- write! I've already come up with a seven-book-series that I will publish one day, and I think a great majority of the classes I have to take in high school are useless (to me, at least). If I do something even in the slightest bit mean, I have to apologize for it. Or else I feel bad for the rest of my life. That sounds pathetic, but I swear it's true. Some things I say very often are, "You can't be happy in life if you can't forgive," "I don't hate anyone," "You do you, girl," "You're a DING DONG," and most commonly, "I freaking love dogs." I also talk way. Too. Much. AKA this Bio right now. You see what I mean? Before this bio goes on for longer than Pi, let me sum up a few more things --- I live in Los Angeles, I love the beach and everything about it, I have a golden retriever named Dug, I love my obnoxious yet hilariously entertaining younger sister, my parents are the two most accepting, understanding, kind-hearted, generous people in the whole wide world, my best friend is my grandma (I'm literally at her house hanging out with her right now), my other best friend is my soul sister Olivia, I love traveling, I love taking photos, I love coffee, I love baking, I love babysitting (no joke), and I hope people can connect to my stories in some way, whether that be through the characters and their personalities, their character development, their experiences, the story line as a whole, or anything else that they may find somewhat interesting.

Platform: http://my.w.tt/UiNb/4VApAGx5uE

Education: About to be a Junior in High School. Sophomore year, I took a Creative Writing class as my elective. Not much, I know.

Experience: I've been writing creative stories since I was in elementary school. They weren't very good then, of course. But hopefully they are now!

Writing Style: I love many kinds of poetry (except for all that 18th century crazy old English stuff), spoken word poetry, and writing songs. But my heart definitely belongs to fantasy.

(Personality, Likes/Hobbies, Hometown, Age are all pretty much explained in the Bio, and I doubt anyone wants to hear me blabber further on about each of those categories since I seriously can't stop talking/typing once I start.)

Carl was haunted by the desire for a writhing, visceral experience. The last days of the school year were gaining on him like a black dog with it's tongue hung out, and he hadn't even made it to first base with a girl in West Jefferson yet. This peer pressure of High School was punctuated further by his sex-plagued buds who all stood out on the back lot of his school telling seedy stories every lunch hour or chance that they got. The premise of these lusty tales seemed to become more and more fantastic each time, and Dave Grisham was the biggest of all the shit-shooters. According to his always highly descriptive exposes, he had already experienced the highest imagined and sought after dream that all his avid listeners were sexually aspiring for. His claim was to have gotten laid by two girls at once, but now he was busy revealing a secret about his older, weirder cousin Frank. No detail was too disturbing for Dave, and Carl had this sneaky notion, as with many of Frank's candid exploits that had been revealed, that Dave was merely using the identity of his cousin Frank to displace his more obscene perversions into. Frank was like a voodoo doll for Dave's psyche. Despite all this, Carl was still jealous of these perverse experiences.

“...So my cousin's got a real sick trick. He likes to push his own limits, and stick beer bottles up his ass. 40 ounce bottles especially. I caught him in the attic once with one of them bottles spiking his butt, and he about freaked, and looked like he was about to shit a brick when he saw me! I tried to warn him that his Mom was gonna be home soon from her work at the diner, and he flips the fuck out! Tried his hardest to pull that fucker back out, but that bottle was stuck good! I had to grab the bottom of the fucking bottle, and my fingers kept slipping on the slippery glass. Finally we got the bottle out, and his fucking Mom pokes her head up from the attic door. She sees me with the bottle and him with his pants off! I haven't gone back to Frank's house since then. He called me yesterday though, and told me that his ass has gotten so fucking loose that he fell asleep on his couch after taking a shower, and he woke up to his dog inside of him! I don't know whether to believe him or not, but that guy is sick!...”

Oftentimes Carl was aware of the oddity of being the one who was singled out to experience his vantage point of the world from his own particular perspective. It was sort of like he was watching his own movie being played out, and as he continued to tune in to Don's story he became more and more aware of his own existence coming into play. It was like the other boys were tuned out suddenly, and a spot-light from above had engulfed him. It was a strange wind had suddenly swept him up, but he liked it. The summer was starting to seem like it would be a plethora of possibly realities and memorable experiences. Dave's 'Cousin With an Loose Ass' story was losing sordid steam, so Carl tried to jumpstart the conversation by throwing a naked thought into the ring of fiery lust.

“Hey, Donny, remember that girl, Sadie, you said you almost made it with last week?”

Don looked at Carl with some embarrassment, and then smirked, and reached for his wallet. After pulling a picture folded several times from behind his school I.D., he passed it around to the other guys until they had a good long look, and then handed it to Carl. It was a naked woman, exposing her unshaved privates in the center of the picture. Carl was fascinated by her. She looked older then most girls at Jefferson. Striking a pose with her back to the camera, her ass sat on some huge wooden coffee table behind her outstretched legs. She gave a knowing, pouty glance from the side of her sexually aware face. Her gaze said she knew where sex was, and was waving to you to help you reach that desperately sought mountain top. Carl's eyes made the climb up her shaved legs to the patch of shadowed mystery between her legs. Dave could tell Carl was awestruck, and asked him if he wanted to have her number.

“Naw, man. I really don't give a shit! Look her up, I think she's too crazy for me. If you haven't gotten laid yet, Carl, you should definitely dial her. She works at the Woodlawn Mall that's out on Highway 1-80. Some place that makes cookies I think. Keep the picture, dude. I got another dream girl on my mind anyway.”

Carl was thrilled, and his buddy Dennis could read him. Dennis clapped him on the back as Carl gathered up a bag of books, and headed home in a jiff. Dennis yelled something about condoms, but Carl was already two blocks from the school in a fever race to get home. He already had a story he was cooking up in his mind to tell Sadie how he acquired her photo. He was planning to play the good guy that had seen her naked, and wanted to be a gentleman and give her her photo back out of a deep sense of honor. Luckily his asshole step-dad wasn't home, so he wouldn't get shit for being home early. Carl dashed to the bright yellow phone that was planted on his living room wall beside his plastic wrapped couch. He peeled it off the wall, and felt, as he often did, like he was peeling a banana because of the phone's flamboyant color. The land-line on the other end rang, and rang, and Carl became increasingly more nervous with each ring that dropped into a well of darkness. Finally, when he had almost given up hope, a voice on the other end broke the silence that had prevailed for so long. It was quite womanly, and full of breathy persuasion, which was more than Carl could dare to have ever asked for.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Carl, who's this?”

“This is Sadie. I don't think I know of anyone named Carl. Although I could be wrong.”

“Uh...you don't know me...Sadie, but I know this guy named Don that has a photo of you, and...uh...I got it back from him, and I wanted to give it back to you. I just thought it was wrong that he was passing you around to my friends like it was some kind of a trophy. I thought maybe you'd want it back.”

“What! Oh, Don, yeah. He was showing my naked picture to other guys? What an dick! Yeah, thanks for getting that back, Carl. That's very sweet. I work at Chocolate Mountain on 1-80, near the Taco Hut. Can you meet me there tomorrow?”

“Yea, sure! I'll meet you at 6, is that cool?”

“Thanks, Carl!,” said Sadie, and then she abruptly hung up.

It was like a spot-light somewhere in space had been shut off, and Carl felt like his eyes, and ears; which had seen and heard so much, were suddenly forced to adjust to the darkness of her now pronounced absence. He didn't even know her, but he already sort of felt that he loved her in a way. The way Sadie said his name really stuck with him like a pin buried in his mind's cushion. Carl had a heady purpose now, and he felt the sensation of a fresh quest tickle his spine with a raw electricity. He would steal the forgotten bottle of wine from his Mom that she had long since hid after Christmas in the cellar that was adjoined to his bedroom. He shuffled down the musty steps and saw the object of his desire nestled amongst rolls of holiday wrapping paper. He snatched the wine with earnest, and gingerly arranged it in his backpack. Then he tip-toed back upstairs into his bedroom, and waited for Mom to announce it was dinner. They were having stuffed Eggplant tonight.

It was Thursday morning, and he was rushing out the door like a shot gun bullet. Carl had an agenda today that required him not to return home for his usual injection of Music Television on Youtube, but rather skip the end of class in order to arrive at the transit center in time to figure out the pain in the ass bus schedule. He had to find the bus that would get him to 1-80, or at least close enough to the highway so that he could walk there. All he could think of was the ass in the picture, and the exposed nipple of the side of her right breast which poked out because Sadie was glancing back in the photo. School meant nothing but old books to Carl, as he only inhabited the flaming circle he had fanned of his ever increasingly aching desire. Carl imagined Sadie's reaction when he helped her recover her property, and also her tampered dignity. He saw her glowing with the pure delight of a woman that has been reborn. He then saw her clothes fall away like useless fetters, as he advanced on her with a knowing glint in his eyes. When he had roused himself from his daydream he discovered that it was the No. 12 that would bring him close enough to 1-80. Without skipping a beat he bordered, and then lapsed back into his reverie of soft flesh, and fond worldly pleasures. For all purposes, his body was on autopilot, but every time Carl remembered a certain business or landmark his eyes flashed with the living light of memory, as he processed his many whereabouts with the sly interest of a snake who studies his environment before slithering on through this hot mess of life. Soon he was in Woodlawn Mall, and waiting at one of those seats they provide for the dazed, and crazed that need a brief place to perch, and observe the ongoing madness. People continued to float by in designer clothing, gaping at the windows of designer stores. Perfume wafted out of the open stores, with the promise of eliteness, and jealousy from your peers that was only a credit card away. Carl thought about his cell-phone his Mom had given him to keep in touch. He hardly ever used the thing, but to stay in touch with his Mom. The responsibility of connecting with her later tonight and explaining where he was hung heavily on his mind.

Two hours later, Carl was still sitting on the stool in a close proximity to the Chocolate Mountain. He was still trying to gain more confidence when a pretty face with entirely too much makeup on it appeared in front of him. It was Sadie from the picture, and she was in a green uniform, with a cute green hat. Her top appeared to be a green apron with bits of cookie on it, and a name tag. Carl thought she was gorgeous, although a lot older then she looked in the photo. She had to at least be thirty, though she looked a bit younger then that. Her age excited him though, because he adored older women. So wise, so much mystery, and heavy on the much needed experience! He wouldn't tell her that he was a virgin. No one wanted to hear that. Carl didn't know what to expect now. He was so use to dealing with parents when he hung out with girls. As they walked home he felt an immediate connection with Sadie, however. Instantly, when they passed through a tunnel that went under the street, she slipped her fingers in his, and squeezed his fingers a couple times. The approaching summer was becoming obvious. There was signs of beauty and budding flowers everywhere. The night was stealing in swiftly though, and the cool of it was greatly appreciated. They had been walking down Kingsley Street for awhile, and passed a few dozen streets, when Carl noticed a church to the right of them. He squeezed Sadie's hand, and pulled her over to the back of the church to sit in the grass and talk. It was such a secluded and dreamy place, and they both watched the sun escape behind the hill. Before they knew it, their lips were locked, and they were shedding clothing. Carl found her secret place with his tongue, and they immediately were charged like two glowing leaves laying atop each other, that lit up like the color of fire during a glorious sunset. 

(To be continued)

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

"Wow. Ok so it's going to be like this then? Ok fine. You know what? Screw you. I don't need you, screw you. I've been trying to make this work for what feels like ages and...and I'm just done! I'm done trying! Does that make you happy you piece of s***? You're full of crap I don't even know why I care so much. You took everything from me, that's all you do isn't it? You just take, take take, take. And I'm just supposed to expect nothing in return? I HAVE NEEDS! I JUST WANT SOME DAMN RESPECT! IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? IS THAT TOO MUCH TO FREAKING ASK? I want you to respect me, I want you to respect my money. I worked hard for that s*** ok? Who are you to just take it like that? And I ain't ever getting it back am I? Do you enjoy taking advantage of poor girls like me? Makes you feel real good about yourself doesn't it? But you ain't no human, you're a machine. You have no heart. You freaking got no heart! And you just looked too damn perfect and I believed in you. I believed in you. I could've picked another, but I picked YOU. I just feel so betrayed...I feel cheated, lied to, and...rejected. Screw you ok? Screw you!"

I watched in a sort of awed silence as the girl shouted all sorts of abuses, ending in a swift kick. When she looked like she was about to cry I finally interjected, "Ma'am, you know there's another vending machine upstairs right?"

"But it's out of the Nacho Cheese Doritos! Besides, this machine already took my money and is STILL saying that it has rejected my payment. UGHHH I just wanted some Doritos...."

This body of mine is

My home

My temple

My weapon

And my most treasured possession

And I will treat it as such