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Knock Knock!“Please don’t open the door they will see me here!”“I will cover you up with the blankets so they won’t see you. Just be quiet and don’t move.”Sara hears me open the door. She listens carefully to hear every word coming from the door but it is too far away. The door closes. Now Sara hears two voices.“You let someone in!” Sara yells.For fun, I pull off the blanket covering her.“OMG!” Sara recognizes the person with me. It is the woman from the plane.She tries to cover herself, with one hand.“Girls I heard all that’s been happening in here! You left the door to the balcony open.I knew you two lesbian girls would bring trouble to this place.”“But we did nothing wrong. We were just having fun!” Sara cried.“You are just two dirty whores. You both need a good punishment for being so bad. I hate lesbians!Look at you . . . little slut--handcuffed to the bed. It is just shameful.”“We lost the keys. I can’t get out!” Sara pleas--her face blushing red with shame.The girl opens her. Just one more week of school and he would graduate! Valedictorian, of course. But between then and now he had the Neanderthals to check out at school.The worst was Darrin Knight because he lived nearby, on the other side of the large wooded area between their houses. Darrin was 6 foot 3 inches and 220 pounds of pure pumped muscle. He played varsity football of course. Linebacker. He could have played full back or tight end on the offense, but he preferred defense because he really liked to hit and hurt people.Darrin was also a bully, and so by definition, a coward. Darrin and Mitch had an uneasy co-existence these days. That's because Mitch had been studying marshal arts for the last three years, and while he was too small to inflict serious damage on Darrin he had caused the jock considerable pain on three occasions. Darrin liked inflicting pain, not experiencing it. So after those experiences, he contented himself with just verbally abusing Mitch. But it was an uneasy truce, and.
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Aimed at the center of his power, at his heart. Life pounds within his breast, the life of one who has walked a thousand miles on broken hopes and shattered bones. The thin, barely audible life of one who has the force of Will to move though pain becomes a reality, though pain was his reality. The pure, angry, power hovers within the air for a moment, shifting as water would tend to, violent as life is. The energy seeks to know, to understand why it was called into such a hurt existence and, in that moment, it also decides to act. A wafting pseudopod of dark red sweeps the naked bones that are caressed with only the meanest flesh. The sweep is a question, the heartbeat an answer, a song. It says, ‘This is your purpose. This is your design, heat for life.’ The sporadic melody begins to fade within it’s captor, dims with each passing moment. The energy, though it has not mind, knows in it’s design that the song is all. Must be continued. And it shall be, it also knows. The energy is.

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