SILENCE SPEAKS

Silence stood motionless in the doorway, observing the room, patient, unnoticed, undetectable to the others in the room, as people passed by without acknowledgement or, worse, passed right through it as if, by chance, it inhabited another dimension that only I, sitting here watching it watching us, was aware.

The din from the chaos in the room had reached a crescendo that seemed to have no ceiling; no definitive apex. The silence made no motion, gave no hint that it would advance or retreat, it stood unmoved and without the slightest hint of its intention - supposing it had one.

I could not take my eyes from it. It held me captive with its occult being, its arcane presence, what appeared as absolute weightlessness; no particular height or depth, no indication of mass or weight, nothing that would give the remotest indication of holding a place in time or space. Yet, I was enchanted, spellbound, held in some ethereal rapture. 

The room began to lose some of its revelers as they passed through silence and left the echoes of their raucous laughter in the hallways that led to the street below and beyond.

It waited. I waited. It did not move. I did not move. It watched us and I watched it watching us.

Finally, the last of the guests passed by me, offering their gratitude for hosting such a great party and looking at me as I remained silent and steady, never taking my eyes off of the silence. I felt a kiss upon my forehead from whomever she was and, out of my peripheral vision, I caught a wave goodbye. The door shut behind them, the drunken remnants of the celebration heading down the street. That is when I became aware of the sudden lack of sound.

Silence raised its arms above its head, no hands were visible but, from the ends of its arm came a soft visual blurring that encompassed everything as it made its way around the room; everything but me. I remained just as I always was, yet the room and everything in it looked as if a child had tried to erase these images from the paper. Had it been a photograph, it would seem as if it had aged 50 years lying on the ground outdoors, where the elements were slowly erasing the memories carried in the image upon it.

I could not hear a thing outside of my head but I was suddenly aware of the loud thoughts shooting helter-skelter around inside of my mind. I could hear my thoughts as they vied for my attention; one thought squealing louder than the other.

Finally, I looked up at the silence and into the blankness that would have held its face and sent out one thought - “Please”, I asked, “silence the thoughts. I want to know what you are, I want to be like you.”

The thought of having total silence seemed impossible, yet, at that moment I could no longer hear my own thoughts, though I knew them, I could no longer see the room, yet I imagined it still there, I could no longer sense anything, yet, I was aware.


I sat quietly in the chair that felt no weight from my body upon it; my body felt nothing under it, no cushioned support, no texture, nothing solid beneath my feet. I watched as the silence dropped to the floor and, like a fog, covered the floor and filled all the empty spaces in all the rooms of the apartment. Then, it retracted back into itself in the same way it had unfolded and, once again, stood before me.


All I can say about that experience is this, everything within the room - that which we can see, touch, hear, etc. - it was all clean. Not the type of cleaning one does with a rag and soap; it was clean like the total absolution a god would impart upon a sinner in baptism. 

Finally, it spoke to my mind. They will come and they will find you here in body. But, you have come to know me, you have come to be like me, you are now silence. Most of those who know you will refer to it as a death. However, what has been given to you is a birth. 

This is not an existence without consequences, silence can be broken, filled with useless banter, scorched by words hurled as weapons towards one’s enemies, echo the cries of those who suffer. You must accept that we are useless when others scream for help. We cannot offer anything; we are watchers and we are the result of what noise leaves behind. In the wake of the cacophony of the living, we wait for the stillness. There, we will make all things clean from sound. We will take with us those who wish to come and leave the others behind for other journeys to be cast upon them.

Just think. When you have found an old tattered house, and enter it, the silence is deafening. Everything remains as it was, yet nothing carries any remains of the lives that once occupied the space. It has been cleared away and everything is now silence. 

Silence is the strongest weapon mankind has in its arsenal. To not speak out against injustice, answer those cries for peace, those pleas for assistance and help from their oppressors, to not use speech to teach, to open hearts and minds, to ask the questions why, to never use the voice to sing praises of thanks, to tell someone we love them, to share a word of hope; a word of support... silence becomes a poison; toxic in its absence.

But, when one meets with the true silence, it is a place of refuge, a place of security and a feeling of oneness with the All. Silence is louder than bombs, louder than the insults directed at one like arrows that pierce their hearts, louder than all disasters, the screaming hordes, the impending doom.

True silence is a gift. It removes the facade that covers all things. True silence can see beyond doors, past the walls, and into the heart of the soul.

Animals can sense us and use their thoughts to communicate and never, in my incarnation, have I ever crossed paths with a creature in the wild that does not stop to offer its gratitude. Silence is held in high esteem among the wild.

The howl of the lone wolf rings out and silence carries it to the ears of those it is trying to find. The squeaks and whistles of the dolphin are carried within the silence to its loved ones. The birds soar on the breath of silence. You are now the essence of silence and it is your greatest responsibility is to stand and wait; be patient. That is the hardest part of being silence, the waiting. 

But, you will come to know when it is time to wash everything clean and take what truly matters - the essence of those who called our name; summoned us and acknowledged their desire to leave this place and become like us.

Your death was inevitable, but it would not have happened so easily without me to come and wrap you in these ethereal arms and hold you until you could accept it. 

You seem to have known while still in your corporal mind. You could see me as I could see you. You asked to become me and that made my purpose here much easier. You are just beginning to learn, but you have already taken many strides in your evolving. You were the only one I have ever encountered who could see me and made the effort to connect. You are not afraid.

Come with me, I will teach you what you need to know and show you your many strengths as well as the many limitations that await you.

Silence, for many is experienced for a fraction of a moment and makes them extremely uncomfortable. Silence is profound and, in truth, is louder than sound. 

Prepare yourself for that truth. It is the great enigma, a conundrum, an oxymoron, a paradox. But, it’s true, silence is indeed louder than sound, yet very few have ever experienced absolute silence. You have experienced silence, yes, but you have not experienced absolute silence. Prepare yourself, we are about to enter into it. Once we do, you will experience all things at once and yet nothing at all. Your compassion will continue, but it will fade in time and your purpose will be crystal clear. 

Remember this above all else, this plane is made up of more nothingness than mass, and in this nothingness is where their pseudo-existence takes place. They believe that what their senses perceive is all there is. 

Some will see you and wait - just as you did for me. Others will never notice silence until it resonates within their ears as a high-pitched frequency. They will fight it. You must be patient. Eventually, they will no longer notice the frequency or the pitch, they will not take notice of the vibrations that warp their sensory perceptions. They will not expect the nothingness that will surround them and they will not want to let go of this... hologram they have created for themselves.

Now, let go of your reality here, free yourself from the bones and the skin that have been your identity, rise and follow me. Where we are going is where we are.

M TERESA CLAYTON

CHANCE ENCOUNTER

After many requests for me to read this story aloud - I have acquiesced and you will hear me faulter every now and then from immersing myself too much in this storyline.

ADULTS ONLY.  Here is your bedtime story.

I found myself running late for the bus, so I decided to slow down the pace and catch the next one. Granted, this would mean standing at the bus stop alone for another forty -five minutes to an hour, alone; I somehow found the apprehension a bit exhilarating, at the same time I reached into my purse and my hand quickly connected with the pepper spray I had convinced myself would be enough to defend myself if I ever felt threatened.

As I walked, I could hear the reverberation of each step echoing through the abandoned streets. I was never one of those girls who changed into running shoes at the end of the day, I felt far more comfortable in the three inch heels that have come to define me as a woman – but so much more – a woman of power, unafraid, unmoved in a world of high-rollers; men in silk suits and ties, freshly pressed crisp transparent tailored shirts, their skin, hair and manicures as perfectly groomed – perhaps even better groomed – as most of the heavy-hitting females in the group.

My name is unimportant, as is the name of the man whose destiny collided with mine that night. Though brief, the encounter stills leaves me breathless if I linger too long within the memory...

He didn't seem to pay any notice to my approach, heels clicking slower as I assumed a more predatory pace – longer strides, well placed footing that shifted my hips enough to emphasize the thoroughbred I so often played down... the strength of the legs accentuating their soft yet capable muscular sinews with each step, the tightening of the buttocks as the skirt seemed to skim enough to show the power behind the hips as they calculated each movement with deft precision. I stood tall and assured as I made my approach, and yet he appeared uninterested, unimpressed, affected.

I could smell the sweat that clearly clung to his shirt and there was a rather erotic ruggedness to his face, along with a shadow of beard that signaled a long day, a hard day – the smell of his manhood filled my nostrils with the scent of prey, the animal/man, a worthy adversary in what was now being played and I had the element of surprise – or so I thought. 

Let the minutes tick off – it made the game more interesting, urgent, and intense. I realized my breathing had quickened and, I too was perspiring more and my breath was shallow and quick, the heat was emanating from between my thighs, surely he could sense the fire ... my nipples, now fully erect, were in full display beneath the wetness soaking my delicate cotton blouse causing it to cling like a second skin, exposing my vulnerability for the first time.

I watched his every move as I approached the plexi-enclosure that stood as shelter for poor souls awaiting their rides under torrents of rain or pellets of ice and snow... there was no shelter from the full sun that created a sauna-like feel inside the three sided box where we were both now facing one another.

He looked up from his phone and caught me staring at him, his face, his torso ... And met my look with an expression of questioning.  I smiled, then lowered my eyes and giggled but returned to the original posturing of looking deeply into his deep blue eyes surrounded by thick long lashes any woman would die for... He focused on my eyes without a word as I moved to take in the lips, the mouth – he instantly smiled and a small dimple appeared to the right side of his mouth.  Such full and perfectly formed lips, the kind of lips that beg to be kissed, sucked, and nibbled upon. His bottom lip began to tremble, but not from fear, no – it was more like anticipation and trying to remain in control.

"You have beautiful eyes...the kind of eyes that should see beautiful things, witness passion raw and unadulterated, and be filled with images that will visit you often in your dreams." I said to him.

He smiled a nervous smile and looking back at me responding, "You are a beautiful woman and I'm not sure what you're trying to say... or do..."

"Shhhhh," I placed my finger over his lips and leaned in to whisper into his ear. "You look like a god standing here, your smell is intoxicating and seductive, I would like to.... No...I NEED TO... touch you. Would you give me a moment or two to explore further?"

He said nothing and nodded his head and closed his eyes. I unbuttoned his shirt and took my hands and wrapped them around the smooth softness of his back, raising them up and down, measuring the length of his muscles and then across his ample shoulders before bringing them forward to his chest.  He was lean, solid, supple, and muscular. He felt taut yet soft, supple yet rugged, muscular and virile. I was losing myself in the lustiness of his presence before me. I knew I must regain self-control, but my mouth was grazing his, the taste of his lips - sweet, his soft breath warm and even, I released my tongue and tasted him, pulled his lower lip slightly into my mouth and  bit down gently the quickly offering a suckle before fully engaging him in a sensual kiss. 

He held back for a second more before returning his mouth to mine and filled my senses with a flood of desire that at once wanted to consume every inch of him in a fury of decadent pleasuring one only reads about in books.   I must stop, I told myself.  I am losing myself here...

At once we parted, panting and gleaming with sweat and the flush of warm blood. He smiled knowing.  He smiled like a man possessed. I looked away trying to catch my breath and my thoughts... and I looked between his legs...

"What am I doing here?" I whispered. 

"Preparing to seduce me and we will become drunk with abandonment and satisfy this ravenous craving" – he answered.

I could not take my eyes away from the six packs of muscles that led down to the cut just above his penis. The cut was the pathway to his manhood and my satisfaction. My hand was shaking nervously as I slowly reached over and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. The only thing between my hand and his penis ... a metal zipper. The hesitation was palpable.

He gently placed his hands on my upper arms and pulled me into him.  "Another taste of you, let's take this slow" he whispered to me.

Under the streetlamp on a deserted street, behind a window for all to see... I was losing control, losing my resolve, and losing my mind... to a man who was simply someone waiting for the next bus... until I pushed my way into a..... Another world. His world?

I withdrew my hands with a jerk, as if they were scalded. He grabbed my wrists and for a moment I could feel the scream building deep inside of my throat, but again his eyes captivated me and returned me to the edge of complete abandonment.

"Slow" he whispered before brushing his lips against mine. "Don't think about it too much, you'll only lessen the pleasure and miss the moment of ecstasy that awaits you."

"What is happening here?" I asked. I was sure that I was the seductress and he, the prey... now I was his puppet, his pawn and it was clearly his move.

"Shhhh" - his voice barely audible... lips connecting harder; his mouth open and suckling. I opened my mouth to receive him as he teased with his tongue, alternating with more of the hungry intensity of his kisses. 

I wanted more; I needed more. The desire felt more like addiction and I needed him like a drug to sate the intensity, the insanity, of this craving.

His hand caressed the nape of my neck for an instant before grasping my hair and pulling my head back. Before I could define the moment and react, his warm breath found the area just beneath my jawline and he began to lick the length and contours of my exposed throat. My flesh responded instantly with goose-bumps and again I felt my breasts fill with anticipation as he carefully guided me back into his free arm where I relaxed and threw my head further back, willing him to continue.

We were positioned like two seductive dancers, his body over mine as I lay trustingly in his arm in a low dip. His other hand had now left my nape, releasing my hair to flow softly over his arm as he now looked into my eyes with the intensity of a master in his finest hour. With his free hand he stroked my hair, my face, and drew the back of his hand against my neck down to my clavicle.

Not a word, he drew his eyes to my mouth, my neck, and finally the opening of my blouse where I sensed he could feel the beating of my heart beneath the heaving of my breaths... please, I thought to myself, please...

Not a word, he drew his eyes to my mouth, my neck, and finally the opening of my blouse where I sensed he could feel the beating of my heart beneath the heaving of my breaths... please, I thought to myself, please...

...take me here, in this place, now!

His hand was warm as it gently caressed my breast. Nipples standing at attention, awaiting his charity; his gratification...

Instead, he lifted me into his arms and laid me down upon the bench where dozens have sat before, awaiting their bus, desperate to reach their destination... here I lay before him, vulnerable and waiting for his bidding, to give me instruction, tell me – show me -  take me to my destination...

He stood stripped of his shirt and every ripple of his muscular torso seemed to possess some magnetism – I could feel the force of the drawing energy that emanated from his body to mine and mine to his.

He just stood there looking at me; watching, waiting... for what?

I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it back, draping it over my shoulders enough to fully expose my breasts, now moist and warm from a combination of this heat of this night but more from his touch, the anticipation...  breast full and nipples tingling, begging for his tongue to tease and suckle...

He dropped to one knee and slipped his hand beneath my shoulders, then leaned in to kiss me once more, this time with emotion, passion, and purpose. Our mouths explored each other and then he began his descent down my neck once more and as one hand cupped my breast his mouth found the other and did not disappoint. My body was experience pleasure it had never known and the pleasure was now manifesting itself deep inside of me.

I could feel the moisture between my legs as I moaned and whispered yes after yes after yes.

I was in a state of euphoria, and though I wanted desperately to please him – I was locked in the trance he had me in, unable to move.

"Slowly" he spoke out as if he were reading my mind.  "Memorize this moment, the feeling of the air against your exposed breasts, my adoration of you and let yourself indulge this moment of pure sensuality."

"Yes" I barely spoke, "please, please... me".

"Yes, I will fulfill your fantasy and leave you with so much more. Are you prepared to give yourself fully to me? Do you trust me?

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back down, moaning for him to continue – a sound my throat and body made without effort or forethought from me. Finally the answer he was waiting to hear...

"Yes"

"Not another word", he instructed. "Explore the freedom of this moment, unbridled, unrestricted, and feel the electricity that feeds this chance encounter both from the outside and the inside... nothing will stop us now."

I understood in a way that beguiled me yet made perfect sense on some primal level. Fear and hesitation were replaced with trust in this unknown man and the heightened sense of expectation that at once brought me to a perfect measured anticipation... the moments were flowing on their own volition and I was caught in the vortex being pulled to the perfect center, the perfect crescendo, a perfect completion.

He kissed my breasts, each with lingering intensity, and then stood up tall beside me.  His eyes were always moving from my face, my throat, my breasts and then back again, as if he were scanning for something beneath the façade. He smiled knowingly and let out a slight chuckle as if he could read my thoughts and knew exactly how this would change me.

He lifted each foot and removed my heels, stopping to buss each toe and lick the curve of my instep before using his hands to caress and massage my legs from my calves to my upper thigh –no further – and back down – over and over again...  Each time he came closer to reaching the elastic band of my black satin thong embellished with a bright red bow at the top front.

The tease was becoming unbearable. I wanted to reach down and pull my skirt up and rip the thong from my own hips.  Again, he felt my urging and laced a finger through both sides of the thong, pulled them slowly and seductively down my thigh while watching my face change from knowing to no longer caring... I watched his face smile in the pleasure of being the pleasurer and felt he was as captivated with me as I was with him.

He snapped the last hold of the thong away from my foot and tossed them aside. His hands returned to my skirt and he proceeded to fold my skirt up until it revealed the delicate labyrinth doorway to the realm of my female sexuality – the perfect machine to bring one to perfect completion.  He did not open my legs. Instead, he stepped back away studying my body in its entirety, memorizing every mount and valley, the sinuous curves and the paradise that he was about to enter upon.

I watched his hands as they found his opened button and moved quickly to the zipper that stopped me earlier... for reasons I would never understand. Down with the zipper, he grasped the top of his jeans and moved them off of his body in one easy movement. He whisked them aside like a matador whipping his cape in the face of the bull.  He stood tall and svelte, arrogant and self-assured, he had somehow removed shoes and sock, underwear, and anything else that obscured his body without my ever taking note of it – the illusion broadened.

No words.  I trembled with anticipation and with complete exposure to the night and anyone who might pass by, but I did not dwell on those possibilities; I was still enraptured here and awaiting the connection that was sure to define the petit morte' I had read so much about but had never fully experienced.

He stood gleaming in the light from the street behind him, his skin even and without blemish, muscles taut and his breathing audible... he would need no assistance from me in preparing for the moment of connection, he was fully erect with the most beautiful member I have ever seen.  A god stood before me and would soon take me.  The hour was golden.

He walked steadily toward me and with one leg between mine and one still supporting him from the ground beside the bench, he gently opened my thighs until my knees were bent and turned out to accept him.  He paused once again to study the objet d'art that was his; the spoils of the game.

I looked away, embarrassed by his intense obsession with my sexuality there.  He leaned over, kissed my mouth deeply, and then looked intently into my eyes and said, "Do not look away – be pleasured by the pleasure I receive from devouring you with my eyes before I devour you with my lust."  I nodded in understanding and never took my eyes off of him again.

He parted the outer lips and bent to kiss the organ of his affection.  Then he parted the inner lips and moved to focus on the smallest mound of sensitivity with acute dexterity and control. My thighs shook from the measure of his abilities and at once I thought the moment of my death had come... when he reduced the pressure and quickness of his tongue and returned me to a slower burn.

What would he do next; this tease was becoming torturous and unbearable.  He took one knee into his arm and lifted it out even further and entered upon me with such precision that there was no fumbling, no momentary search for the sweetest spot, no awkward movements to prepare for the coitus that never seemed to go well and usually ended in both lovers heaped across the bed and tangled together.  No, he was smooth; he knew his art and had perfected the entry into his woman's soul without any such blunder or miscalculation. 

I could feel him throbbing inside of me just as I was sure he could feel the involuntary contractions from the walls within.  He began to move slowly, still holding one leg up and out and with the other hand steadying the other open and down.  

My hips wanted to meet his in some synchronicity but I did not take my eyes off of his and awaited his command to begin.

As he began to move harder and faster, his hand slid down to caress my buttock as I pointed my toes and wrapped my upper leg around him as if I could hold him there and never let go. His hand softly rubbed the contours of my buttock and suddenly, without warning, his faced changed from peaceful and content to determined and on the edge of insanity as his hips thrust forward harder and faster, his passion consuming both of us, and I could not look away.  His eyes were fixed on mine as if his only fear was missing the moment of my release. 

On and on we fucked, his penis angled to reach my clitoris with each thrust and the tension mounted into a fevered pitch... eyes never leaving each other as I fought to keep my head upright as the surge of electrical current filled my stomach and down into my loins, the rush removed my breath and I was falling, falling, falling.... 

At the same time, he came closer and covered my mouth with his and breathed life back into my soul and then he turned reddish brown with sweat wringing from his face and upper torso, his moment had come and I could feel him fill me with his life force in a cluster of convulsive explosions.

He did not collapse onto me,he steadied himself and kept his eyes on mine, heaving breath after breath and smiling down at me.

His milk was now running out of me and onto the bench, then onto the concrete below.  It had felt like magnum in force and in content.

It was at that moment I heard it, the bus!  I could hear it braking a few blocks away and knew that soon it would be turning the corner two blocks up before stopping here.

He heard it as well and offered me his hand to help me up from my prone position.  He helped me to stand and while I buttoned my blouse he found my thong and had pulled it up perfectly and then rolled my skirt back down into place.  

I looked around for my heels and could hear him moving about, assuming he was busily putting himself back together as I saw the bus turn the corner and watched as the headlights frame the small enclosure we were nervously moving around in.  I felt him from behind, lift one foot and place the shoe on, then the other; I stepped down into each shoe to distribute my foot evenly inside each before stepping forward to meet the door.

The door opened with a clang, the driver didn't seem to notice anything and I let out a sigh of relief and a bit of a devilish grin as I turned to reach for his hand.

"Ma'am, I have other stops, are you going to board?"

I was frozen in disbelief; unable to speak or move; shocked.

"Lady?" the driver offered, "Are you okay? Do you need some help?"

I stood looking to the back of the enclosure where I had just experienced something... unexplainable.  I didn't understand.

At this point the driver locked the brakes and came down the steps to where I was standing, "Do you need a ride or can I call someone for you?  You don't look so good."

I turned to face the driver and replied, "No.  I... I'm okay.  I think. Can you help me up the step?" I kept looking behind me in disbelief and confusion.  What the hell just happened here?

I took my seat at the very back of the bus and watched out the window as we pulled away.  There on the side of the plexiglass was an advertisement for a cell phone and that man... that man, there... with the intense blue eyes that were looking into hers just moments ago... he was looking down at his phone totally unaware, uninterested and unreal.  

Not real.  How could he not be real?  I reached under my skirt and felt the residue left from our chance encounter.... It was real.  I remember his smell, his taste, everything.   I memorized it just like he told me to.

As the bus moved further and further away, I began to wonder and question everything that had just happened. The only real evidence was the moisture that still emanated from ... there. 

She brought her moistened fingers up to her nose and smelled the aroma – it was hers... her smell, her fluid that was still moistening her there.  There was no residual essence of this chance encounter anywhere on her, no smell of him, no sweat, no excrement...

She looked behind her once more as the image of the man on the cell phone fell out of view.

What just happened, she thought to herself.  What was this chance encounter and who was it with?

She caught a glimpse of the driver watching her in his rear-view mirror.  He was laughing and shaking his head.  Laughing and just shaking his head.

M TERESA CLAYTON

GABRIELA GARZA PADILLA - SHARIM

http://www.blurb.com/b/5626190-gabriela-garza-padilla

The biography of Gabriela Garza Padilla from conversations and interviews, including access to her art for the years represented. Ms. Garza Padilla started her humble journey in a secluded area in southwestern United States with a tribe of people called the Coras. Her time there would introduce her to many metaphysical awakenings and brought her to an understanding of both extraterrestrial being and intra-dimensional beings. Her experiences there were the beginning of an amazing life filled with beautiful art. A fascinating read and the art is exquisite.

GABRIELA GARZA PADILLA

STORYTELLER by M TERESA CLAYTON

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/teresaroger


This link will take you to the free download of STORYTELLER by M TERESA CLAYTON

             
          STORYTELLER

“Black cats… unlucky, that’s what they say about ‘em. Don’t let one cross your path.” The old man was almost faced- down in his drink... “They say, if one steps in front of you, just turn around and walk th’ other away. Whatever you do, don’t look back!”

“Harry, what the hell is he talking about?” Someone shouted from the other end of the bar.

The dust covered bottles that lined up in front of the mirror had long forgotten how to reflect their sharp staggering images. The mirror itself was covered in a brownish yellow film from years of heavy smoke and the occasional thrown drink. There was a crack that splintered from the bottom, across the last third of the mirror and out the top. If you looked at it just right, tilting your head a little to your left and squinting your eyes slightly, it looked like an old woman hunched over, in silhouette.

The bar was long and ran the length of the room. Three tables, each one had a matchbook under one leg for balance, with mismatched chairs were lined up along the facing wall. There was barely enough room for a man to walk between the tables and bar stools. Maybe this was done on purpose. It stood to reason that you could get shit-faced drunk and still be able to stagger upright to the loo without once losing your footing.

Tess was a regular here. An attractive woman, she never seemed to sit on her stool, but rather perched there; her long legs pooling over the edge of the seat. She came in about ten every evening to mingle with the other well established members of this lonely loser’s club. She always left alone.

Marv and Al were roommates living in the apartment above the tavern. They came in every night for exactly four beers  each  before  politely  excusing  themselves  and  heading

upstairs.  It had been decided years ago that the two were much more than roomies, though it was never confirmed.

Burt was a large man. He held court every night at the far end of the bar. His seat was sagging from years of abuse from his ample backside. It was also the only bar-chair in the place, made of imitation black leather, with a swivel! He expounded on a multitude of trivia without much debate. It wasn’t like Burt to ever sit quietly and listen to the jabber amongst the other barflies. He was a book of useless information.

There were several others who would stagger in on their way to another bar two blocks away. There seemed to be a tavern on every other corner in this part of the city and the drunks would work up a thirst meandering from place to place. Eventually they would have to find a comfortable spot to lie down and snooze it off. Park benches were definitely out of the question, as were sidewalks; loitering was breaking the law. However, on cold winter nights, it behooved a sotted soul to be carted off to the pokey for the guarantee of a warm shelf to lie on and a dried up cake donut with black coffee in the morning before they were shuffled back out onto the streets.

I was a newbie. Not new to drinking, just new to this part of town. This made my third visit to Harry’s Hangout on the corner of Hample and McArdle Street. This tavern didn’t look much different from any other on the north side of town, but those others didn’t have Tess.

I was put out of the house by my, now pending, fourth ex-wife. Jobless and unmotivated, I managed to set up temporary housing at the shelter several blocks away. “Getting on my feet.” I assured the man at the reception desk of what was once a cozy hotel lobby before becoming the Saving Souls Mission.  Yeah, right.

My first wife ran away with my best friend, my second with my sanity, the third with her best friend and the fourth was making away with my soul. I didn’t have anything else to save.

The only thing I made away with was two plaid shirts, one pair of jeans and one pair of underwear.  I managed to get

my shoes but totally forgot about socks.  The young lady I was with that night barely got out alive.

“Black cats? What does this guy have against black cats?” the question on everyone’s mind was finally thrown out there by someone at the bar.

The old man at the far table looked like death warmed over. He kept up his sermon on black cats all evening, stopping long enough to throw a glance Tess’ way.

Who wouldn’t want to look at her? She was stunning and definitely out of place here in Harry’s Hangout. Still, she didn’t really seem all that interested in me or anyone else here. Try as I might to make conversation she always gave me the standard two or three word answers. Definitely, not interested.

Harry hobbled his way down to Burt and replaced his empty bottle with a new cold one. Without so much as a word, Harry picked up two quarters from the bar top in front of Burt.

Turning to make his way back down the length of the bar to the cash-register he looked up at Marv and answered, “I have no idea, he’s been babbling about cats for two weeks now!”

I asked Harry what the old man’s name was.

“That’s Charley.” He grunted. “He must have got hold of somethin’ bad about two weeks ago. He came in here one morning shakin’, eye’s lookin’ a little crazy, and talkin’ ‘bout some kinda shape-shiftin’ he saw the night before out back in the alley.”

Something… bad? Did I hear him right? “Drugs?” I asked.

“That or somethin’ worse.” Harry chuckled. “He was never nothin’ but a drunk so far as I know, but the story he told me was outta-this-world! Must be drugs or the man’s brain just shorted out!”

“Superstitions!” Tess spoke out from behind her Gin- Rickey with a slice of lime.

Charley froze and  stared at Tess for a  moment then looked down. Did I see a hint of fear on his face?

“Something about a black cat, a woman, drums, and then she just vanished into thin air! Bam! Gone!” Harry shook his head, “I dunno, it was some sort of hallucination if you ask me.”

“Is the whiskey goin’ bad?” Al suggested.

“That man’s insides are pickled in cheap alcohol!” laughed Harry. “It ain’t the whiskey… no, this ain’t nothin’ of the drinking variety.”

I looked over my shoulder toward the man slumped down in his chair. Charley. He seemed like any other drunk I’d ever seen, maybe he was just misunderstood. Lord knows I was misunderstood. We had something in common, so I ordered two shots of the cheap stuff with beer chasers. I had a story to listen to…

“Heard you had an encounter with a black cat!” I spoke as I sat down across from him, “Name’s Jack, glad to make your acquaintance.” I extended my hand for a shake. He just looked up at me and squinted his eyes for a moment.

“Yes sir!” he said after a long pause to size me up, “Cat- woman. That she was!”

“A cat-woman you say? I’m all ears, Charley… and I’m not superstitious… tell me about your black cat-woman.” I prodded him.

“I’ll admit I was sotted, but no more than usual and I don’t do no drugs!” he assured me in a stern voice, pausing long enough to shoot Harry a look before he continued. “I’m not crazy either!”

I wasn’t so sure, but I’d sit through anything at this point to cut the boredom. And, it  didn’t  look like I was  getting anywhere with Tess.

Charley’s story started with a whispered introduction, “It was closing time and I knew I’d have to find a spot out back and hunker down ‘till mornin’. There are a few guys who make it a regular habit to get some shut-eye in the condemned remnants of the garage behind the bar, but it was such a nice night and the moon was full… I decided to catch some Z’s in the alleyway that

night so I pulled some bags outta the dumpster and made me a pillow to lay my head on…”

Charley took a deep breath and coughed. Was it my imagination or was he aging right in front of me? I decided it must be the light, or lack thereof, back here in the corner.

“It was about three o’clock in the morning,” he continued, “and I was staring up at the most beautiful sky I’d seen in years. It was so… peaceful…” He stopped and threw back the shot of whiskey, then wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “The full moon was casting odd shadows in the alleyway. Hadn’t really noticed it before, but then, who am I but an old drunkard barely capable of noticing whether or not I’ve pissed myself.”

Charley stopped and tilted his head as if he were listening for something. I watched him closely for a moment and noticed a small twitch run across his face.

“Charley, you okay?” I asked him.

“I’m fine,” he assured me and went on with the story, “I had this edgy feeling, like you get just before someone hits you over the head and runs away with your last dollar. You get a sixth sense about things when you take to the streets.”

Charley looked up at me for some sort of validation before continuing. “Though the alley was glowing under the moon’s light, there seemed to be something moving in the shadows. I couldn’t get a focus on it. It kept moving from one side of the alley to the other, crouched low, and coming closer.”

I could see that Charley’s hand was shaking. He hesitated, seeming to catch his breath, “I don’t remember passing out there, nor waking up! It was more like I was hypnotized or somethin’. Again, Charley looked up. He didn’t see me this time; he was looking in Tess’ direction. I let my eyes follow his. Tess was still facing the bar seemingly disinterested with Charley’s story. Harry was busily emptying ash trays. Marv and Al were silent and still. Burt was mumbling to himself about some war.

“I listened for some sort of clue but couldn’t hear nothin’ out of the ordinary...” Charlie explained. “I gotta tell ya, son, I was shaking like an old man with palsy! I could sense it, there was something coming and it was getting closer.” Again Charley stopped to listen. His hand was shaking noticeably now.

I called over my shoulder for Harry to bring us another shot of whiskey. The story was getting interesting and I wanted the storyteller to relax and remember every detail.

Charley coughed hard a few times. I thought he might have actually spit up into his lap. Then he spoke, “Out of the blue I heard this high shrill scream. It didn’t stop either. I wanted to cover my ears but couldn’t move my arms. That awful sound would fade a bit and then come on strong again. Sounded like one of them hyenas at the zoo…or a cat being gutted…a cat…black cat…” he coughed again  and slammed back his shot of whiskey.

The old man closed his eyes and when he opened them again I could see the popped blood vessels turning the whites of his eyes to red. He stared into space without batting an eye. I thought I’d lost him there. I waved my hand in front of his face and his lower lip began to tremble. He sucked in a long breath and looked directly into my eyes. “…then the screeching stopped cold.”

Charley’s eyes were taking on the look of madness, “She crawled slowly out of one of those darkened doorways and into the middle of the alley where she slowly crouched down like she was getting ready to pounce. She was staring directly at me. I couldn’t move. I was afraid to move. I felt like a mouse being tested by a hungry cat.”

“So, it was a cat?” I asked, “A black cat?”

“No ordinary cat, no sireeee…” he corrected. “A cat the size of a carnival pony! Biggest panther I’d ever laid eyes on and black as onyx.” He sucked in another breath. “I could see her powerful shoulders twitch a little every time I exhaled. The moonlight reflected off the glossy shine of her sleek black hair. She flipped her tail carelessly to the left and then to the right.”

He swallowed hard and continued, “Her eyes were reflecting the light like hundreds of sparkling emeralds… She didn’t move for a long time; just kept staring at me.”

I noticed Charley was sweating so much that it was now dripping off his chin and onto the table. He took a hanky out of his shirt pocket and wiped it across his forehead once, then folded it and wiped at his chin before returning it to its cubby- hole.

The room didn’t feel especially warm to me. I looked to see if anyone else was showing signs of being hot.  The room felt eerily distant. No one in the bar was talking. Perhaps they were listening to the story. Yet, no one moved to light a cigarette or to take a swig of their beer. The room looked unreal… staged.

I turned back to Charley and motioned for him to continue. He shook his head and took another rattled breath. “It was like watching a movie in slow motion as she got to her feet. It was hot as hell in that alley. I don’t know if the night air had gotten warmer or if I was just hot from my incessant shaking.  Gotta tell ya, pal, even my toes were vibrating.”

There was a small thread of blood trickling from his right eye and gathering in one of the creases that ran down the side of his nose. I wanted to stop him but couldn’t make the words exit my mouth.  I felt like I was under his spell.

He shuddered once and gasped, “The air… I couldn’t breathe. I was choking and I could feel something being pulled from my chest.”

Charley put his hand up to his throat for a moment as if he was reliving it. “I kept thinking to myself, if only I could move my feet and run. I was frozen like a statue to the place where I was. The panther grunted out a couple of breaths… oomph, oomph, oomph, and then she threw her head up and stood on her back legs.”

Charley shook his head and began to speak slower, more deliberately, “As she took one step toward me I noticed something happening to her skin, it was changing. It seemed…it looked like it was beginning to liquefy. Every step forward produced more and more of that black inky fluid.”

The old storyteller’s voice began to crack, “She was a huge beast standing there before me. Almost the size of a bear and then, in the blink of an eye, she morphed into the shape of a woman!  I couldn’t believe my eyes, she was beautiful!”

My eyes didn’t leave the old man for a second, “Did you say… woman?”

I looked around the bar and nobody seemed moved. Not one sound could be heard from the otherwise talkative Burt. Everyone was in the trance, except for me. “What’s going on here?” I shouted into the muted silence. “What is this  all about?” The room seemed to be closing in around me.

I turned back around to Charley who was beginning to look very gray in the dim light of the room. I started to lean forward to speak to him when he began again. “She was a raven-haired beauty,” he whispered as if he could see her standing right behind me. “Her skin was as white as alabaster; opalescent and almost translucent it was.”

“I knew better than to touch her, yet my hand was reaching out for her in spite of it. She was so near that I could hear her panting and feel her exotic breath on me.” Charley’s hand was now at his chest and he was fingering the collar of his shirt. The sweat was still dripping from his chin onto his hand and running down his elbow and onto the tabletop.

“She danced... for me.” He choked the words out. “It felt good… whatever she was doing to me there, didn’t matter, it felt so good.”

“Are you okay, Charley?” I asked him. “Do you need a glass of water?” I turned to see if someone was coming to help. No one moved.

“She danced and danced.” Charley was breathing hard. “And she was using me. ME! She was sucking… the life… right out… of me!” The old man’s eyes were rolling upwards and his mouth began to contort.

I jumped up and quickly made my way around the bar. I filled a glass with water from the sink for Charley and thought I must be in some sort of dream myself or something out of this

world… and then I could hear it; the soft motor breathing of a cat’s purr. Not a small house-cat purr… something… larger.

I froze. “Harry? Did you hear that? I asked over my shoulder. “Can anyone hear that?”

No one responded. The mannequins at the bar did not move. I found myself glued to the floor in front of the table as Charley stood up. “Charley?” I asked. “Sit down, take a sip of this and sit back down. You don’t look so good.”

The storyteller was getting paler and his face was becoming more drawn by the second. He was beginning to drool.

He coughed once more and wiped his chin with his hand again. “I heard music.” He said. “Some sort of eerie low pipe sound and drumming. The drums were beating faster and then faster again. Her body was limber and bending into positions I didn’t think the human body could conform to, but I don’t think she WAS human. Not human at all.”

His breathing was becoming labored. “The shadows seem to be dancing with her there in the alleyway. All the while, she was throwing her head back and writhing like a voodoo priestess before a sacrificial fire. I remember thinking that I might be the sacrifice that night, but she no longer seemed to even notice me there. She had what she came for.”

He turned and looked one more time into my eyes before collapsing onto the bar-room floor.

The vacuum in the room seemed to be pulling at my chest and was becoming unbearable and then, at once, released me. The overhead lights flickered. Suddenly the tavern was alive again.

The lights flickered once more and Burt’s engine roared to life. “Panthers don’t come to the city!” he preached, “They keep to themselves up there in the hills; nothing down here for them, if they know what’s good for them.”

Marv and Al rose from their stools. Marv took his dollar bill off the bar leaving the change for Harry.  “See ya, old man.

Time to go… morning comes early!”  Al attempted a small wave and turned to follow his roommate out the door.

“SOMEONE HELP ME!” I shouted. Charley’s eyes rolled under the loose skin of his eyes before they opened and focused on something behind me.

Harry was yelling into the phone on the back counter near the cash register. “Might be a heart-attack, hurry!” then slammed the phone back onto its cradle.

Charley coughed a couple of times and then his eyes fixed in their sockets. He was gone.

I stood up holding on to the back of my chair for support. It felt like my own legs had gone to rubber. “He’s gone, Harry.” I turned to see Harry’s face a little paler; his eyes had that hint of craziness behind them.

Harry turned his head toward the spot where Tess had been sitting. She was nowhere in sight. Her drink sat on the bar untouched and there wasn’t even the slightest hint that she’d ever been there.

“Where is she?” I asked. “Where did she go?” “Who?” Harry answered looking blank.

“Tess.  Did she leave?” I inquired again.

“I don’t know no Tess.” Harry answered plainly. He had the look of shell-shock all over him. “There wasn’t no girl here.”

“Sure there was. She sat right here and this is her drink…” I insisted.

“No!” Harry screamed into my face. “NO GIRL!”

I could hear the sirens approaching in the distance. It wouldn’t be long and the bar would be a bee-hive of questions.

“Harry… I saw her...” I whispered back to him, trying to make sense of all of this. “She was sitting right here… a dark haired woman, ivory skin, beautiful green eyes, long legs…”

Just then I saw it move, in the shadows near the back door; a large black cat running into the alleyway.

Three Months Later

“Hey Harry! Nice evening!” I greeted him as I stumbled through the door. “Marv... Al… How’s everyone doing tonight?”

Al nodded and Marv beamed his yellow smile while asking Harry to set one up for me.

“Thanks Marv.” I stammered. I was already three sheets in the wind by this time every night. This would be my last stop before I’d have to find a place to park myself and sleep it off.

Burt was expounding on the right to bear arms and how we needed to protect ourselves from E.T.’s because the government wasn’t doing nothin’ about ‘em. “As a matter of fact, they are giving them food and shelter in exchange for uranium!” he quipped.

I took my shot of whiskey and beer chaser over to the back table and sat myself down in Charley’s old seat. It was mine now.  I was the storyteller.

I let my chin fall to my chest and let out a big sigh. It was almost time to close and I needed to get out back and dig for a bag of garbage to lay my head on.

I remember mumbling something to myself about black

cats…