How To Eat A Human Being

HOW TO EAT

  A HUMAN BEING

  By Dan Dillard

  To everyone who ever had an impure thought, and smiled.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks to my wife Stephanie for proofreading, Gina Nagler for editing “Refractions” and to Tamara Martin for asking me to write a slasher story about an Amish man. I may burn for it, but it was fun. I hope you and Courtney get to make the film.

  Thanks to Brett Pittman for a gruesome cover.

  Thanks to my ever-growing gaggle of readers who encourage me to continue even when I feel like a fraud.

  From the Author of:

  Demons And Other Inconveniences

  What Tangled Webs

  The Unauthorized Autobiography Of Ethan Jacobs

  Lunacy

  The Toothless Dead

  Giving Up The Ghost

  Light As A Feather

  The Journeyman

  Dig

  Come find me :

  https://www.demonauthor.com

  https://www.facebook.com/thedemonauthor

  https://twitter.com/demonauthor

  https://gplus.to/dandillard

  or email me:

  [email protected] for more info!

  How To Eat A Human Being

  Copyright © 2012 Dan Dillard

  Cover art by Brett Pittman

  ISBN: 9781476202433

  License notes:

  How to Eat a Human Being

  Refractions

  Snakehead

  Organ Donors

  Tenfold

  Strays

  Eye For an Eye

  About the Author

  HOW TO EAT A HUMAN BEING

  Your look of shock, I’m used to that.

  Please close your bulging eyes.

  First day of class has always been a bit of a surprise.

  I’ll ask that you relax

  as it’s more common than you’d think,

  The toughest thing ‘bout eating folks,

  is choosing what to drink.

   

  A squeeze of lime, a dash of salt, to tenderize the meat

  A little less for skinny ones, but chubby can’t be beat.

  A roast upon a charcoal pit to liquefy the fat

  Then pull a chunk and chew it up, with beer is where it’s at.

   

  Or maybe you’re the snooty sort, who snobs about their wine

  And finds that high class debutante‘s the only way to dine.

  In that case wash them thoroughly,

  some white sauce would be fine

  But if they’re dry,

  then you might have to soak them in some brine.

   

  Maybe it’s your breakfast time as coffee starts to brew,

  Kona or some chicory, the blend is up to you

  Salt and smoke the belly and then fry it to a crunch,

  Eggs and toast go well with flesh and make a lovely munch.

   

  Fried or boiled or grilled or raw, always a scrumptious treat

  Pork and beef might satisfy, but man’s the thrilling meat.

  I’ll teach you how, sit back and watch—believe what you are seeing,

  There is no shame in learning how to eat a human being.

  REFRACTIONS

  Daniel Hall contemplated a salt shaker while the world turned around him. He took no notice of the dozens of apathetic versions of his face that lived in the facets of the small crystal item. The smartly decorated room where he sat felt false. He’d paid a designer he didn’t like handsomely to bully him and his wife into purchasing things that showed a style that was chic. It wasn’t his style. Neither were the clothes on his back nor the vehicle in their four car garage. Nothing matched anymore and he wondered more often than not where and when it had all gone to shit. He twisted the salt shaker between his fingers, spinning it like a top, and listened to the noise it made as the circles grew smaller and smaller until it once again stood proud.

  The stench of overpriced coffee interrupted his think, and he walked to the kitchen for a cup. 7:32 am. The phone would ring at precisely 8:00 am and ruin his day. They wanted a few hundred pages and he hadn’t written a word. In fact, he hadn’t scribbled anything aside from his own signature and the date in six months. The last three written pieces he’d sold had failed, each substantially worse than the one before it. They were stories he had written years ago and put on the shelf due to countless rejections. Stories that never would’ve been published for Daniel Hall the fledgling writer, but when push came to shove, Daniel Hall—the writer of the novel that the hit movie Reflections was based on—could get anything published—at least for a while. That time had passed. The failed stories had some heart, but none had that edge he’d become famous for. None had the raw power. None had whatever it is that makes a good story great.

  The scent of coffee pulled him away from his worry and he stood up and went to the cabinet to find his cup. They’d been in that house for three years and he still had to search through the cabinets to find his favorite mug. It was one of the few things he’d saved from his other life. A plain blue mug he picked up at a dollar store, it was chipped around the rim and the handle had been glued not once, but three times. It was his luck-charm, good or bad, and after checking the third cabinet, he saw it was on the counter. There was a sea foam green note folded underneath:

  Knew you’d be looking for this.

  Love you.

  Amber.

  She’d signed it with a heart and kissed the paper. She still loved him even if his star had tarnished. She loved him even if he was distracted. She loved him even if he had gained a little weight and his hair was thinning. He jiggled his belly.

  She’s out jogging at seven in the morning and I look like pizza dough.

  He gave a smirk at the note and palmed the mug. In the refrigerator there was a bottle of creamer with some flavor or other which he poured liberally into the empty cup. Then he dumped coffee on top of it and slurped a sample.

  7:36 am. There was still time to glance at the newspaper. Something in the news might spark his imagination and get those fingers typing again.

  When his phone rang earlier than he’d expected, it jarred him so hard he spilled some of the coffee. He stared at it as he shook the hot liquid from his fingertips. Then he sat the one item he identified with on the counter and wiped his hands on his shirt. With a sigh, he picked up his phone and spoke.

  “Hello?”

  “Dan, hi! Markus here. What have you got for me?”

  “Markus, I’m doing great. Oh, Amber? She’s fabulous. Out jogging right now, you should take a look at her.”

  “Yeah, Amber. She’s a go-getter. You’re the one I’m worried about. Listen, can we cut through the bullshit? I have a few clients that still generate actual money. I’d like to get back to them.”

  Markus’s tone made acid bubble in Daniel’s stomach and he wanted to crush the plastic handset in his fist. He rubbed an open palm across his forehead and down his face to a stubbly chin.

  “Look, Markus. I hate having these conversations on the phone. Let’s meet. I’ll come by your office tomorrow.”

  There was a long pause on the line. Daniel pictured Markus looking for an excuse to worm out of it but was surprised when he said, “Yeah sure. Come by for lunch and we’ll talk about your next best seller. Around 11:30.”

  There was a click before he could answer, and the line went dead. He set the phone on the counter and patted his paunch. The blue mug was there, tattered and with plenty of stories to tell. Quickly, Daniel grabbed its repaired handle and dumped the contents. Then he filled it with fresh coffee—black this time—and sat down at the table without the pa
per. He needed an idea to pitch and he needed it quick.

  He heard birds singing and then a slamming door silenced them. A melodious, “Hello!” came from the front hall.

  Amber trotted into the kitchen moments later and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Then she peeled off the jacket to her wind suit and continued to stretch. Sweat glistened on her neck and chest.

  “Hey you,” she said.

  “Hi,” he replied.

  She was still firm and youthful, with energy to burn. It made him jealous as he was a year her junior and he looked ten years older. Amber leaned over to kiss his forehead and he savored the moment. She was going to shower. In less stressful times he would’ve followed her and violated her in any way he could dream up, but that morning he felt inadequate. That morning he felt inferior, like he couldn’t provide for her anymore.

  “See you got my note,” she said and spun his blue mug around by the handle.

  Then she dipped a finger in it and tasted it playfully.

  “I’d be lost without you,” he said.

  “I know. I’m off to shower.”

  The announcement sent waves through his nether regions as it always had, but he held his position and sipped his coffee. She had no idea they were broke. She had no idea that there was no more money coming until lightning struck his cranium and planted the next great idea there. In her mind, they were well off. He was a celebrity of sorts, and she was his best friend no matter what their situation. The only person that really knew him. That fact made him reconsider joining her in the shower. He left the coffee.

  He walked up the stairs to their bedroom and listened for the rush of water followed by the sound of music. She always showered to music, even back when they were broke and teaching high school English or when he was lecturing at the university. He stood in the doorway watching her silhouette through the frosted glass and breathing in the steam. He became so deep in thought he didn’t realize she was watching him back.

  “Honey?” she said. It snapped him from his trance and his face reddened.

  “Busted!” she said and smiled.

  Then she opened the door a little wider to show her glistening body.

  “You want to join me?”

  His hand found the top button on his shirt and then his pants and underwear lay in a puddle on the floor and he was in the shower with her. For twenty minutes, Daniel Hall had no problems.

  An hour later they giggled at each other as they strained to get up off the floor.

  “I never heard hips pop like that,” he said.

  “I think that may have been my ankle.”

  “Or my shoulder,” he replied with a laugh.

  She stood and watched him. He sat on the end of the bed and looked back.

  “I love you, Daniel.”

  Her face held a sincerity with which he could not compete. He placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her.

  “I love you, too.” His stress lessened but lurked in the background, watching from the weeds in his brain.

  “You ok?” she asked. She must have noticed. She always noticed.

  “Markus called.”

  “Oh. More threats?” she chuckled.

  “You laugh but I have nothing to give him.”

  “You’ll come up with something brilliant. I know you will,” she said and hugged him.

  Her warm skin felt good against his face and he nuzzled in and kissed her belly. “You are the brains of this operation, Amber. Always have been.”

  Her eyes rolled at hearing that sentence for the thousandth time. “But you’re the writer,” Amber protested.

  “I’m the writer whose one moment of brilliance was your idea. In reality, my big money book belongs to you.”

  “One big money book is all most people get. And no one writes all alone. Writers get ideas from people, they take from people’s lives. You share ideas, don’t you?”

  “Only the bad ones. If I have a good one, I’m keeping it for my own work. You share your ideas with me. Yours are better.”

  “It was just a nightmare, Daniel. We all have them.”

  “Well, we’ll be living a nightmare if I don’t come up with something soon. We’ll be back in that crappy one bedroom apartment.”

  “As long as there’s a shower and a floor to have sex on,” she said and disappeared into the bathroom with a smirk. She looked satisfied. He took some comfort in that.

  Until the night Amber woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and grabbing for him, he’d been virtually unpublished—a story here and an article there. He spent the rest of that night writing. The words poured out and in no time he had a draft done, agent signed and a publisher on the hook for a fairly large advance.

  Then it became a best seller that was equally well-received by fans and critics. A film based on the book spawned a handful of sequels and earned him quite a bit of money thanks in no small part to Markus. He and Amber banked a lot of money from the films which stated, “Based on characters and events created by Daniel Hall” in the opening credits.

  While his name was still in every household, he finally sold the first novel that he’d dreamed up all on his own. The reception was a bit more cautious and the critics loved it, but it didn’t sell well. Daniel toured as a guest speaker and even showed up at a few larger conventions for the horror fans just to sign some autographs.

  His third book whimpered in sales and acclaim and quickly faded away. His fans on social media dwindled and some were quite angry. His interviews had been national television and radio, big magazines. Then suddenly, they were regional, and finally local things of pity. In ten years, Daniel Hall rode that slide from the peak all the way to the bottom, and poor Amber was still in love with him. She had no idea it had all come to an end. Maybe he could go back to teaching.

  The has-been circuit. Conventions and college lectures. Ugh.

  Those were his thoughts as he sat. Not the musing thoughts of a daydreaming author, but recollections of a used-to-be.

  Like every afternoon, he sat in front of his laptop and watched the cursor blink. As his eyes shifted focus, he saw his reflection in the screen and it appeared to be smiling at him. When he blinked, it revealed the truth. His eyes were glossed over and his head was empty.

  “I should write a story about fucking writer’s block,” he said and closed the lid.

  -~‑--~@

  The next morning, Amber left to meet some friends for breakfast followed by routine window shopping. It was her weekly tradition. Her friends were the only thing she had kept from their former life. A thing for which Daniel was always glad. So much of the culture of writing was false or bloated. He knew when he got into the business that fiction was just lying for money, but had no idea how many people took it into their personalities and really owned it. He felt alien around that crowd and longed for a Sunday full of beer and football with his boys from the high school English department.

  After his own breakfast and a shower, he jumped in the car to head into the city. The drive would take an hour, ninety minutes in heavy traffic.

  “You ready for this old boy?” he asked the rearview.

  The eyes that looked back appeared more determined than he felt. He felt like an old racehorse which had lost its stride and was taking the long drive to the glue factory. Then he wondered if horses ever actually went to glue factories.

  Daniel revved up the black, oversexed SUV and waited for his dog-walking neighbor to pass before he exited the driveway of his not sprawling, but definitely better than average, home.

  The drive was numbing. Clear skies and bright sun in his eyes made him sleepy but didn’t change the intimidating quality of the high-rise building where he was meeting Markus for lunch. Daniel exited the parking garage and crossed the street, a trip he’d made dozens of times. Exhaust fumes almost camouflaged the smell of ethnic food permeating the block. Cafes on the ground floor of each building buzzed with younger people, all full of possibilities and potentia
l.

  Poor bastards.

  He pushed through the revolving glass doors and into a beautifully decorated lobby. Marble floors and stainless steel walls surrounded a fountain of larger than life eagles, talons outstretched, ready to grasp their prey. Shelton-Ray publishing was on the seventeenth floor.

  Daniel waved at the elderly guard who perched at the desk and pressed the elevator button. The car was waiting there and opened instantly with a beep. A younger man escaped its sideways jaws.

  There were twenty-four floors full of various types of businesses in that building, but Daniel knew in his guts the man was an author who just penned a six figure deal writing about moody vampires or attorneys who will stop at nothing to win a convoluted case. He ran through several recently read plots in his head as the cage rose on its cable to the floor where he would beg for his very livelihood.

  Maybe I should write a novel about a vampire attorney—or is that redundant?

  When the doors opened, he was greeted with the familiar insignia of the company: a simple capital ‘S’ and capital ‘R’ formed out of brushed stainless. To the right was the reception area. He hoped Regina was sitting there. She was always bubbly and sincere. The other girl was rude and shrew like. Even the shape of her face reminded him of a rodent and he didn’t think she’d ever read a book.

  “Hey there, Mr. Hall! How’s my favorite author?” Regina shouted from the desk. Her bright smile beamed and lit up her eyes.

  He smiled, “Hi lady! So glad it’s you.”

  She looked both ways and then covered the microphone on her headset, “I know, honey. She can be a real bitch.”

  He held his hand out to shake hers. She bounced around the desk and gave him a hug instead.

  “You go on back, hon. Markus is waiting for you, I’ll let him know you’re here. I picked up some snacks for you two.”

  “Thanks, Reg. See you soon!”

  He pushed through the swinging door to the offices beyond. The cubicles held proofreaders, editors and layout artists. People typed, scribbled and read while others scurried from place to place. Some recognized him and spoke or waved, others paid him no mind. He nodded to each person he met as he aimed for the next to last office door. It was open and Markus stared through the portal as he hung up his phone. He stood up to shake Daniel’s hand. Behind him hung a framed, poster-sized cover of Reflections.

  “Good to see you, sir,” Markus said.

  “And you. Looks great in here, man. Business booming?” Daniel asked.

  Markus wore a tailored shirt, boldly patterned tie and pinstriped suit pants. His hair was greased back like a Wall Street trader and his face was freshly browned from the tanning bed.

  “Hardly. We’re ok though. New talent pops up daily.”

  “I think I saw some of that getting off the elevator.”

  Markus smiled a businessman’s smile. It was courteous, but empty. A true smile was in the eyes.

  “Right. Sandwich? Reg picked up some great stuff here.”

  Daniel glanced at the tray, “No. No I want to get this out of the way.”

  “All business today? Great. What’s on your mind?” Markus grabbed something from the tray and shoved it into his mouth.

  “I’ve got nothing.”

  Markus stopped chewing and spoke through a mouthful of food.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve got nothing for you.”

  “The last few books have been a little stiff, but that’s why we have editors, man. Teams of people work to make your books better. At least readable.”

  “You don’t understand,” Daniel said and shifted forward in the high-backed leather chair. “I don’t have anything. Not a paragraph. Not a sentence. Not a word. I’m tapped.”

  Markus put his sandwich down and interlaced his fingers on the desktop. He leered at his opponent for a moment and his friendly business demeanor turned to a non-friendly business demeanor. Daniel caught a whiff of spicy mustard through the stench of disappointment.

  “We have a contract. Something on my desk in six months, right? You got a pretty healthy advance even after the last pile of shit-paper you delivered to me, all so you could sit on your ass all day in that mansion of yours and write.”

  “It’s hardly a man…”

  Markus interrupted, “The last couple of courtesy calls were just that, Daniel. Six months is long enough to crank out two shitty sequels or new half-assed novels. Your fans will buy it, contract complete and then you get to go out to pasture. Hopefully you’ve saved some of that money and you and Amber can live out the golden years in style.”

  “There’s nothing there, Markus. I’m telling you, I haven’t written a worthwhile word in months, maybe a year. The last book was an old manuscript.”

  Markus brightened. “Give me another one of those.”

  “I’m out. I’ve used everything I’ve got.”

  Markus chuckled, wiping crumbs from his chin and chewing a huge bite.

  “Are we just talkin’ about writer’s block here, or are you trying to quit on me?”

  Daniel shook his head. “No, I don’t want to quit. I seriously sit at my computer every day waiting for something to inspire me and I get nothing. Maybe a sentence or a paragraph, but it’s always garbage and so I just delete it.”

  “You need to get laid. Not Amber laid, although I bet that’s phenomenal.”

  Daniel started to speak, to protest, to tell him not to speak about Amber like that, but Markus interrupted.

  “Strange laid. Tear the pussy up and never call her again laid. Take one of your groupies out for a drug-filled night and break her in half laid. It’ll clear your head. Light that fire in your fingers. You’re a brilliant writer, Daniel. I mean you can put words together. You just need a muse.”

  “You’re not listening…”

  Markus stood up from behind the desk. He was whispering, but there was plenty of force in his words.

  “Fuck you, I’m not listening. I’m telling you how to fix this. You’re not listening. It’s a contract. You owe me one more best-seller—scratch that. Shit me one crappy story and I will sell it in spite of you. After that you can go be weak somewhere else. You don’t want to default on this or you’ll owe this company your house and your car. By the time I’m done with you, Amber will be waving at you from my bed.”

  He felt the urge to speak out again, but realized Markus was right. Not about Amber, but about everything else. Instead, he sighed. “You always had a way with words.”

  “Maybe I should write a fucking book, huh?” Markus said. He shoved the remainder of the sandwich into his mouth.

  It was no show. Defaulting on the contract would be lose the house bad. The fact that he had no other income made it worse. Still, they’d been friends of the business sort for a long time and Daniel Hall’s books and films had make Markus a lot of money and a lot of clients. He wouldn’t drop the hammer so quickly.

  Markus took another bite of sandwich and continued to speak with his mouth full. “So you’re motivated now?”

  “Hey, whatever it takes to keep your dick out of my wife.”

  “That’s really too bad. She is spicy hot. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” Markus said, pointing at the tray of sandwiches.

  “No. I’m not hungry. Thanks for the talk.”

  “Yeah, anytime. You had six months, Daniel. I’ll give you six more weeks to bring me fifty pages. Get me a pitch and fifty pages. You get that far, and the rest will be a breeze.”

  The phone rang. It was Regina, Daniel was sure of it. He knew Markus had her call him fifteen minutes into any meeting just in case things weren’t going well. It was something they used to joke about during happier times. Daniel never thought he would be the victim of the easy-out phone call. But there was Markus, turning in his chair and talking in low tones to the caller.

  Daniel stood and walked out without a word. He glowered at the ambitious worker ants that bustled about the office. />
  Sheep.

  His face was red and as much as he wanted to be proud as he made his escape from Shelton-Ray, he couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them until one tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see a glowing, but nervous face. The young lady had mouse-brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. She was young, perhaps twenty one, but her smile was as beautiful as any he had ever seen and it definitely went up to her eyes. She wore a thin, short-sleeved sweater and pencil skirt and she was lovely from head to toe. A younger version of Amber, he thought. He felt warmth in his face and also in his crotch. A surprise, given how his day was going.

  “Mr. Hall?”

  Mister? Damn. She thinks I’m old. I am old. Much to old to be thinking what I’m thinking about her.

  “Hi,” he replied.

  “I’m Anna. I saw you come in. I—and—I wondered if you would sign my copy of Reflections?”

  She was so genuine and seemed to be embarrassed by the flushing in her cheeks. It made his day. He never understood why anyone would be nervous to meet him, a guy who didn’t have sex until he was almost twenty years old, but there she was as so many had been before, nervous and fumbling words in front of him.

  “Of course I will, but surely there are some more current stars around this office,” he teased.

  “It’s not the same. I read a lot of our authors, most of it forgettable, but I love this book,” she said. She pulled a tattered paperback from behind her and presented it to him. Her upper teeth caressed her full lower lip ever so gently in anticipation. He found the simple gesture mind-blowing in its sensuality. Her eyes never left his as he flipped to an open page and scrawled his name there.

  “It was great to meet you, Anna. I’ll see you next time.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Dan, Danny… Daniel. Anything but sir… or Mister. Please.”

  She blushed again, “Danny? I like that.”

  She went back to her desk with her new treasure and disappeared around a cubicle wall. Daniel turned, and he didn’t know when, but Markus had slinked in by his side.

  “Danny, let me walk you out,” he said emphasizing the Danny.

  Daniel nodded. Once they were clear of prying ears, Markus said, “There’s your muse, buddy. Take that girl out to lunch and let her work you over. Do sick shit to her. Use puppets. Use food. Use your fucking imagination.”

  The author smiled, “She is attractive.”

  “Attractive? You are out of words. I could list a dozen words to describe her. Two dozen things I’d like to do to that body, but I’m the boss, and there are these pesky harassment laws. I’ve actually toyed with the idea of firing her, just so I could fuck her. Whatever her name is.” Markus was looking back through the glass doors at Anna who was leaning on her co-worker’s desk asking a question.

  Anna, you sick asshole. Her name is Anna.

  “Tell the wife I said hello,” he said.

  “Will do. Six weeks, Daniel… six weeks.”

  The words echoed in his head as he entered the elevator. Six weeks to pound out something mediocre. It was insulting. Somewhere between the vision of that beautiful girl asking for his autograph and the sexual and moral perversion of his publisher, Daniel thought the truth must lie. He pressed the ground floor button and zoned out watching the lights change. No one was in the lobby when the doors opened except the elderly guard who didn’t look, but raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  Daniel found his car and drove. His mind focused on the deadline like never before. He mulled over the circumstances of the success of his first book and again loved and despised the fact that the idea had come from Amber. One of her nightmares.

  It was a simple idea, really, about a hand reaching at her from within a mirror. He calmed her in his loving way and when she’d fallen back to sleep, he began to write. A year later he published Reflections, a horror story that sold three million copies and spawned one poorly executed film.

  All he needed was a new nightmare to thrive on.

  -~‑--~@

  Daniel rolled his window down to reach into the mailbox. Inside were a handful of bills and solicitations along with a magazine Amber subscribed to. He popped open one credit card statement and glanced at the balance. Five figures leered angrily back at him. Just below them he saw a late fee and a four figure payment due. He’d kept the bills juggled up until the past few months, but in order to make the mortgage and utilities, he’d needed to neglect a few. Any day, Amber would answer the phone and someone from Visa or Master Card would let the cat out of the bag. That cat would be pissed off and ready to pounce. For the moment, he stuffed the bills into his briefcase and left it in the truck as he walked from the garage to the house. He felt claustrophobic as the garage door closed and couldn’t get into the kitchen fast enough.

  “Hi baby. How was your meeting?” Amber said when she saw him. She smiled as he tossed the mail with her magazine on the table.

  “Not so great,” Daniel said and sat down at his desk.

  He flicked the power switch energizing the monitor and was greeted by the same blank document he’d left there the day before. The cursor begged for input.

  Amber kissed his cheek, “No?”

  “No. Not good at all. Some twenty-something called me ‘Mister’. I feel fucking old.”

  “Aww, poor baby. What did this twenty-something want?”

  Amber shoved him back from his desk on the chairs wheels and sat on his lap.

  “She wanted an autograph.”

  “Well that’s good!”

  “Markus told me to take her out and screw her. He said it might be a new muse for me.”

  He blushed a little at his candid statement. Amber didn’t miss a beat.

  “I think I can keep you satisfied in that department.”

  “Yes. Yes you can,” he said. “Are you…drinking?”

  “Yep.”

  Amber picked up a glass and downed the rest of her whiskey. She handed him a matching glass and then kissed him.

  “I thought you might need to relax,” she said.

  He took a drink while her hands found his belt, then his zipper. He was ready before she touched him and when he touched her, she moaned a low, quiet thank you. He rubbed her and she stared him down like a big cat. The made it as far as the kitchen counter where he finished the job. Every bit of his stress left in that orgasm.

  She smiled like the devil, “We can do that again after dinner, I’m starving.”

  “Gladly,” Daniel replied.

  He glanced at the blank screen again and typed two words on the screen before he saved the file:

  Working Title.

  They made a pair of drinks and cooked dinner together. Then another pair of drinks as they ate. After dinner there was a long pause where they just sat staring at one another, then he told her the details of the meeting with Markus.

  “Why don’t you just do what he says? Write something awful and let him sort it out with the editing team. Surely we could come up with some crappy overused idea that he could sell,” she said.

  “Sell out? Why not? We could retire. Or I could self-publish memoirs from our travels. Maybe I could write my autobiography and tell the world I’m a fraud.”

  “Don’t be an ass. You aren’t a fraud. Lightning struck you, honey, be proud and thankful. It rarely strikes anyone at all, much less more than once.”

  “I’m sorry. Just frustrated is all,” he said and stood to put his hands on her shoulders.

  She nuzzled her chin into his forearm and closed her eyes with a smile. Daniel moved to the counter and poured another drink. Amber waved off his offer of a refill and started cleaning up the dishes.

  “So what are your new terms?” she asked.

  He gave her a blank look.

  “You said your six months were up, but Markus was giving you a little more time.”

  “He wants twenty fifty pages in six weeks.”

  She furrowed her brow, “Well that’s
doable. You just need an idea, maybe free writing?”

  “Maybe. I stared at the computer for two hours today and wrote Working Title.”

  “The problem is you aren’t writing anything. Write something. Write down what you did today. Write down questions you have. Remember what you used to tell me? Look at a normal situation and write down a bunch of what-ifs. Writer’s block can be beaten, Daniel. You’ve had it before.”

  “Before Reflections maybe. But truthfully, I’m not sure if I’ve written anything since that damned book,” he said never taking his eyes off the computer screen.

  He took the last gulp from his highball glass and refilled it.

  She fixed him with a stern look, “You can’t write if you’re drunk.”

  “Couldn’t hurt to try,” he said. “I’ll try anything at this point.”

  Eventually he would have to tell her about their financial situation and that in less than six months they would be completely broke. No more credit, no more asking for more time, no more using his good name for freebies. Maybe he could get drunk and let it slip.

  “Just don’t look to your teenage groupies, please.”

  Daniel smiled. “I haven’t any groupies and I haven’t got the energy.”

  “What about little miss autograph?” Amber patted him on the head and then rubbed her hand down his stubbly cheek.

  “You know better,” he said and cupped his hand over hers.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” she said and kissed his tiny bald spot.

  He picked up his glass and took a big drink. Amber disappeared through the doorway and headed upstairs to bed. Daniel watched her go. His eyes rolled downward ending up on his keyboard, his demon. The urge to cry gripped him and he choked it off with another drink of whiskey.

  Was that four or five glasses? Who cares?

  Then he filled the tumbler once more, a little deeper this time.

  “This time,” he said to his computer, “I’m going to write five hundred words.”

  He took a gulp from the glass and placed his fingers on home row. He leered at the monitor with hatred in his eyes.

  What if… he typed.

  Then he stared at the screen until his eyes glazed over.

  “What if what?” he said.

  Another drink added to his stupor.

  “What if I were a better writer?” he slurred and giggled a bit.

  This brought more laughs. After a fit of uncontrolled giggles, he caught his breath and rubbed a hand across his face, wiping tears from his eyes. He huffed and his eyes moved in and out of focus. He put his left hand back on home row and with his right, he grabbed the glass again for another big gulp. The liquid burned in his throat. Then the sweet bite of the aftertaste caused him to close his eyes for a moment.

  When he opened them again, the words began to flow. He typed furiously, his fingers dancing across the keys with little or no effort and for twenty minutes, he wrote.

  Thirty minutes.

  Forty five…

  There had to be five thousand words there and he hadn’t deleted a single thought. If he hadn’t had the uncontrollable urge to vomit, he would’ve written for another hour. Daniel stumbled, leaping from his seat and ran to the sink. When he finally got untangled from his chair, the screen caught his eye. Five thousand brilliant words did not stare back at him. What he saw was this:

  “What if I were a better writer? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”

  “Left hand, home row,” he said and let out another laugh.

  Even as his upset stomach subsided, Daniel poured the remaining liquor down the sink. He walked upstairs without closing his laptop or deleting his embarrassing mistake. The clock in his bedroom said 2:47am. He’d been knocked out for hours. He passed his sleeping wife and went to the bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth. Then he slid into bed next to Amber and tried to close his eyes. She frowned and shifted to face him.

  “You scared me,” she mumbled.

  Then she put an arm across his chest.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, baby,” he said.

  The idea hadn’t occurred to him.

  Until then.

  -~‑--~@

  Daniel Hall cracked open one eye and let the light from the window leak in. The smell of coffee made his stomach roll and tumble. He used his hand as a shield while he opened his other eye and looked at the clock. The numbers blurred forming a turquoise blob in front of his face. After a few blinks the numbers came into focus and told him Amber had already left for her morning run. He propped up on his elbows to test his digestive system’s ability to handle movement and then pressed himself to a sitting position. There was a creased sheet of paper on Amber’s pillow. She had drawn a single heart inside bringing a strained smile to his face.

  Staggering to the bathroom, Daniel flipped the switch and immediately turned the water to scalding in the shower. He popped open a bottle of mouthwash and poured a shot into the large white plastic cap before swishing it around his mouth. Then he closely checked the capillaries in his eyes and for one brief moment thought he saw his reflection wink.

  “What the hell was in that whiskey?” he said.

  He looked back at himself in the mirror, seeing only a midlife crisis with a hangover. He stuck out his tongue and then turned sideways to check his waistline.

  “Worse than I thought,” he said.

  He was to give a lecture that afternoon. Practice for his near future, he thought. The beginning of the end.

  Steam rolled from the shower and frosted the top of the mirror. Daniel sighed deeply and climbed inside to stand in the hot water. His tense muscles loosened and other than some indigestion, he felt much better. Soap wasn’t important, nor was shampoo. He simply wanted the hot water to wash off all the nasty feelings he’d been having. If only it would clean his slate and give him a fresh idea on how to get on with his life. A noise interrupted his daydream and brought him back to reality. It sounded like the plastic cap from his mouthwash tumbling in the porcelain sink.

  “Hello?” he said.

  Daniel poked his head out of the shower stall half expecting Amber to be back early and grabbed his robe from its hook. He slipped it on and peered into the sink to find just what he imagined. Amber wasn’t there, but the cap lay there next to the drain. A quick spin of the knob in the shower turned off the running water. He rubbed his hand on his cheek in wonder, felt his unkempt whiskers and grabbed a disposable razor. Menthol filled his nostrils as he swiped the shaving cream onto his face. He was halfway through removing his beard when he realized his reflection was not mirroring his image. It was watching him, hands at its side, smirking.

  “Hey Danny,” it said.

  He dropped his razor. A tiny trickle of blood ran down his face. He couldn’t find speech.

  “Wha-What?” he managed.

  “I said ‘hey.’ You look confused, buddy. We used to talk all the time, what happened?” the image said.

  Daniel looked behind him as if he thought someone was playing a trick. Maybe some projector was throwing his image on the mirror.

  “You ain’t drunk, Danny. And you ain’t sleepin’,” it said.

  Daniel turned quickly to face himself again, and again his reflection didn’t match.

  “How? I mean what?”

  The Daniel in the mirror laughed a hearty laugh and then shook his head.

  “Take a breath buddy. We’ve got a lot to discuss. I’ll wait.”

  Then it was gone. Nothing. He shook his head and went on with his routine.

  “Stress,” he assured himself. “That, or I'm not awake yet.”

  He watched a drop of blood grow on his cheek where the tiny slice had opened his skin. It ran down to his chin in a watery rivulet, staining the foam before it dripped into the sink. The menthol stung, then cooled. He finished the ritual and th
en washed his face clean before applying a tiny bit of medicine to his wound. Closer inspection showed an almost imperceptible blemish. No one would notice from the audience to the stage, as if anyone would be there.

  At the peak of his career, he would've commanded any price and packed the house. Lately, the seminars were few and far between, usually when another guest speaker cancelled. This one was happening as a favor to a friend from the University. They'd taught freshmen how to develop characters and write dialogue together for years before he sold his first book.

  -~‑--~@

  Walking down the familiar sidewalk to the school felt awkward to him, like he was a fraud and everyone knew it. His failures had been on the news, the internet, the social networks. It was just embarrassing. When he saw Professor Randall Sims walking towards him, he wanted to turn and run.

  “Daniel!”

  The smile looked genuine, and he actually sounded pleased as well.

  “Hi Randy. Long time. I was glad you called. I appreciate the invite. Who cancelled?”

  “Some blowhard. The guy writes hard-to-read, hard-to-interpret, keep-your-thesaurus-handy stuff. Said he had the flu or something.”

  Daniel smirked, holding the expression until they both fell into the laughter of old friends. He patted Randy on the shoulder and they walked arm in arm for a few steps as they approached the auditorium.

  “Dan, why don't you come back? Work again. You have a lot of insight you could give these young men and women.”

  “What? How to fail?”

  “And how to succeed. It hasn't been all bad, right?”

  He’s right. It wasn’t all bad. Not until now.

  “No.”

  He choked back the desire to tell it like it was. Demeaning, difficult, disastrous and other words that start with the letter 'D'. Instead he smiled, thinking it would be nice to have the paycheck again. Once he found a way out of his contractual obligations, once he got that last damned book off of his back, he would suck it up and be one of “those who can't” and teach.

  “I think I would like that. A room full of eighteen year old students is nothing compared to an agent. They are demons, I tell you.”

  Randy laughed.

  “I bet.”

  “So, packed house today?”

  “Sorry, old friend. We have a few, but these afternoon seminars just don't pull them in like the evenings.”

  “It's ok. You can say it. I don't pull them in like I used to. You know I once got paid five thousand for a single lecture.”

  “No shit?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “Wow,” Randy said. “Times have changed.”

  They stopped in front of a brick building. The bulletin board had a small poster stapled to it stating “Daniel Hall, author of Reflections, to speak.” Then it listed the date and time.

  “Well, here we are. Break a leg and thanks again,” Randy said. He held the door for his friend and they entered the side of the building. They walked to the back of the auditorium and there, Randy left Daniel alone to approach the stage. He took a deep breath as he quickly scanned the seats. Twelve, maybe fifteen people went on about their lives with cell phones, laptops and tablet computers.

  He walked up the steps and centered himself on the podium. The house lights dimmed, not to black, just enough that the overhead projector could be seen on the screen behind him. A picture of his most profitable book shone for the onlookers who greeted him with yawns.

  “Good afternoon, thanks for coming. I'm Daniel Hall.”

  More yawns. In the very back of the hall, he saw a young couple pawing at each other, kissing as if they were in the backseat of a car. It amused him so, he let out a nervous chuckle.

  “As you can see, I wrote a book...”

  Then he spun into a lecture he had given dozens of times when he was a professor, and also during his paid lectures when the houses were full. He spoke about fiction and how it worked best when it was grounded in some reality. The more realistic the setting, the easier it was for the reader to believe the lie. In fantasy, the setting was the lie, so you had to believe in the characters and their struggle. He spoke about it in the context of his novel and how his protagonists had realistic problems that confronted them in unrealistic ways. Then he thanked his wife for the idea.

  He waited the appropriate beats after his jokes that used to bring laughter. None was to be had. The couple in the back had stepped up their game. The young man's hand was inside the girls shirt. She was rubbing his inner thigh. It was infinitely more interesting to him than his speech.

  At some point, Randy had left the auditorium. He'd heard the lecture before. Daniel stood silent for a moment, glancing from person to person in the crowd. Only two looked back. One was female and familiar. The other was a young man, frowning.

  “Thanks again for coming. If there are any questions, I'll be glad to stick around.”

  There was some fumbling in the balcony as the volunteer student struggled to turn off the projector and get to the lights. When they came up, the seats were empty except for the young couple in the back, the frowning young man and the familiar girl. She smiled and he remembered her as Anna, the intern from his publisher's office. The amorous pair looked around to see the others watching them and stood. The boy's obvious arousal caused the other two to giggle, then they ran from the theater, likely to find someplace to finish.

  Anna spoke first.

  “Mr. Hall. I loved Reflections. Will there ever be a true sequel?”

  He didn't want to give away that he knew her. It would look like a plant. Even in front of the only other person in attendance.

  “If the right story hits me.”

  She smiled, but the frowning man scoffed. The blatant rudeness angered Daniel. Something he always hated. Critics didn't bother him, it was their job to be critical, but he hated rudeness.

  “Did you have a question?”

  “I do.” The young man shifted forward in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees and locking his hands together. The seat squeaked. “You've said in previous interviews, and again today, that you owe the success of that one book to your wife.”

  He gestured to the blank screen behind Daniel, to where the image of his book was.

  “That's true,” Daniel said.

  “I was wondering when she was going to write something else? Obviously you can't do it on your own.”

  Anna growled.

  “You're an ass,” she said.

  Daniel held up his hand, letting her know it was okay.

  “I'll ask her what she has in store for us. Are you a writer?”

  Aren't we all.

  “I am,” replied the young man.

  “And when can we expect your first published work?”

  It was his token response to hecklers. It usually softened their bite.

  “My first novel is due from Shelton-Ray this winter. It's in the final stages of editing right now.”

  He deflated but took it in stride. “Congratulations. Then you know how difficult getting a book published can be. I expect I'll be seeing you up here one day.”

  The young man looked around at the empty room. “Don't bet on it.”

  He stood to leave. Anna glared at him as he walked out, then looked back at Daniel. “He's got a lot to learn. Always so rude.”

  Daniel descended the steps to the floor and approached her. “You know him?”

  “I do work there,” she said.

  His heart sunk.

  “Was this a waste of my time?” he asked as he walked toward the door.

  She looked at him like a mother looks at a scraped knee. “You'll get it back. You just need to find your muse.”

  She sounded like Markus. For a moment he wondered if the girl wasn't a plant. Sent by, even paid for, by Markus. Maybe she was a prostitute hired to clean out his cobwebs.

  That’s wishful thinking.

  “Do you have any insight on how to do that, young lady?”

  It soun
ded perverse coming from him at that moment, but she walked with him outside and to her car so he must not have come across as lecherous. She was parked only a few spaces over from him and when they stopped walking, Anna took a deep breath and looked around.

  The campus was beautiful, covered in brick buildings, tree-lined concrete paths and fountains. She matched it all. She was so exquisite, he thought, had he been a young man, she would have sparked his creative interest. He would’ve have written volumes of love stories and poetry about her if for no other reason than to win her affections.

  “Just look around, Danny. It’s still all right if I call you Danny, right?”

  “Of course.”

  She held her hands out, like a spokesmodel trying to sell the landscape. “The world is an infinitely beautiful and interesting place, isn't it?”

  Then she waved to him and got in her car. He watched the tiny foreign vehicle speed off. Then as he looked around, he did feel inspired. He watched the leaves flutter in the breeze. He imagined people walking from building to building and what they might be doing. How they would interact. He watched a group of students walk in the distance, leaving one academic building and going to another. His mind raced with things that might be happening on that little campus, things which were worthy of writing about.

  As he reached for the driver’s door handle, Daniel thought about the couple from the back of the auditorium and how he hoped for her sake, the young girl would achieve orgasm before the young man, but he doubted it. He thought about Anna and wondered what it took to get her off. If he could use the same tricks he had learned with Amber. Then he thought about Amber. Smart, funny, lovely Amber and how she deserved to know what was going on with their finances. That she deserved better than being married to a middle aged man who was thinking about having sex with a girl who could be his daughter.

  Then he slowly turned and saw his aging face in the reflection of the driver's window.

  “She revs your engine, doesn't she buddy?” it said.

  Daniel couldn't move. All he could do was watch the face he thought he'd been looking at for decades. It was somehow different than he remembered. Something was decidedly more manly about it. The person he’d grown used to looking at in the window was not following the rules. He turned his head from one side to the other without taking his eyes off his opponent. It stared straight ahead, an ever widening grin on its face.

  “Freaky, isn't it?” it said.

  “What do you want,” Daniel asked.

  “I want you to be happy. If you’re happy, I’m happy,” his reflection replied.

  “But what…what the fuck is happening here? Am I nuts?”

  His reflection smiled, “Absolutely not, bud. You’re seeing clearly for the first time. It’s a talent most folks don’t have.”

  Daniel covered his mouth with his hand and studied what was going on. He waved his hand up and down fully expecting to see the motion mimicked in front of him. It wasn't.

  “Ha!” said his reflected image. “You’ve been fooled all this time, buddy.”

  “Fooled? What does that mean?”

  “The mirror,” the image said. “It’s not a replica, never exact. Think about it.”

  Daniel’s mouth twisted up and his brow creased, “What?”

  His reflection grinned again. “The image is a lie, just like in your book. All mirrors are different. There are anomalies. There are imperfections, scratches, little lies in the looking glass, buddy. It’s just an approximation. Even this window has a nice, sexy curve to it or hadn't you noticed?”

  Daniel put his hands on the car door's frame and looked closely at what he thought was himself. His approximation didn’t move, it merely watched.

  “Then what are you?” he asked.

  “I’m you, buddy,” it replied.

  Its deadpan delivery begged for trust although Daniel was cautious.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I've always been here,” it said.

  “Ok, assuming that's true, why are you just now... talking to me.”

  “Well, for starters, I know why you can’t write. And I know how to get you back on track.”

  Daniel shook his head, “Bullshit.”

  “No. No, it’s true,” the other Daniel said.

  “How?”

  “You know how, buddy. It’s all locked up in that pretty wife of yours. It’s up there in her brain. You just need to dig it out.”

  Daniel’s look of confusion turned to anger. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He could hear the voice protesting behind him, but ignored it and headed back to the auditorium. He needed to wash his face as he was feeling faint. He entered the bathroom, checking his watch. It was after four. Most of the students would be gone until the evening classes. He entered the men's room off of the lobby and turned the water on in the sink.

  “I’m losing my mind,” Daniel said. “Perfect fucking end to a perfect week.”

  Purposely ignoring the mirror over the sink, he noticed a smudge in the chrome of the faucet. A smudge that spoke.

  “I’m still here, buddy. At your service.”

  Daniel jumped back, inadvertently looking into the large mirror over the porcelain sink. The image was smiling at him although he knew he was not smiling.

  “I’m insane,” he said. “I've gone completely insane.”

  “Insane is not doing all you can, Danny. Insane is letting Markus win. You know what you need to do, buddy,” he heard his voice say, although his own lips weren’t moving.

  “What is it that you want me to do?”

  “It’s not what I want, Danny. It’s what you want.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Daniel said.

  The reflection moved from one set of panes to the next, “Don’t you get it? I’m you.”

  He peered at the glass, hoping once again that it was in his mind, that it would at any second revert back to the dumpy, middle-aged has-been he was starting to miss.

  “You’re just an image. A reflection,” he said.

  The reflection smiled again in its condescending way, “No Danny. An approximation.”

  Daniel's eyes glossed over with tears. He wanted to wake, to be at home, struggling to wake into his wife's arms so she could comfort him and tell him everything was all right.

  “That wife of yours is something, isn't she?”

  The words scared him.

  It knows my thoughts. Oh God, it knows my thoughts.

  “Come on Danny, of course I know what you're thinking. I'm you. Back on the clock, buddy. You know Amber's got that next meal ticket in there. All you need to do is dig it out of her head. You’re the brains. She’s just a muse.”

  Daniel stared through the image as it spoke to him.

  “Reflections, buddy,” it said. “That was her idea. She has others.”

  “That’s just a book.”

  “No. It isn’t. It’s a whole reality that you neglected to touch on. Look at a mirror, what’s its number one flaw?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Manmade, buddy. Human hands, human engineering. Even at their very best, human creations are still flawed. Unintended variations in thickness, variations in material. Variations in quality. Could be eighth inch or half inch glass in front of that polished metal ribbon. Light is reflected, light is refracted, but whatever the case may be—it’s only a representation of reality, a skewed version. That’s what your last book lacked. Look at me. I’m not you. Not really. I’m just one version of you. I’m a better version of you.”

  Daniel cringed, “Better?”

  “Yep. I’m the version with balls.”

  He cringed again from walking blindly into a punchline.

  “I want you to succeed. I want you to stand in front of me with some fucking confidence. I want to look back and see someone I’m proud to know.”

  “How do I do that?” Daniel asked.

  “We can start with that arrogant shit wh
o embarrassed you earlier. He'll be good practice.”

  Daniel looked at himself. An evil pair of eyes looked back. The creature in the mirror had an air of confidence he didn’t think he’d ever exhibited. It looked cool and composed. Traits he didn’t have. He’d always shied from confrontation. He despised his dwindling celebrity status and hated being recognized. It seemed his reflection was more than visually opposite.

  “Practice? For what?”

  “If you're going to do this, you have to learn to live a little. Revenge is a great starting point. He made you look foolish in front of that tasty little Anna.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Daniel said.

  His reflected image shifted and moved closer to their magical barrier, “I do. And if I do, then you must on some level. Think about that.”

  Just then, the bathroom door swung open. As if by some karmic twist, the rude young man from the empty seminar walked in.

  “Ah, you still here?” he said.

  Daniel nodded, afraid to speak. His reflection in the mirror managed a grin most evil, as if it were wringing its hands over a pile of gold.

  “Sorry for being so tough on you in there. I actually enjoyed your first book. But I call it like I see it.”

  Daniel's insides boiled and knotted as if he was going to be ill. He felt sweat bead on his forehead. Blood rushed from his head leaving him faint, his extremities tingling. The young man's eyes widened. He reached a hand to Daniel's shoulder, as if actually concerned.

  “You okay old man?”

  “Old?” Daniel choked out.

  His reflection's grin grew wider, its teeth stretching to shark-like points. Then the whole world shifted and suddenly, Daniel felt as if he was watching from the mirror, the shark-faced being taking his place in reality. It gripped the young man's head, exchanging the previous expressions of confidence and then concern with shock.

  “You should learn to watch your fucking mouth.” As he heard the words, the boy’s head was being slammed against the heavy sink, sending pieces of tooth about the floor. The young writer exhaled, spraying blood on the shiny, tiled white wall.

  Daniel saw his hands raised again, bringing the young man’s head up and then slamming it down a second time, fracturing the skull inside, and ending any chances of a second published novel, ending any chances of intelligent speech, ending any chances of taking another breath. It shoved the body aside, letting it slump to the floor.

  “That's how it's done, buddy. It feels good, don't it?” The reflection was in the mirror again. It was breathing heavy and its face was covered in tiny dots of the former author’s blood. “Less competition in the pool, too.”

  Daniel watched the man on the floor shudder his last twitches. He screamed wailing bursts of emotion and pounded on the mirror from what felt like the inside. Each fist felt as if it could break through into the real world, but didn't. His eyes blurred with tears, and he blacked out for a moment. When he regained composure, he was in his bathroom at home, leaning on the sink. His face was pale, drained, eyes bloodshot.

  He stared at himself, wondering if the reflection, approximate or not, was going to continue to defy physics. Minutes passed and when he was satisfied, he pulled the faucet handle and rinsed his face.

  It was just a dream. I passed out and imagined the whole thing. But I’m standing. Who wakes up standing?

  His watch said 5:16 pm. Nothing made sense.

  That's how it's done, he heard again and it gave him the same sick feeling that he'd felt moments ago in that campus restroom.

  “Shut up,” Daniel said in response.

  Amber wandered into the bedroom toweling the sweat from her face and neck. In all the weirdness, Daniel hadn't heard the front door.

  “Who were you talkin’ to, baby?” she asked, still breathing heavy from her morning run.

  The hair stood on his neck and he felt his palms clam up. When he turned, her reaction was pure horror. “Daniel, you look awful! How much did you drink last night?” She reached a hand to his forehead.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” he said.

  She moved her hand from his forehead to his cheeks. Daniel grabbed her hand in his own and smiled. “I’m fine, just stressed over the new book.”

  He took a deep breath and looked back at the French doors. The reflection played along in her presence. He shifted his head one way and then the next trying to catch it not paying attention, but it bobbed and weaved along with his awkward grace. He turned back to his wife and the color washed slowly back into his face.

  “Did you get anything written last night?” she asked.

  “No. Not really.”

  “No ideas, baby?” she patted him on the shoulder and gave him a warm smile. Daniel flipped the power on to the monitor and showed her his accomplishment. She read it and smiled. “I’m sorry, hon.”

  “It’s fine. I’m going to sit back down to it after I eat something. You were right. Writing drunk is not productive,” he said.

  “I’ll rinse off and make you something wonderful for breakfast. Drink your coffee and give me ten minutes,” she said.

  She stretched as she walked off to take a shower and Daniel poured his favorite mug full of coffee again. He made it a point not to look at anything shiny.

  -~‑--~@

  Three hours later he sat in the same position from the night before. The texture of the keys on his laptop teased his fingertips and the raised bumps on the F and J keys reminded him that he was still stuck on home row. The blank white page in front of him stood in stark contrast to the blinking line that told him he still hadn’t typed anything. He was thankful for the antiglare screen, just in case his friend decided to show a familiar face.

  -~‑--~@

  Preoccupation and worry kept him from having a single idea to put on the digital paper. Amber had scurried in and flurried out of the kitchen and was gone off to meet friends. She usually left him alone to write during the week.

  Daniel missed her that day. Something ugly lurked in the back of his mind. He heard it wheezing and smelled its foul, stinking breath. He worried his new found alter ego’s intentions towards her. He worried that those intentions may have belonged to him and deep, buried emotions were somehow crawling out from places he was unaware of. He popped the sleep button and extinguished the LCD panel in front of him.

  “A walk. Fresh air is what I need,” he said.

  Daniel rushed to the front door keeping his eyes aimed at the floor and away from any shiny surfaces. The door opened and closed behind him and he raised his head once he was on the sidewalk. Evergreen trees scented the breeze with fresh pine. The lack of traffic at that time of day accentuated the silence. There were no birds and no barking dogs, only the voice in his head.

  “Danny, you need to get back in the house,” it said.

  He stopped in his tracks and sighed hoping it would go away.

  “I’m not going away. How can I? I’m you.”

  He closed his eyes tightly and ground his teeth together. “Shut up,” he whispered.

  “No need for hostility, buddy. You need me. You need a plan. I can help you with that.”

  “Shut up!” he screamed.

  Formerly silent birds took flight from the nearby trees. Their squawks seemed distant and surreal in the situation, but their movement behind his reflection solidified the existence of the reflection.

  “Like I said, that attitude’s unnecessary. Let’s go home,” the voice said.

  Tears rolled over his lower lids and dripped from his chin. Frustration turned to all out sobs in the driveway. He collapsed to a seated position. Insanity had been a fear of his since he was a small boy. It was always his belief that he would lose his mind, but he never figured the onset would be so quick.

  “I told you, Danny, you aren’t crazy. We’re just starting to see things clearly. Go back inside, now, so we can talk.”

  Daniel pounded his hand on the concrete until blood oozed from dozens of tiny s
crapes in his palm. He wiped it on his jeans and stood up to stagger into the house. The birds returned to their roosts in the adjoining wooded lot.

  Immediately he walked to the master bathroom to the mirror he had shaved in that morning and stared for a full minute before he spoke. “Where are you?”

  There was nothing but a reflection. His head lowered until he was staring at the drain in the sink. Both hands gripped the counter as a vein in his forehead pulsed with anger.

  “Where are you?!” the two shouted at each other on opposite sides of the glass.

  Daniel stared himself down, refusing to blink until he saw that difference, that tiny hint that the lip synch was off. The more things matched, the crazier he felt. The man in the mirror stared back, equally as angry until a smile spread across his face.

  “I knew you believed in me, Danny. I can help you,” it said.

  Daniel let out a breath as if he’d been holding it for hours. His shoulders sank back to their relaxed states and he felt a single bead of sweat drop from his temple onto his earlobe. “How?” he said.

  “Motivation. We need another nightmare, Danny. Give her another nightmare.”

  “How do we do that?” He hadn’t realized he’d said we. He should’ve seen the recognition in his partner’s eye, the little twinkle, but he didn’t.

  “We gotta scare the shit out of her.”

  All the air left the room. It should’ve been appalling to him but Daniel on the outside of the mirror found the idea exciting. “When?” he asked.

  A door slammed downstairs telling him Amber was home.

  “No time like the present, buddy.”

  Daniel shuddered. His mind raced as he looked around trying to find something to focus on. Anything that would clear his mind so he could face his wife. The image in the mirror stared at him—almost salivating with anticipation. Its eyes widened and its mouth opened showing every tooth. It smiled in an unnatural way. The writer turned his back on the monster in the glass and walked from the bathroom to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He heard her footsteps on the staircase and took deep breaths to calm himself.

  A drive! I’ll take her for a drive. We can go somewhere for a day or so and get away from the house.

  There was room enough on one of the credit cards and he had some cash in his wallet. They could go to their cabin and get out of the house. Somewhere they could be alone.

  “Daniel?” It was Amber calling to him from the top of the stairs.

  The sound of her voice made him jerk. “I’m in here, baby,” he said.

  He imagined his reflection in the mirror looking strung out and nuts but didn’t dare look. Instead, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face with it. Feeling weak, he held one hand in front of his eyes and watched it quake. Daniel balled the hand into a fist and tucked it behind his back just as Amber came in the room.

  “You ok? You didn’t look so good this morning,” she said.

  He ignored the question and asked one of his own. “You know what?”

  “What’s that, love?”

  “Let’s get out of here. We can go up to the cabin, lay around and eat junk food for a couple of days.”

  A smile spread across her face, “Like a second honeymoon?”

  Her joke relaxed him a little. He turned to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag and then proceeded to the dresser to find some underwear and socks.

  Amber laughed, “You’re serious?”

  His guts filled with nervous laughter, but he didn’t let it out. “Very. I need to get out of this house and away from the phone and that damned laptop. I can write on paper if something strikes me.”

  He shoved a few more random things into the bag. Then he looked at the bathroom door considering the toiletries and then wondering if maybe he should just buy some on the road.

  “Wouldn’t you rather leave in the morning? We could get an early start? It’s a five hour drive,” Amber said.

  Daniel ignored her. “Honey, you think you could grab our toothbrushes … deodorant … shampoo?”

  She looked toward the bathroom and back at him.

  “Yeah. I guess. Daniel, are you sure you’re ok?”

  “Just a little stressed,” he said. “Nothing a weekend away won’t fix.”

  She contemplated his face for a moment before going into the bathroom. Daniel caught a glimpse of the mirror as she opened the door, but he quickly turned away. Within moments she had gathered toothbrushes and deoderant and was back in their room digging through her clothes. Tank tops and sweat shirts—all things comfortable—were placed in the bag with his things. He hurried her down the steps and into the garage. His mind had settled and for the moment, he had one and only one focus: Leaving.

  Amber followed dutifully. She tickled him from behind, acting playful as she always did when he was spontaneous. It had been a while since they’d taken any time for themselves, much less an unplanned vacation. He hoped a little jaunt might be just what they needed.

  She closed the door, kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “I love you, Daniel.”

  He turned to look at her and choked up at her honest expression. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. “I love you too.”

  Thankful his mind was clear and best of all, silent, he started the car and pressed the garage opener. Then he adjusted the rearview mirrors so he couldn’t see their reflections and backed out of the drive. Amber pulled his hand free from its perch on the gear shift and laced her fingers into his. He smiled but didn’t look at her, wanting to keep that last look of true and unconditional love in his mind as long as possible.

  The sky was overcast and the air cool as he left their gated community and turned onto the highway. The radio was low and the music kept them entertained. Amber seemed content to look out the window and keep silent. Daniel knew his tension was obvious, but was glad there was no need for conversation. He enjoyed the quiet in his head.

  The passing scenery was therapeutic. Suburbs turned to open farmland and then tree lined real-estate that might have been unclaimed had it not been for the wire fence that surrounded it. He drove for two hours before he spoke.

  “This looks like a good spot, ya think?”

  She roused from her travel-trance and took in her surroundings. She lowered the window and took in a deep breath. “Good spot for what?”

  He was exhausted from stress, from worry and from talking to himself in the mirror. “A nap. A beer. Some greasy food?”

  Amber looked around and stretched. She smiled. “Smells like fresh air. Perfect for shackin’ up in a hotel. Looks good to me,” she said.

  “Is that what we’re doing? Shackin’ up?”

  Amber unbuckled her belt and slid over next to him, “I hope so. How far to the cabin from here?”

  “A couple hours. Maybe three. We can get there early tomorrow and get a head start on doing nothing.”

  In the distance Daniel saw what he was looking for, an old roadside inn where he and Amber used to stay whenever they’d drive to her parents’ house. It was clean enough, inexpensive and the food at the attached lounge was decent. Amber smiled when she saw it.

  “I remember this place! What’s it been, five years? I can’t believe we haven’t been up here in five years.”

  He turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot, stopping in front of the lobby. “Not since your father...”

  Amber’s eyes were glossy and she was holding back tears. Daniel put a hand on her shoulder and she kissed it.

  “I’ll grab us a room and be right back,” he said.

  Daniel opened the quaint wooden door and smelled onions. An older woman was plopped down at the counter enjoying a sub sandwich and watching something on a small television that sat across the room in the small waiting area. She looked up mid chew, choked down the mouthful and covered her mouth with one hand as she spoke. “Excuse me.” She wiped the corner of her mouth with a shirt sleeve and pulled a registry book from under
the desk. Her face was like a soft stone, kind enough, but there was no smile there.

  “Can I get you a room?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you can. Do you have anything with a king?” he asked.

  “No, honey. We’re not that fancy ‘round here. I’ve got a queen smoker, or a non-smoker with a double. All clean and cozy.”

  “Oh, the non-smoker, please. How late is the restaurant open?” he asked and glanced around the counter.

  She pulled a paper menu from under the counter and slid it over to him.

  “Kitchen’s open until nine, but the bar stays open until midnight . We’ll deliver your food for a few extra dollars. Room’ll be sixty even, honey. Cash or charge. No checks.”

  “Charge.”

  He slid his card and license across the counter and nodded in thanks as he picked up the menu. She glanced at both and then at him before typing the information into her computer. He thumped a fingertip on the counter and thumbed the menu which held the standard roadside fare, fried chicken and chicken-fried. He was glad there were no mirrors in the room.

  “Sign here, hon. You’ll be in number seventeen down on the right as you leave the sitting room here. Snacks and drinks are between rooms nine and ten, so you should have plenty of peace and quiet. Check out is at noon.”

  He signed the form and thanked her. Then he grabbed the keycards and walked toward the door.

  “I know you,” the older woman said.

  Daniel turned with a rancid feeling in his gut. He expected to see himself standing behind the counter. Get you a room, buddy? Instead, he saw the same little woman tearing another bite out of her sandwich.

  “You’re that writer. I remember seeing you on TV. I don’t do the scary stuff, keeps me ‘wake at night.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he said.

  He wondered if there was going to be an awkward request for an autograph or a picture, but her lack of interest was awkward enough. It was a lack of interest to which he had grown accustomed.

  “Have a good night, Mr. Hall,” she said.

  He smiled and waved as he left, certain she was already engrossed in the show he had interrupted.

  He held the keycards up as he approached the car, and Amber smiled. He loved that she was excited to stay in such a simple place, that she didn’t need or want glitz or glamour. She had always been thankful for what they had, in the thick times and the thin. “Details,” she would say. “Comfort is a simple thing to have. The rest is just details.” He hoped she still felt that way when it all came crashing down. He hoped her outlook—so very different from his—would be the same after he told her it was all gone and that they might both have to work regular jobs again.

  “You hungry?” he asked as he shut the car door.

  “Will you pick something up? I don’t feel much like going to the restaurant tonight,” she said, yawning.

  “I’ll walk down there. Anything in particular you’re hungry for?” he asked and handed her the menu.

  She glanced at it and said, “Surprise me.”

  “All right.” Daniel carried their duffel into the room and tossed it onto the bed. It was just like the old woman said, clean and cozy. It looked like a room at an old country grandmother’s house and smelled faintly of potpourri. Amber pulled the comforter from the bed and laid it across a chair in the corner. Then she flipped the light switch in the bathroom and took inventory. Daniel was glad the bathroom didn’t open into the room. He could avoid the mirror.

  “Looks clean. I’ll get comfortable while you get dinner, but don’t be too long.”

  “Ok. You sure there are no requests?”

  Amber smiled with her smoky blue eyes, “There will be. Hurry back.”

  Daniel left a keycard on the small writing desk by the door and pulled it shut behind him. He walked with his hands in his pockets along the concrete sidewalk past the drink and snack machines, past the lobby and to the lounge entrance which simply said LOUNGE on it. Inside he saw what he expected. One waitress-slash-bartender stood behind the counter. Two patrons—each alone, each smoking—sat in wooden booths with their backs to each other. There was more of grandma’s decorating and it smelled like cigarette smoke and grease. The waitress, fifty something with dyed blond hair pulled into a ponytail, smiled when he walked in.

  “Hungry or just here for a few after work?”

  Daniel cocked his head like a confused dog. The waitress smiled. Her nametag said “Connie” and showed wear as if she’d worked there a while.

  “This is the only bar for miles, shug. We have a lot of strangers come in to unwind. Not too busy this week though.”

  “Oh. I need to order a couple of your specials to go. And I guess I’ll have a beer while I wait.”

  “No problem. It might take fifteen minutes or so, that ok?”

  He glanced at his watch and thought about calling Amber. He reasoned that she could walk down and find him if she got bored. In twenty to thirty minutes they’d be locked in that room together watching old movies on cable and feeding each other french fries.

  “That’s fine. We might have to make it two beers then.”

  Connie beamed her coffee-stained teeth at him and chomped on her gum. It was a sweet smile that made him feel at home. She popped the top off a Budweiser and poured it into a chilled mug.

  “You want this charged to the room, hon?” she asked.

  “Nah. Cash. Tell you what, make that three beers, and I’ll take two back to the room with the food.”

  Connie smiled, punched some numbers into the register and gave him his total. “I’ll leave the other two in the chiller until your food is ready, hon.”

  Daniel gave her the cash and sat down on one of the stools at the counter while she took his order back to the kitchen. Neither of the other patrons looked up from their drinks. An old jukebox in the corner played country-western tunes through the smoke-filled haze. After a moment, Connie appeared back through the swinging door.

  “Relax, hon. Your food will be out in a bit. You just let me know if you need anything.”

  Daniel nodded and took a swig from his beer. The door jingled as another person walked in. Daniel’s back was turned and he didn’t much care to see who it was.

  “Well, hey Anna! How’ve you been?” said Connie.

  “Fine. You?” the girl answered.

  “Good, I’m good. You lookin’ for your dad? He’s gone into town. Be back in an hour maybe. Can I get you something?”

  “An hour?” said the girl.

  Daniel turned to see the girl, curious over the conversation.

  Her eyes lit up when she saw him. “Danny?” Anna said. “Are you following me?”

  She was the young girl from Markus’ office and the lecture. He wondered if she had been following him. Connie looked somewhat astonished at the whole scene.

  “Connie, this is Daniel Hall. We publish his books at Shelton-Ray. Danny, what are you doing here?”

  Connie put a hand over her chest, “Well now, it’s not often we get a celebrity in here. Never, now that I think of it.”

  Daniel held a hand up in protest, “I’m no celebrity. The wife and I are on the way to our cabin. It was too much of a drive for us this late in the evening, so we stopped for the night. We used to come here all the time, but haven’t stopped in years.”

  Why did I really stop here?

  They hadn’t been there in years. It was only a couple more hours to the cabin. He could’ve made it. Was it Anna? Was it that bastard in the mirror that made him stop so he would run into her again? He quickly felt uncomfortable with the situation. His whole reason for being there was shattered. He wanted to leave his food and just go get Amber and drive. But maybe he was just making too much of the coincidences.

  “What brings you out here, young lady?” he asked.

  Anna walked behind the counter and then leaned on it, facing him. Her bright eyes and slight cleavage caught his attention. “My dad owns the place. I practically grew up her
e. It’s not much, but we love it. I come out here occasionally just to say hello. It’s so funny to see you out here!” she said.

  “My wife and I were trying to escape from the world for a couple of days. We used to come here whenever we’d travel through to see her parents.”

  “Cute,” said Anna. “You’re actually gonna eat this slop?”

  “Yep. Love slop,” he answered and gave her a wink.

  Anna gave him a smile that twisted the knife in deep. He was suddenly infatuated with her youthful beauty. A perverted thought crossed his mind that she was a fan and he might use that to his advantage just like Markus had suggested. He pictured the two of them slipping in between the vending machines for a quick fuck. He pictured her blowing him in the dark as he leaned up against his car and then he dismissed the thoughts and realized his beer was empty and he really wanted another one. He picked up the mug and shook it. He was hot and had never felt so thirsty.

  “Be right back,” he said and looked around for the restroom sign. He could hear the girls whispering behind him, secretly hoping they were talking about him and at the same time wishing they weren’t. More likely they were sharing family secrets or talking about men. Other men. Not him men. He entered the restroom and before he knew it, was staring into his own eyes in the mirror.

  “Hey, Danny. That was some good thinkin’ getting her out in the middle of nowhere,” he saw and heard the other him say.

  The man in the mirror looked a little haggard, a little worse for wear. He held a finger to his lips pleading for silence and the figure in the glass laughed.

  “They can’t hear me, buddy. As long as you’re quiet, this will be our own private conversation.”

  “What do you want?” Daniel whispered.

  “That little one out there has it bad for you. You are gonna wear her out. I know I would.”

  Daniel hissed angrily, “Fuck you. I’m here to spend time with my wife.”

  “You’re here to find your muse, Danny. I know you planned on getting Amber alone and away from the world so we could get started.”

  “We? Get started with what?” Daniel asked.

  “Danny, I’m no idiot. Remember I have front row seats to your brain, buddy. Season tickets to your whole fucking life. Get started with the torture, brother. Bring on the nightmares!”

  Daniel shushed himself once again and turned the water on in the sink.

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” he said.

  “Yes it is. I mean, that’s what I’m doing, so it must be what you’re doing. I’m wearing you on my hand like a fucking puppet, buddy.” Mirror man peeked at the bathroom door. “I think we need to bang that tight piece of ass out there. That should set the wheels in motion nicely. So be a good little puppet and go get my dick wet.”

  Daniel shut the water off and turned away from the mirror to empty his bladder. There were no more words between him and his reflection, at least for now. Anna was still behind the counter giggling with Connie when he returned.

  “You have fun in there? Everything in order?” she asked.

  Connie giggled at the statement, “Your food will be right up, hon.”

  “Are you ok, Danny?” Anna asked.

  “Fine,” he said checking his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed since he left Amber in the room. He looked back at Anna with a smile. “I’m fine.”

  You’re not fine. You’re a fucking lunatic.

  He glanced through the pass-thru to the kitchen and caught a glimpse of Connie headed back to the swinging door. Anna’s eyes never left him, and he hated himself for what he was thinking. Hated his instincts for maybe being right about her, right about his alter-ego.

  Women had never come on to him, not even Amber. Their relationship had taken a long time, and its existence still shocked him. He shook off the notion as Connie set two Styrofoam boxes in front of him. Then she reached in to the drop-in fridge and pulled out two more beers.

  “Thanks, hon. Let us know if you need anything else. We close the kitchen at nine, but the bar’s open till two so I’ll be around. I’d be glad to make you a midnight snack if you all get hungry,” she said.

  “Thanks, Connie,” he said and looked at Anna who still stared at him with those eyes. The look was inviting, teasing, dangerous.

  Connie walked out to check on the other two customers. Daniel picked up his purchases and stood to leave.

  “Danny,” Anna whispered.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m staying in room number three this weekend. You should stop by,” she said and blushed.

  He felt himself panic. She reached out her hand and brushed it across his. He jumped.

  “Relax,” she said. “It’s okay. And Danny?”

  He stopped and turned his head, but didn’t look at those eyes.

  “Anytime,” she said.

  He didn’t even nod. He just took his things and left. It was all he knew to do. He’d written scenarios like that one. He’d dreamed them up in some of his earlier, trashier attempts at novels, but he’d never lived through one. He didn’t think things like that actually happened. It was too much for him to handle. Everything seemed overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe until he was outside that lounge door again and in the outside world.

  Amber was waiting for him on the bed in a bathrobe. Her hair was wet, and her face was glowing clean. He set the food down on the towel she’d laid out. It was a picnic like they always had when they traveled and stayed in hotels.

  “It took you long enough,” she said.

  “They were slow. At least the food should be hot, but don’t expect much,” he said.

  “I called. She told me the grill was old and had just been turned on.”

  “She didn’t tell me you called,” he said.

  “I told her not to mention it. I just wanted to know how much time I had to get ready,” Amber said.

  “Get ready? What are you planning?”

  “I just wanted to be clean and refreshed so we could relax. You know I can’t sit around when I feel all grungy.”

  “Yes. A shower would feel good,” he said.

  “She also told me you were in the bathroom.”

  “Is nothing sacred?”

  “What’d you bring me?” she asked.

  “Burger and fries,” he said and popped open one container. “It was the special.”

  “My favorite!” she said.

  He pulled a beer from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She pulled a pint of whiskey from the pocket of her robe and grinned. Then she unscrewed the cap and took a drink.

  “None of that for me tonight. I’ll stick with the beer,” he laughed. “Where’d you get that from anyway?”

  “I brought it from home. There’s another one in the car.”

  He noticed that she’d taken a few belts from the bottle already. Amber playfully popped a fry into her mouth. She grabbed it with her teeth and then pushed it the rest of the way in with one finger. Then he opened his beer and pulled a chair up next to the bed. It was greasy, but it was food.

  She flipped channels until she found a suitable old movie they’d both seen and enjoyed. It was how they relaxed. She tipped the whiskey bottle up again and again until her words were soft and her eyes were sleepy. Her robe gapped so he could see her naked skin beneath and he reached a hand in to feel her. Immediately he was aroused. She smiled and nuzzled her head into his chest.

  They finished their food and watched the end of the movie. When the credits rolled, he groped her gently underneath her robe. Amber snored.

  “Baby?” he said. He rocked her gently, “Amber?” Then he held up the bottle she’d been nipping out of and saw it was more than half empty. She was out for the evening.

  Daniel popped the top loose and took a drink of whiskey. It smelled sweet and burned ever so slightly. He took another. The television was on but he was too restless to settle in and he smelled fried food and onions. He laid Amber back on the bed and covered her with a blanket. Th
e smell of food was making him ill. He took one more drink from the whiskey bottle and stuck it in his back pocket before opening the door quietly to dump their trash.

  There was no can next to the vending machines like he thought so he looked up toward the lobby where he saw a barrel. An ashtray on top smoked from a recently snubbed cigarette. Daniel stuffed the boxes inside and started to walk back to his room. He paused to take a deep breath of the night air and felt the hair on his neck rise, but he wasn’t cold.

  “Knock on the door, Danny,” the voice said. He spun in place looking for its owner before he realized who was doing the speaking.

  “What?”

  “Room number three, buddy. It’s right there. Knock on it. I bet she’s laying naked in there with nothing to do but you.”

  “I can’t. Amber…” he started but was interrupted by a voice similar to his own.

  “Is passed out. She’ll be out for hours. Knock. What’s it gonna hurt?”

  “Shut up,” Daniel said.

  “Do you think it’s a coincidence, her being here? I drove you here, buddy. Hell, I bumped you into her at the office.”

  Daniel frowned. The thought he might not be in complete control was unacceptable, even if he was still somehow subconsciously in control. He looked at the wrought iron number screwed into the door just below the peephole. A black, plastic 3.

  “Come on, buddy. Let me have a little fun.”

  Daniel stood motionless and staring. Before he realized it, his hand was rapping on the door.

  “Thanks, buddy. It’s so much easier to get things done when we both want them,” the voice said.

  “What? You…”

  He turned to leave when the door cracked open. The eyes peering through the partially open door were unmistakably Anna’s. She pulled the door open wide and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Get in here! Someone will see you,” she said and shut the door quickly.

  “I don’t… I mean, I…”

  “It’s ok,” she said.

  The voice had been wrong. She wasn’t naked. She had on a t-shirt that was just long enough to make him wonder. Her hair was down and her eyes blazed in the low light.

  His wife was still beautiful—gorgeous, but there was something about youth. That natural attraction of a man to the younger, more fertile, partners. It had to be in the elasticity of that youthful skin or some imperceptible smell. It was like the need to pinch a baby’s cheek. He wanted to pinch her, to grope her, to chew on her, to taste her. It was like hunger.

  She stood and stared at him, twenty years his junior. He smelled incense and saw something home-rolled burning in an ashtray on the nightstand. Anna’s smile was wicked. Her eyelids lowered to half-mast as she caressed herself, slowly rubbing her hands up her sides and into the air, soaking in the warm buzz.

  “So, what do you wanna do?” she asked.

  He stepped all the way into the room and turned to look around. It was decorated more like an apartment than a hotel. He looked confused.

  “This is like my second home. Didn’t you have a bedroom your parents kept for you years after you moved away? This is mine.”

  He did have that bedroom. In fact, his parents’ guest room was his old bedroom and the furniture that sat inside it was the same furniture he used when he was in high school. Daniel nodded and took another look around.

  Anna grabbed the bottle from his hip pocket, “Is that for me?” she said and unscrewed the cap. She took a drink. The image of her closing her eyes and savoring the sip of brown liquor gave him warm tingly feelings. She walked to the nightstand, picked up her lighter and the joint and turned to face him. She took a drag and then held it out to him.

  “No I couldn’t.”

  She pleaded with her eyes and he caught the outline of one erect nipple as it softly poked at the cloth of her shirt. She looked down and saw what he saw and then looked back at him with a slight pout. “Come on,” she said.

  Daniel shrugged and held out his hand. Instead of handing it over, she took a long drag then startled him as she put her lips over his and gently let the smoke trickle into his mouth. He felt himself stiffen. Then Anna licked his lower lip and he could no longer hold his composure.

  Atta boy, Danny.

  It wasn’t his thought, but he was okay with it.

  Anna put him at arm’s reach. “You want some more?” she said.

  He stood, a middle-aged man, in a hotel room with a beautiful young girl. She was snuggled in chemically induced comfort and appeared completely willing to give him whatever he wanted. If there had been any question about that fact, it disappeared as she pulled her tee shirt off revealing exactly what he had pictured in his mind: smooth, unblemished and round in all the right locations.

  She took a step toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. Then she took another drink from the bottle and tossed it to one side. “Danny, I want this. You want this,” she said.

  Then she turned and backed into him. She wrapped his arm in front of her so it was on her chest, sliding his hand until his finger just grazed one erect nipple. When he moved his other hand to complete the embrace, she pulled it down. He followed her lead gratefully and gently teased the warm, moist folds that waited for him. Her body bucked with pleasure.

  It startled him and he tried to back up and let her go. She grabbed him, not letting him retreat too far, turned back to face him and kissed his mouth. Her fingers located and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and let them slide to the floor. He tried to protest, but her tongue interfered with his own as she kissed him again. Her hands slid down his back, easing his underwear off and revealing his desire for her. Daniel pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor.

  Anna grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bed. She turned away from him, pulling his naked body close against hers. Bending over and leaning on the bed, she looked back over her shoulder at him. She reached behind and before he could protest again, he was inside her. The drugs mixed with the alcohol and the alcohol mixed with the sex and things came in and out of reality. He couldn’t tell where his body stopped and hers began. There was thrusting and moaning and heavy breathing and pleasure.

  He caught his reflection in the mirror momentarily seeing a balding man with sweat glistening on his pot belly looking back at him. Then the image washed away and was replaced by a more rugged, more confident man. It winked at him. He didn’t care.

  Anna teased him and kept him going, not letting him climax until they had tried multiple positions, touching him in ways he never knew he’d wished for. The young girl was more adventurous that Amber ever had been. So experienced. So in tune with him. Then it was over and the room was a wreck. Daniel lay on the floor panting and Anna rested her head on his belly, staring him in the eye while she stroked between his thighs.

  “Mmm. I want more,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I have the strength,” he answered.

  “Oh, it’ll come back to you in a few minutes.”

  “Anna, that was amazing. Breathtaking, but I’ve got to go.”

  “You don’t want to go. Stay here,” she said and kissed his sore member.

  “God knows I don’t want to, but I have to.”

  He sat up and she followed, pulling him to face her. Anna kissed him hard on the mouth.

  “Once more. If this is the last time we can see each other, then I need you inside me one more time tonight. She’ll never fuck you like that.”

  She gripped him and he stiffened.

  Stay, buddy. Look at that body. Tear her up. She’s your muse. This one. Stay.

  “I want to, Anna, but I just can’t,” he said and pushed away.

  She pushed back, straddling him. Leaned against the bed, he couldn’t move any further. His erection pressed underneath her, and she reached down to ease it into position. He wanted to complain as she began riding him up and down ever so slowly, but he couldn’t.

  Her pace quickened and sweat made her body glow. Her e
yes were closed and she pressed her breasts against his face, demanding that he taste her sweat and Daniel obliged. He knew if he could see the mirror there would be a smug reflection staring back, but he didn’t care. He put the thought out of his mind and focused back on the young woman. Faster, pounding, throbbing, faster, almost there, faster.

  He gripped her waist tightly with both hands and drove his thrusts harder. She responded with an enthusiastic orgasm and he finished soon after. Daniel collapsed back against the bed and laughed.

  “You think I can use your shower before I go?” he asked.

  She smiled, “Of course. I can’t send you home to mama smelling like that.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “Don’t talk about her,” he answered sternly.

  She stifled a hurt expression and nodded, “You’re right, that was rude.”

  “Just drop it,” he said. There was a moment of silence between them.

  “Maybe we can do this again sometime?” she asked.

  “Anna, we’re keeping this just between us, right?”

  As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. His chest tightened with the thought that Amber would find out.

  “Of course,” she said, but he didn’t hear her.

  His head was full of questions and hypotheticals. Amber would find out and he’d not only be broke. He’d be alone. She would leave him in a second if she knew. She might learn to live without the money. He knew she would be okay with that, but this? No way, she would pack his shit and send him on his way without a second thought. And did he think he could stay with Anna? That she would have anything to do with him if she knew the truth? He was a toy to her. A celebrity she could tell her friends she had fucked in a drunken night of happenstance. What then?

  “Then you’ve gotta eighty-six her, Danny.” The voice came from nowhere.

  “You had your fun. Chalk it up to life experience, write about it and move on. But don’t leave any loose ends.”

  “Just between us, right?” he asked her.

  “I said ‘yes’. I’m discreet, Danny. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “She’s a liar, Danny. A fucking liar just like the rest,” the voice said.

  “Who, just like who?”

  Anna’s face took on a serious look, “What?”

  Daniel realized what he’d said and decided not to explain. It would be easier that way.

  “She’ll tell her friends, Danny. She’ll probably tell that shit Markus. He’s been eyeing Amber for years. He’ll tell her. Then he’ll hop in the sack with her and do all the perverted shit you just did with Anna. I have to admit I’m a little jealous,” it said.

  “No,” Daniel said.

  “No what?” Anna asked.

  She started backing away. Daniel looked in the mirror. His mentor looked back.

  “You’ve got her freaked out now, Danny. She’s going to tell. Loose ends, buddy. Loose ends.”

  “Stop it!” Daniel shouted.

  Anna stood. She struggled to get clear of a man who felt like he had just cracked in half. He grabbed her by the ankle and she punched him in the face. It was instinctual and she was beginning to cry. Her face was contorted in fear. Daniel lunged, tackling her on the bed. His hand went directly to her mouth to keep her quiet. He heard his voice but it had a different quality. It sounded like the voice that called him buddy. It sounded angry, but with calm control. It was coming from within him though, and not from the outside like before. He was saying these things.

  “Shut your mouth, bitch,” he said. “This won’t have to hurt if you’ll be quiet.”

  She bit down hard on the meat of his hand, and he let out a shriek but stood his ground. He tore his hand free and slapped her with the knuckle side.

  “That was a mistake little girl,” he growled.

  Anna screamed. Daniel backed into the center of the room, letting her go. His mind swam in confusion, grief, anger and fear. He turned to the mirror and watched as the young girl writhed on the bed, something else holding her there, something else smashing its fists wildly into her body and face to snuff out the sound. The scene seemed blurry in the mirror as he watched. Then everything stopped and it came into focus.

  Her body slumped and her legs stopped kicking. He glanced down at his own hands to make sure they were still idle. The world in the mirror swirled and then cleared, swirled and cleared. The thing that sounded like Daniel moved out of view and Anna once again stared at him, the light gone from her beautiful eyes. He laid his head on her chest and listened for her heartbeat. There was none.

  Daniel’s face ached where she had punched him. He ran to the bathroom and turned the light on for a closer look. In the mirror, he saw his reflection. There were scratches on his face and shoulders. His eye was swollen. The man he saw looked desperate, not cool and collected like the voice. He needed help, he needed answers and they weren’t there.

  “Where are you?” he said and began to cry.

  Daniel walked back into the room. Anna lay on the bed in an awkward position and stared at the wall. Blood and urine stained the sheets beneath her. The room smelled like pot and sex, piss and adrenaline. He knew his prints were everywhere along with his blood, saliva, semen and God knows what else. “What did you do?” he questioned, tears flowing fully.

  Back in the bathroom, he turned the sink on and washed his face. Bruising around his eye was already starting to show. The mirror-image was still not what he wanted. It was not the better version of himself that he’d hoped for. It showed him a weak, scared man. A man that had given up. He couldn’t deal with Anna’s room, with her dead body by himself. He would need the other Daniel’s help for that, but couldn’t find him. He couldn’t do anything, he was paralyzed and all he wanted was to get back to Amber.

  Quietly he slipped out of Anna’s room and walked toward his own. The sky was overcast with no moon. One street light illuminated the world in front of him and he shuffled against the brisk air to get to his room. He would have to explain something to Amber about the bruises and scratches on his body. He would have to act normal. He would have to lie. His lies were gaining steam.

  Amber slept a peaceful, alcohol-induced sleep. The sight of her brought more tears to his eyes, and he headed directly for the shower. He scrubbed the lovely scent of dead Anna off of his body and attended to the scratches on his neck and shoulders. Once finished, he looked back to the mirror where there was still no help.

  His eye looked terrible. He’d have to contend with Amber in the morning. First, he had to give in to sleep. No rest, no dreams, just pure exhaustion.

  -~‑--~@

  Sunlight streamed into the motel room and lay across Daniel’s face. His eye lids glowed red, and he struggled through watery blur to gain focus. Amber stared at him from the chair next to the window. “What happened to you?” she asked.

  Daniel raised up on his elbows and shielded his eyes.

  “Answer me, Daniel! What happened to your eye? Your clothes?”

  “Calm down, honey, I’m fine,” he said. It was all he could think to say while his mind scrambled for an excuse.

  “You’re fine? Who did this to you? Is this about the money?”

  It was like a brick wall crashing down on him. “What money?” he asked and sat completely up.

  “Daniel, I’m not stupid. I know we’ve been struggling. Did you do something stupid?”

  He thought back to the prior evening.

  “Stupid wouldn’t cover it,” he said.

  “That’s your out, Danny,” the voice said. Where the fuck had that voice been? “Tell her someone beat you up about the money you owe. Tell her you borrowed cash from some shady characters to pay the bills and this was the meeting place.”

  He shrugged off the notion and let Amber run with it.

  “Why wouldn’t you just talk to me about it? We could figure something out,” she said. “Is that why we’re really up here? You’re hidin
g from someone?”

  Something like that.

  He stood and walked to the bathroom to empty his bladder. Amber didn’t move from her chair but continued to talk herself through the situation.

  “How much do you owe?” she said.

  Daniel looked in the mirror and shook his head. The reflection didn’t reciprocate. It just stared at him.

  “She’s the reason you’re here, Danny. She’s your muse. You’re here to fix this,” the voice said.

  He gripped the countertop with white knuckles.

  “I’m not going to do this right now,” he growled and peeked over his shoulder to see his wife.

  She sat hugging her own knees in the overstuffed chair. She looked out the window with tears in her eyes.

  “Right now is all you have, Danny. How long do you think it’ll be before somebody goes lookin’ for that dead bitch? A girl like that has got friends. She’s got guys chasing her, Danny. Hell, her family is here on the property.”

  Daniel turned his back on the mirror and turned his aggression on his wife.

  “How’d you find out about the money?” he said.

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “How did you find out?” he said again, more staccato the second time. His stomach rolled from the stress of the whole situation. From the loss of his credibility as a writer, his lack of ability as a provider, his questionable sanity and now his loss of control with the poor girl a few doors down.

  “Don’t try to put this on me, Daniel!” Amber shouted.

  Worry aged her face. She shifted in her seat and covered her eyes with her hand. It was a move he’d seen every time she needed to act strong. It was a move that meant she was gathering her thoughts, arming herself before battle. She wiped the tears from her eyes and fixed them back on him. Daniel glared at her, his eye thoroughly bruised from the night before. He turned back away from her out of respect. He felt a barrage of hateful things fighting to come out of his mouth and choked them all back.

  “You’re losing sight of what’s important, Danny.”

  The voice blocked out all else in his world, and he raised his eyes to the mirror to see it. A confident face stared back. There was no other sound.

  “Show her. You’ve got her scared, keep it going. Put her over the edge. You need this.”

  Daniel Hall shook his head as if he were a dog shaking off a pestering fly.

  “Show her,” it whispered.

  “Show her,” he repeated.

  He turned back to his wife and grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt as he sat on the bed.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, appalled at the thought he would leave at a time like that.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Where are you going?” she repeated.

  “I’m going to show you. Don’t move,” he said.

  “Show me what?”

  He stopped her with a look and then pulled on his shoes. “I’ll be right back,” he said again and opened the door to the outside.

  Daniel took no notice of Amber as she burst into tears and the door shut behind him. He took no notice of the passing traffic on the old highway. His focus was on room number three and the cleaning cart that was parked just outside the lobby. That meant there wasn’t much time.

  He slipped into Anna’s room unnoticed. The sickness he’d felt the night before was gone. It was replaced with complacency, as if he were in his own garage looking for a screwdriver instead of something in which to wrap Anna’s body. Rigor mortis caused him problems in making the tidy package he’d hoped for. The doorknob twisted and popped the latch catching his attention. Daniel jumped from his position next to the bed and ran to stand behind the door as it opened. He saw the reflection of the cleaning woman backing into the room and pulling her cart behind her.

  “Housekeeping!” she said.

  Daniel began to speak, to say, “We’re sleeping,” but his reflection in the mirror was holding a finger in front of its mouth.

  “She can’t know you’re in here, buddy. She knows Anna. It would give you away,” it whispered.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Daniel said.

  “Yeah ya do. You know exactly what to do.”

  Once again, the woman’s voice was at the door, “Housekeeping!”

  He snatched her in her tracks, pulling her into the room. Before she could scream, he popped her neck with one swift twist to the left as if he was a trained assassin. Then he pulled the cart into the room, wheeled it out of the way, and closed the door.

  “Ha ha ha, beautiful, buddy. Well done.”

  Daniel smiled at the voice. It felt comforting at that moment, as if he’d summoned it when he needed it. For the next ten minutes he worked unconsciously. Anna’s body was wrapped in a pair of clean sheets from the cart. Her stiffened body was positioned so it was very difficult to carry. He propped the grisly package against the wall next to the door and turned his attention to the maid and the rest of the room. After tossing her body on the bed, he covered her with the comforter and then dug through the cleaning cart.

  There were several containers of different cleaning fluids, each claimed to be perfect for cleaning up a different type of messes, but there was a small container of mineral spirits and another of paint stripper. He wouldn’t have to clean. He could burn. Daniel piled pillowcases and sheets on the dead maid’s body and spilled some flammable cleaners on top of the stack. Then he grabbed Anna’s tie-dyed lighter from the nightstand and popped the button. The flame flickered in compliance and danced to his delight. He looked around the room, noticing the smoke detector and twisted it from its hanger. He pulled the clip of wires loose from the back and left them hanging by their harness. That should buy some time.

  “Well done, Danny. Now you’re thinking like me,” it said.

  Daniel didn’t look to the mirror for reassurance but simply went about his task. He checked out the window in each direction. Then he opened the door and judged the distance to his black SUV. He grabbed the white-sheet-wrapped package under one hand and dragged it over the threshold, propping it against the brick of the old building. Once again the lighter burned on command and he stepped in the room and touched it to the corner of the bed.

  The cotton sheets ignited quickly and the flames spread across the bed warming the room and giving off a smoky orange glow. He pocketed the lighter and then pulled the door shut behind him as he exited. Getting Anna situated for a quick carry was easier than he expected and he had her leaning against the SUV in seconds. He pushed the unlock button on his key fob and then rolled the shrouded body into the back.

  “Get in the car,” he said to Amber after bursting through the door. She had everything packed and was sitting in the same chair. Daniel grabbed their cheap luggage from the bed. “We’ll discuss this somewhere else.

  “Daniel, are we in danger?” she asked.

  “I am,” he said.

  She followed reluctantly and got into the passenger seat. He threw the bag in over his shoulder and it skidded to a halt against Anna’s back. Amber put her seatbelt on and latched it. As they drove away, she stared out the window. There were no words between them for over forty-five minutes. It took her that long to realize they hadn’t headed in the direction of home.

  -~‑--~@

  Amber began looking for familiar signs or landmarks and added uneasy to her already nervous disposition.

  “Where are we going?”

  Daniel kept his eyes on the road.

  “I asked you a question,” she said.

  “I told you we’d discuss this elsewhere and that’s where we are going.”

  “Elsewhere?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he responded, again without looking at her.

  “The cabin? Are we still going to the cabin?”

  “It’s the only safe place I know.”

  She grabbed his arm to get his full attention, “Safe from what, Daniel? From who?”

  “Not now!�
� he roared and pulled off the road at their exit.

  A glance in the rearview got him a wink and a nod of approval from his confident self. No signs of the weaker Daniel remained. He checked the gas gauge and pressed on. He looked again into the rearview mirror and adjusted it so he could see his precious cargo, then he put it back where he could see his own eyes. Amber fumed next to him, so stressed he could almost feel the heat coming from her body. He sensed her patience wearing thinner and thinner and was impressed with her ability to maintain her composure. She had always impressed him.

  The vehicle rounded one curve and then another passing mile marker after mile marker until a familiar sign pointed them to their neglected home away from home. The authorities would find him there as soon as they figured out what happened at the motel. He knew he didn’t have much time to accomplish his goal, a day—two at the most. What he didn’t know was exactly what that goal was. There was no way Amber would stay at the cabin without a good explanation. She was terrified. Their history together was the only thing keeping her in the car and off of her cell phone.

  Cell phone.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” he asked.

  “Why?” she said.

  Suddenly his confidence wavered and the voice reappeared, “She called someone, Danny.”

  “Who did you call?” he asked.

  Without hesitation or remorse, Daniel’s fist crossed Amber’s cheek. Her body went limp and slumped underneath her seatbelt.

  -~‑--~@

  “Glad to see you’re awake,” Daniel said.

  Amber looked through sweaty wisps of hair at the sparsely furnished cabin. Her left eye was swollen shut from the punch. Dust rolled and tumbled in the beams of afternoon sunlight coming in through the windows.

  “You do remember this place?” he asked. “We haven’t been up here in a while.”

  She sighed through the gag that was tied across her mouth. Its presence startled her and he watched her expression change as she realized the gravity of her situation. She was tied to the bed in their room, a room where they’d spent summer evenings falling in love. That feeling was shattered now, the memories distant. To Daniel, it was a safehouse. A place where he would figure things out and if Amber didn’t want to continue the journey with him, he would fix her just like he had fixed Anna. Just like he had fixed the maid. How wrong things had gone … and how quickly.

  She growled at him through the torn piece of sheet he’d used to bind her mouth.

  “Take it easy. I have to figure some things out and you broke my concentration,” he said. He fumbled with her cell phone, flipping through its menu and finding the log of her recent calls. The last entry was two days old. She hadn’t called anyone. Amber screamed. When Daniel turned to see what her one good eye was fixed on, it didn’t surprise him. Propped in the corner chair, Amber’s reading chair, was Anna’s body, wrapped in a blood-soaked, dirty sheet. It had slipped from over her head and one of her dead eyes stared out.

  Daniel shrugged. “Amber, meet Anna. Anna, Amber. This has all become so very complicated.” Then he smiled. The light had gone from his eyes. He smoothed his hair backwards and looked at the large vanity mirror on the opposite wall.

  The reflection in the mirror quaked with anger and fear as it watched a cocky, arrogant Daniel Hall caress Amber’s cheek. She fought, turning her head away from him, but it wasn’t enough to save her.

  “Not to worry, Danny. I’ve got plans for both of these ladies,” he said, relishing his new reality. “What a sick and twisted story it will make.” The confident Daniel smacked Anna playfully on the cheek and chuckled. “I knew you’d be my muse. Hell, I might have to fuck you again before things get, you know, spoiled.”

  Amber screamed again.

  In the mirror, clarity washed over Daniel’s face as he realized what was occurring. He stared out from within the mirror at his better self, the horrible self who held his wife captive in a secluded cabin. He pounded on the glass as if he was trapped in an aquarium, forced to watch a world he could not control from within. The Daniel Hall of old looked behind him at his surroundings, similar to the real world on the other side of the glass, but not exact. He wished he had just taken the job that Randy had offered. He wished he had told Markus to go screw himself with a chainsaw. He wished so many things. Wherever he was, there was no Amber. There was no peace. There was no sanity. All he could do was watch.