Determination

Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear my grandmother's voice shouting out, "You'll fry your balls off!"

I didn't have any balls to speak of, but she said it with such determination, I understood that if I continued with my pursuit, vital parts of my body might become seriously maimed.

This seemed to be of no consequence to me. I needed to get to the other side of that chain-linked fence. I was making good progress, despite the barbed wire curled into the top and the electric wire that ran right through it. This was not a fence designed to keep anything in. No hardened criminals prowled the perimeter searching for weaknesses in the construction. No gun-wielding, sharp-shooting guards were placed strategically in corner towers. This was a fence whose purpose was to keep everything in the world out. Mainly me, I supposed.

My aim was dead on. It took me a long time to figure out how to use the neighboring tree limbs to my advantage, but eventually, I was able to climb up high enough that gravity and a little bit of luck set me down in the middle of the old lady's back yard. I lit on the flat top of the tree stump in the middle of the yard. My toes curled over the edges, as if peeking down and taunting the broken shards of glass that covered the barren ground. I curled my self into a ball and braced for the attack of whatever snarling creature lurked in the shadows. No such thing happened, but I wasn't about to tease the poor thing. I opened one eye and scanned my surroundings.

The creature lay in the corner of the yard in a massive heap of matted black tangles. I knew it would be there. I'd seen it before, from the other side. Although I watched it steadily for what seemed like an hour, I detected no movement of fur, no rise and fall of steady breathing, no quiet grumblings of dreams it might be having. Several possibilities crossed my mind. It could be lying in wait for me to make a move, ready to pounce the moment I stepped off the tree trunk. Or it could have already eaten for the day and wasn't interested in an afternoon snack. Or it was dead from starvation.

I know it's hateful, but I was hoping for Option Three.

After the initial wave of paralyzing fear dissipated from my body, I was able to slowly uncurl myself and stand upright, hands on my hips, chest thrust forward. I'm not sure who I was trying to convince of my fearlessness, the creature or myself. I should have worn a cape. All the best superheroes had them.

But even with a cape, I couldn't fly like a superhero. I was left to my own devices to figure out how to get from this stump to the back door of the house. (Something you may not know about me: I had a lot brothers growing up, so I was a Boy Scout.) I came prepared.

I'd fashioned a sturdy wooden dowel with a metal hook embedded in the end, and I used it to reach out and grab the electrified clothesline that ran the length of the yard. There was no time to speculate whether or not you could actually use that clothesline to hang your clothes. I wasn't able to stop and snicker at the idea of a whole load of crispy undies waving in the breeze. I hooked my big stick onto the line, gave a little jump and I was whizzing off toward the screen door to the mudroom of my grandma's house. The glass shards beneath my feet seemed to come alive as I passed over them, undulating in perfect rhythm, reaching up for my bare toes and all parts connected to them. I'm sure I could identify the unique color of dried blood encrusted on the edges of those razor sharp pieces.  I slammed into the screen door, and from the corner of my eye, I saw a bulky black blur rushing toward me. Its snarling was loud enough to vibrate my entire body.

I guess it had been Option One after all.

No worries. I was in the door, and I shut it in his face just as he reached me. The handy 2"x6" nested into its brackets just as the beast was throwing itself into the door, determined to have his meal. I watched and waited for the thumps to subside. The deafening snarls eventually faded away.

"You're late," Aunt Mary accused me. I turned to see her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking down at me with a glint in her eye.

"And you're dead," I reminded her. She threw back her head and laughed at me. We hugged and sat down around the kitchen table with the others.

Somebody handed me a beer, and Aunt Mary dealt me in.
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Just When I Least Expect It

I don't remember why I had that half-man, half-monster face down on a cold, concrete floor with my knee shoved into his back. I can vaguely recall some sort of wild chase, some violence and shouting. The one thing I do remember for sure was that I was scared and unsure that I would be able to handle the situation on my own. The creature had uneven, nasty, sharp teeth protruding from his face, and my hand was inches from being devoured. I knew I was going to need that hand for later. I struggled to maintain the hold I had.

I was concentrating on that when my green-eyed hero showed up to rescue me. I had dreamed of him before, but he had never done much more than keep me company.

He charged in and made quick work of the monster. I can still hear the snarling and snorting and grunting. Some from the monster, some from him. His focus was more on disposing of the creature, not on saving me, but that didn't keep me from being grateful to him and his beautiful sea moss eyes.

When it was all over, I wrapped my arms around his neck to thank him. He seemed stunned at first. He hesitated. I could feel his confusion, but it only lasted for a moment. His arms wrapped around me, not only to return the hug, but to comfort me. I could feel his face turn into my neck. I felt the quick kiss against my hair.

Then I froze.

I can count on one hand the number of times I've been comforted by a hug. It always throws me off when somebody does it simply to make me feel better. It is a kindness I do not receive often and never expect when it happens.

Even in my dream, it threw me off kilter, but at least in the dream, I was able to relax. I laid my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes and accepted the warmth.