E-mail from Deputy Michael Rhodes Dated June 17th, 2016 - "The Cannibal Killer" Part-1

Author's note: Due to health issues I didn't have time to prepare a good Halloween tale, so I'll be re-running one of our more 'scary' tales. Please enjoy...

****WARNING THIS STORY MAY BE TOO INTENSE FOR SOME READERS, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN A VICTIM OF RAPE, VIOLENCE, OR LOST SOMEONE TO A VIOLENT ACT.  PLEASE DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU THINK THIS STORY MAY CAUSE YOU UNDO MENTAL OR EMOTIONAL ANGUISH.**** 

Dear Uncle Nate,

I know it's just been a month or two since you were last out this way, but bad things have been happening.  REALLY bad things.  Right now we've got the townspeople, the Mayor, hell even the Governor clamoring for an arrest and so far we've been coming up empty.  

We almost got him last night but his 'victim' had to come first.  It was my partner, Terri McCloud.  You'll remember her of course.  She had dinner with us that one night.  But even if she wasn't my partner, I'd have still put her first.  She's one of us and you watch out for your own, especially when they wear the same uniform as you.  You told me that a long time ago. I was too young to fully understand what you'd meant back then, but when I enlisted in the army, your words came flooding back and I finally got it.  

Of course, I'm not in the army now, but I still wear a uniform and so do my fellow deputies, like Terri.  And right now we're up against something, or someone, who seems almost inhuman.  How else can you describe a rapist who also eats parts of his victims?  You don't expect someone like that to show up in small town like this.  Not to say we don't have our share of death, violence, drugs, etc.  We may not be the big city, but we have a lot of the same problems.  But a maniac like this?  No!  Nobody is ready for a serial killer to show up.  And this one is smart, which makes him even more dangerous. 

According to a profiling expert who came in to advise us, killers like this one don't announce their arrival, not right away.  Oh no. They're subtle at first.  An attempted mugging or a sexual assault, then they possibly lay low for a while to see what happens.  Did they leave any evidence behind?  How good a job of keeping their face hidden from the victim?  Then he'd wait and see what far we'd take to find him... sort of scoping out how overstretched we were, that kind of thing.  

Based on that idea, I'm starting to suspect he's had military training and have mentioned this several times to our boss.  He wasn't so sure about that theory at first, but after the fourth attack he started coming round to my way of thinking and so have the others.  Problem is, we still don't have much to go on. 

To make matters worse, he knew who his target was last night.  He KNEW Terri was a deputy gone undercover.  How do I know?  She told us while they were rushing her to the Emergency Room!  She'd suffered massive blood loss from multiple stab wounds.  She never got a look at his face, but heard him muttering about "her being out of uniform after dark..." during the attack, but that's all we got.  She's been unconscious since they brought her out and we've got men on the door to her room.  They're checking EVERYONE who comes in to make sure they're hospital staff.  Hell, they even stopped and searched a priest who claimed to be from her brother... which he was.

Right now she's the only victim to survive, and I'm worried we might not be enough to keep her, or anyone else, safe.  That's why I'm e-mailing you Uncle Nate.  You're the only one I know who can probably help take this guy down.  Everybody here has been doing their best to try and catch him, but he keeps getting past us and as I said he never leaves any evidence behind.

I know I'm breaking all the rules asking you to come in and help, and I haven't told my superiors or even my partner about you.  But I don't want to see anyone else wind up like Terri or the others.  Please let me know what you decide as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Michael

Lisa's "Private" Thoughts October 12th, 2011 "Vintage Clothing, Nathan, and Burlesque"

Uncle Nathan is the coolest guy ever!  

Back when we'd been in Europe he'd promised to take me to some places that had vintage clothing and today he did just that.  It was a raining today so we didn't have to worry about the sun bothering him as we drove around.  At the first place we stopped I found this really nice-looking old bustle skirt in black that fit just perfect.  Unfortunately, it was a little out of my price range, but not Nathan's.  He bought if for me.  

"It looked perfect on you," he explained.  "And I would know, I spent a lot of time looking at women from the front, from behind, all around in fact."

I gently slugged him on the arm for that one and called him a pervert to which he replied, "Excuse me, I did work in theater for a coupled of decades doing a lot of different jobs, including helping with people's outfits.  I had to make sure they looked right before they went on stage."

"Sure, you did," I teased back.

"Right, that does it," he announced and took me to a theater that was running a burlesque show.

Now before anyone freaks out, the show wasn't going to be on until later.  So the only people there were a couple of the girls who were rehearsing and the troupe's leader, a woman named Olivia.  Much to my surprise when she spotted Nathan her face lit up and she came running over to give him a big hug crying, "Uncle Nate!  Oh, how I've missed you.  Hey, everyone Nate's here!"

I swear one of these days I'm going to find out exactly how many people are part of his 'extended family' besides mine.  Back in Europe there were quite a few, but now I'm beginning to think that the the actual numbers are much larger.  

In this case it made sense.  Apparently a number of friends and cousins were in charge of this burlesque troupe.  I don't think all of them know his real secret as a couple of the people mentioned how unusual it was to see him in the day.  "You usually only come around at night when we have a show going," one mentioned.

Uncle Nate merely waggled his eyebrows and said, "Well, you have to admit the sites around here are much more interesting at night."

While everyone burst out laughing, I was given the grand tour backstage while Nathan was giving people a hand here and there with the backstage equipment and event he costumes.  Apparently he was telling the truth as several of the girls asked for his opinion and help with some of their outfits.  I think a few were trying to flirt, but mostly they did want his advice and help.

It was interesting to see all the inner workings of a theater backstage.  I'd never been behind the scenes before, so this was a real treat for me.  

Plus I got to see inside one of the dressing rooms where they kept all the clothing and make-up.   One of the things they all stressed to me was although I wanted to go for an authentic look I should also keep in mind, be able to move and breathe.  

"We don't just get out there and start stripping, we're dancing," one girl told me.  "We do splits and a lot of other acrobatics.  And some of us are wearing corsets and those can be constricting so if you're not careful you could make your life really miserable.  So choose items that allow movement and fabrics that breathe and you'll be okay."

I thought this was great advice, because the theater teacher at my high school has been complimenting me on my outfits lately.  She says I have an eye for style and authentic looks and has been hinting I should maybe join her class.  I told her I'd think about it and now I really am.  This could be a great experience for me and open up some doors down the road.  I may do it since I have more time to myself these days.  Marisa is still being distant, but at least now I know what's going on.  Her dad is fighting cancer and she's spending as much time with him as possible in case things go bad.   

I'd love to be there for her, but my parents say I should respect her wishes to be with her family more, so I'm giving her her space.  I'm still going to try and be there for her as much as possible, especially at school.  But I'm going to do as my parents say and giver her her space.  I just hope things go well so we can start hanging together again.  I really miss her.

Nathan's Private E-Journal, April 12th, 2014 : "Fathers and Sons" Part - II

 

The words "You don't look like your sick or like or in any pain..." echo inside my head as I draw nearer to Ted's father.  

How many times had I heard those words?  And how many times did I want to lash out at the person who spoke them to me?  Of course back then I hadn't changed and didn't have the strength to strike back.  But these days I'm a different man.  The pain and limitations Fibromyalgia caused me are but distant memories, but I never forget anything these days.  

Oh it might take me a moment or two to sort through a century and a half of accumulated memories, but it's all there.  There's not a name, a face, or an event I've been part of or witness to that I cannot recall in vivid detail.  I can even recall things from before I was changed that were locked away in the deepest recesses of my brain, including the looks or hints of disappointment from my father for my apparent weaknesses.  They still sting as much now as they did back then, but I loved him nonetheless.  And now I remind myself that Ted loves his father, so I restrain my impulse to grab the man by one hand and shake some sense into him. 

Instead I stop just before the man and say politely, "Please, come inside with me.  Both of you.  There's some things I'd like to show you."

Without waiting for a response I walk towards the end of the building we're in front of that happens to house my private club "The Crypt".  Behind me I hear Ted's tired footsteps follow.  A second later, his father joins us.

In a few minutes the three of us are safely ensconced around one of the table inside the empty club.  It's a weekday which means the place is not open to the public.  Which makes it the perfect setting for a difficult but heartfelt talk.  Or at least, that's what I hope to keep things.  A part of me is still sorely tempted to unleash a portion of my mist form so I can enter Ted's father and let him experience my memories of what Fibromyalgia feels like.  The old saying about walking in another's shoes may be just what the fellow needs.  Yet, I restrain my impulse.  Ted is not aware of what I am and it wouldn't be right to risk revealing my 'unusual' nature to him by doing something to his father.  Still, if things don't go the way I think they should...

"So what do you want to show me?" Ted's father asks gruffly.  

Staring at the man I quietly take his measure.  Like my own father, he's tall and well-built.  His solid figure tells me he's a man who's enjoyed many sports and strives to keep in shape.  But now I'm sensing something else, deep below the surface... physical discomfort. 

Suddenly, everything becomes much clearer to me.  I begin by saying, "As I said earlier, Fibromyalgia is quite real.  And is it not just a condition suffered by women.  Men have it as well."

"Yeah, you mentioned you have it," the man snaps, but there's a trace of unease in his voice.  "Besides yourself, name one other man who has it."

"Morgan Freeman, the golden actor himself," I reply and wait.  The effect of my words has on him is clearly visible.  Before he can respond I continue by adding, "Michael James Hastings, another actor  who retired because of his struggle with the condition."

Ted's father looks stunned, "He played Captain Mike on 'The West Wing'.  I loved that show."

"Many people have it," I continue, "To differing degrees.  Some can be crippled by the pain, others find different ways of coping through exercise, nutrition, medicines to help them sleep better.  But the bottom line is that its a musculo-skeletal condition with no 'magic bullet' cure.  It's a condition where pain is your constant companion.  Many days you can get through the day, but others are harder.  And some are just so bad you can barely get out of bed."

The man looks at his son for a moment and then asks, "Is that true?  Those days you complain about getting up aren't just because you don't feel like going to school?"

Ted has the good sense to not be sarcastic and simply nods.

His father turns back to look at me.  "How do I know you're telling the truth?"  

"You can look it up online," I tell him.  "It's all there.  There's even sites by these men and others who can attest to how difficult it is to live with the condition."  With that I get up and retrieve my laptop and set it up for him.  As I do so, I give Ted an encouraging nod towards the piano.  Obediently, he gets up and takes the guitar case with him.

Meanwhile I sit back down and watch as his father starts Googling the men I mentioned along with others.  For twenty minutes he says nothing, and I do not break the silence.  I merely wish that I'd had such resources to show my own father, back in the day.   Would it have made things better?  I don't know.  Maybe, maybe not.  As I said before, he did love me.  He just couldn't always understand why I was the way I was sometimes.  

Finally, Ted's father looks up at me with a pained expression.  "Okay, you convinced me.  It's real and men can get it.  But why do you believe my boy has it?"

I answer quietly, "Why can't you believe it?  You mentioned football earlier.  Was that your sport?  Were you simply hoping he'd follow in your footsteps?"

"NO!" the man thunders as his face turns crimson.  Then his expression softens as he explains, "I just want my son to have a chance at a good school."

Now things suddenly become clear to me. "Things are tight, I take it?" I say in a voice so low only he can hear me.

The man nods.  "Like my son mentioned earlier, his mother has Fibromyalgia and can't work.  So it's mainly down to me to bring in money, but she does try.  She does art and sells stuff on the internet.  And she's brings in some good money and we're doing all right..."

"But, the prospects for sending Ted to college aren't so bright," I supply quietly.

"Exactly.  We make too much to get him a Board of Governor's waiver, but not enough to really be able to pay for the classes over at the community college, much less a university."

Just then the strands of a guitar playing fills the air.  It's a sweet gentle melody, played with great tenderness and skill. 

The tune has an effect on my companion who closes his eyes and becomes lost in the tune until the song ends.  

"He's very good," I remark as the final strums fade away.

"I don't question that," my companion replies.  "But, is that going to be enough to get him anywhere?"

Smiling I turn to Ted, who is tuning the guitar ever so slightly.  "Are you up to a little 'Classical Gas'?"

The boy's face lights up as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder.  Meanwhile, his father is staring in shock.  "I love that song!  Can he really play it?"

Before I can answer, the familiar tune starts up with all the speed and skill it is known for.  Ted's father's eyes widen as his son's fingers fly over the strings with precision and dexterity that makes the instrument sing.  

Neither of us says a word until the song is finished, at which point Ted stretches his fingers and massages them slightly.  It obviously took some out of him, but he's grinning from ear to ear. 

His father begins to applaud and goes over to his son.  The two begin having a talk.  A real talk.  And although I try not to listen, I of course hear everything.  It lasts for several hours.  The results I'm pleased to say are better than I'd hoped. Ted doesn't have to give up the guitar.  However, his father does confess his concerns to help pay for his son's future education.  

At this point, I see the first rays of sunlight seeping through the window that peers out into the alley.  Although I'm quite safe here in the club, I'm certain Ted's mother is quite worried about what has become of her husband and son.  

Standing up, I wander over to the pair and casually mention some connections I have over in San Francisco with a certain music conservatory which has a wonderful guitar ensemble.  "I'm certain that if Ted keeps this up, he'd qualify for 'assistance'.  Plus, there's the money he can earn here at the club helping out at the turntables."

Father and son look at me questioningly.  

Smiling I explain, "Your son has helped out as a stand in DJ here at the club on a number of occasions.  I've been thinking about asking him to come on board regularly, provided it doesn't interfere with his schoolwork.  And before you ask, YES, he's as good at that as he is on the guitar."

Ted looks at his father questioningly, while the older man replies, "Let me think on it.  I appreciate what you're offering him, but I've had a lot to take in already tonight.  I'd like a little time to talk things over with my son and my wife."

I nod.  "That's fine.  It's a standing offer.  Take however long you all need."

"Thank you," the big man says and holds out a hand which I accept with feeling.  "By the way, I'm George."

"Nathan," I tell him, "And I'm very glad we had a chance to talk."

"Me too," he smiles and then says, "I think we've taken up enough of your time and we need to get home.  Ted, let's go grab your guitar.  I'm sure your mother will be worried sick about us."

Ted smiles and the two of them head over to the piano where the guitar and its case await.

As I watch them, a part of me wonders what it would've been like to have such a moment of acceptance from my own father.  Then as if in answer I feel a hand on my shoulder.  Turning I see no one's there.  But that's all right.  I know it was real, and who's hand it was.  Some things you never forget, and as I said before I never forget anything.  Especially not my father's way of letting me know when he was proud of me...

Nathan's Private E-Journal, April 12th, 2014 - "Fathers and Sons"

                                       

I was making my way back to "The Crypt", after having visited my family's plot tonight.  Everything was just as I'd left it a few months ago.  Except for the weeds which I made short work of.  And of course the flowers needed a little freshening up, so I circled the graves and released some of my green mist, which brought them back into a healthy bloom.  

Went inside the mansion briefly because I thought I saw a figure at one of the windows.  A small figure... holding a... never mind.  I didn't find anyone inside, so I headed back towards town.

Naturally, my thoughts drifted to the days of my youth, before I left for the war.  Unfortunately, not all my memories were happy ones.  Mind you I have a lot of good memories, but there are a few involving my father that still sting from time to time.  He loved me, of that I have no doubts.  Heaven knows he told me and showed me enough times, but there were some days when I could see and sense his disappointment in me.  I wasn't always the son he really wanted me to be, but I had limitations that he couldn't understand at the time.  Of course, I no longer suffer those problems these days, but it would've been nice to let him see how far I'd come.

I had just reached the downtown area of Pointer, when I spotted a figure carrying a guitar case I knew only too well.  It was young Teddy and he was looking pretty down as he walked.  Concerned I started to quicken my pace, only to be passed by a car which pulled up next to my young friend.  Immediately, a man got out of the car and started scolding my young friend rather vociferously. 

Even though they're a fair distance from where I'm standing, my hearing is exceptionally keen and I hear everything as if I was standing right there with them.

"I told you it could wait until tomorrow," the older man says in a very annoyed voice.  "But, no, you have to make a scene."

"You were already making a scene by yelling at me in front of everyone, Dad!" Ted shot back.

I wince at that.  Family arguments have never been my favorite thing to walk in on, much less be a part of.  I consider taking a different route home at that point but then Ted's father says, "I told you not bother with getting a guitar months ago.  It's not going to win you any scholarships for college.  Now if you'd get into football like I keep telling you..."

"Dad I've got Fibromyalgia, I don't have the..."

"That's a made up thing, and even if it was real, only girls and women get it," his father yells, cutting him off.

That tore it for me.  Suddenly, the scenery on either side of me blurs and in the blink of an eye I find myself standing next Ted and his father.  

Luckily the two are so focused on each other neither even notice that I've suddenly appeared on the scene.  "Good evening, gentlemen," I say clearing my throat meaningfully to get their attention.

Ted reacts first.  "Oh, hello, Mr. Backman.  I was just coming to return the guitar you loaned me," he says in a quiet voice.

"Whatever for?  Don't tell me you've given up playing?  You're really good," I tell him, mainly because it's true.  But I also know what playing music does for him.  It gives him a way of forgetting about his Fibromyalgia for a while.  Everyone who fights a daily battle like his needs a coping mechanism and I don't want to see him lose this particular one.

"He's not going to have time to be playing music," his father replies, before Ted can speak.  "I appreciate the fact that you let him practice with that thing, but it's not helping."

"Not helping?" I repeat curiously.  "From what Ted has told me in the past, it helps him deal with his condition..."

"He doesn't have a condition, he's just too lazy and delicate," his father cuts in again.

I nod and reply, "It's my understanding he has Fibromyalgia.  Is that not the case?"

"Fibromyalgia, if it exists at all..."

"For crying out loud, Dad.  Mom has it, you said so yourself," Ted exclaims.  

"Of course she has, but it's a condition women get, not men!" his father explodes. 

"I have it," I say quietly. "In fact I've had it all my life, even when I was little.  Growing pains they called it.  Told me I'd grow out of it, but I never did.  It's been my constant companion every day of my life."

Ted's father studies me for a moment and then says, "You don't look like your sick or in any pain."

"Looks can be deceiving," I reply cryptically and take a step towards him.

****TO BE CONTINUED****

Lisa's Private Thoughts July 4th, 20--

 Happy 4th of July Everyone!

Tonight's fireworks display was spectacular as always.  I have to say here in Pointer we know how to party.  There was a huge barbecue in the park as always where most of the families converged.  Marisa, me and a few others like Teddy had blast.  There was the annual softball game, frisbees flying everywhere, and the traditional water balloon toss.  And as per usual, the waterballoon game turned into an all out water pistol fight thanks to 'certain' individuals who's name begins and ends with the letter N.  Naturally, Uncle Nathan denies the charges even though he was the one who handed me a couple of the water pistols himself claiming they were "Strictly for self-defense."

He doesn't realize I saw him pull another one out of his costume and nailed Marisa with it.  Then he had the nerve to tell her it was me who started it and then handed her a couple of weapons so she could get even.

Amazingly, he managed to stay dry the whole time.  I think it was the outfit that got him spared. 

Dressing up like Richard Henry Lee, the representative from Virginia who first called for the colonies to break away from England during the Second Continental Congress, was a masterstroke.  No one had the heart to mess up his outfit.  Plus it allowed Uncle Nathan to disappear and reappear throughout the festivities as needed.  I know he had to keep hitting the red stuff in order to stay outside on a hot sunny day like this.  And of course, the guise allowed him to wander among all the families, including those who had no idea who or what he really was.  He does this sort of thing every time he spends the Fourth of July with us, which is like every other year.  

After the great water battle ended, a bunch of us felt like cooling in the shade for a while and headed for the large canopy where Uncle Nate was relaxing.  His face was a bit red so I knew he'd just had another bag or two of blood, which meant he'd be good for another couple of hours.  By then the sun would be setting and things would cool off and he'd be all right.

Remembering he needed to 'stay in character' I asked, "Mr. Lee, how does this celebration compare to the ones that took place years ago?  Have they changed much?"

Smiling he began speaking, "Well, my dear, back in my day the morning would start with artillery fire, which woke up most of the town who hadn't already been up.   Then there'd be some cannon and musket firing a little later and there would be a parade.  There'd be music, marching soldiers, and of course there would be speaker who'd gone on for about an hour or two.  Then the real fun began, at least for the men.  They'd head to a tavern while the women went home and took the children with them..."

At that point I had to butt in.  "Hold it, you're saying the women went back to their drab daily lives while the guys partied?  Am I the only girl here who finds that offensive?"

A loud "NO" erupted from all around me, which pretty much included every mom who was present.

Undaunted, Uncle Nathan continued, "I quite agree ladies.  Which is probably why things started changing around the 1850's.  Then the celebrations became more like what we have these days.  Oh there were still the parades, cannons, and muskets, but then most families would to on a picnic and watch the fireworks at night."

Here he paused and glanced around at his audience which had grown considerably, "We've had fireworks since the very first celebration, for those who didn't know.  And yes, we were careful not to burn down the entire town while doing it.  That's another thing that hasn't changed.  We were very proud of our accomplishment and how our country managed to hang in there and stay together.  Oh we've always had our differences of political opinion and what should and shouldn't be allowed, but America has always managed to hang together.  And that's because the people stuck together.  Here in West Virginia we fought to free people who had been denied their rights to be citizens because of skin color.  As a nation we later fought to keep aggressors from threatening our way of life and that of others overseas, not only once but on many occasions.  America was made up of immigrants and welcomed even more who brought many customs and ideas which became part of everyone's life.  And we have to remember that.  Some people complain about others not learning how to speak, read, or write in English, but not everyone did when we first started out.  Some cannot learn because they're too old or unwell and we have to make allowances for that and remember that none of our ancestors knew the native tongues of those who were living here before WE arrived.  But they were tolerant and tried to understand us because they knew some of us came to escape persecution.  In New York harbor there's a very tall lady who still welcomes everyone who wants a chance at a better life or to escape some kind of threat.  Patience, tolerance and understanding is what she represents as well as a second chance at a better life. May we all remember that and try to live up to those promises."

With that he raised a glass and wished us all a Happy Fourth of July and finished with "God Bless America and all who come to her shores."  Once more everyone cheered and I thought, so this is what the 4th of July was like when he was a boy.  We had a parade, a bit of cannon fire, muskets, a huge picnic, comeraderie and now we'd had a speaker.  A speaker who managed to reach out to his audience and make us really think.  And in a few hours we'd have fireworks.   Yeah, this is what the 4th of July should be like.  Thanks Uncle Nathan.

Brian's E-Journal "The Soldier"

*Author's Note: For those who are new to this site, this entry is a repost.  I first wrote this  story 4 years ago and have never done another because I don't think I could surpass its message.  For it shares the gratitude many of us have for those who've served and made the ultimate sacrifice.  It reminds all of us at home that serving one's country can come at a price which should never be forgotten or taken for granted.  So to all who've worn a uniform and lost everything for all of us, to you and yours we say "Thank you, and God bless and keep you all."* 

The Soldier appeared again this year, just as he has over almost a hundred and fifty years.  The first reports of him showing up here in Pointer date back to 1868 when the first Decoration Day (now called Memorial Day) was held.  At the time most people assumed he was merely a veteran but when he moved there was no sound,  and when he spoke everyone felt compelled to listen.  It was as if an enchantment had been cast over all.  He spoke of each soldier from the town who had fallen during the war between the states, telling tales of bravery and humanity.  Then, once he finished, the figure marched back the way he came only to be swallowed by a mist that seemed to come from nowhere.

This happened again the following year, and every year after that.  At first most people just assumed him to be a magician who had served alongside those who had died.  Yet, none of those who had come home recognized the fellow.  In fact, no one could even really describe his features even if he had been standing next to them.  They could distinctly remember his uniform which had clearly belonged to the West Virginia 7th Volunteer Infantry Regiment.  He had all the bearing of a soldier, but even if they looked up into his face all they could remember was that he was young, with a kind face, which had born witness to the horrors of the battlefield.  But none of them could actually describe his face in detail.

Naturally the idea that the fellow was a ghost began to spread among the children and a handful of adults.  But after thirty years passed and those children who had seen him close up could honestly say he had not aged in that time, that others began to believe the tale.  

Throughout the decades, he has always appeared, never once missing a Decoration Day.  And with each visit, he shared new stories about those who had served and fell in the Civil War.  But it wasn't until the end of the Great War that this began to change.  In 1919, one year after World War I ended, a new monument was erected in the town square with the names of those who had left Pointer to fight overseas.  On that occasion the soldier appeared and shared several stories about those who had been lost on the battlefields of Europe.

From that day on he continued to appear on Remembrance Day (now called Veteran's Day) as well as on Memorial Day.

By this time few, if any, doubted the Soldier's existence.  In fact many began to welcome his strange visits, but not all.  Those who were too traumatized by their loss, could not bear to see him come.  In particular there had been Violet Parker, who had been engaged to James Moore who fell at the Battle of Belleau Wood in France in 1918.  When the Soldier appeared again on Remembrance Day in 1920, she rushed at him brandishing a pistol from her father's collection and shot him point blank.  The Soldier did not flinch, nor did he fall.  Instead, he gently took the weapon from her shaking hands, and  pulled her close.  She resisted at first, but then began to calm down.  Those who dared approach them could hear his voice speaking gently to her in sympathy.  Soon Violet slipped her arms around him and held him tightly.  Then she kissed him on the cheek and walked back to where her father stood.  For the rest of her long life, she was happier than anyone could remember, and strongly rebuked anyone who spoke ill of the Soldier or of anyone who served their country.

The addition of new names and stories of those who served that the Soldier spoke of continued with  each passing year.  Whether they were lost in peacetime or during America's entry into World War II, the Korean War, Vietnam, Iraq and of course Afghanistan, he made sure no one forgot them or their service.  And today was no exception.  He spoke of the town's most recent losses with such feeling, one was convinced he had personally known, or had watched each one of them grow into fine young men and women.

Of course, I and a number of others know this happens to be the truth.  There are at least a dozen families here in Pointer that know of Uncle Nate.  And they preserve his secret with fierce loyalty, just as mine does.  It is a loyalty based on love and respect.  Whether he's the 'Soldier' or just the family friend or godfather, he has been there for all of us over the decades.  Our dark guardian, the soldier who even when he does not wear the uniform, is always on duty.  Ready to defend and protect all of us and our town, just has he did the day he marched off to war at the age of 16, back in 1862.

God bless him and all the men and women who have served, and will serve.

 

Marisa's Musings -October 24th, 2019 "Red Fang" Part XII

As I was still asking myself that question I stared up at the Aurora Borealis over head. 

I could make out the stars through the swirling colors. It's an incredible sight. I can understand why Nathan comes up this way every so often. I don't think I'd ever tire of this sight. According to Lisa and Otto, Nathan also goes to Norway, Sweden, Finland or one of the other northernmost countries where you can see these lights. Those countries also tend to have open wide expanses of wilderness which allows him to 'cut loose' with his abilities. Those countries also haves long periods where the sun may not appear for weeks or even months, which makes it easier for him to be out and about even during the 'daytime' whether he's out in the woods or in a city. 

As I lay there I understood that the night, or those periods of long-nights, do have a lot to offer a person. But, to actually have to live that way most of the time? I mean, I know Nathan can ingest extra blood so he can go out into daylight for a few hours a day (then load up some more if he needs to in order to keep being out in it) but it's still physically uncomfortable (even painful at times) for him to be out in it. 

I shook my head. I wanted Nathan more than anything... but to be like him?

One of the wolves who was cuddled up to me must've sensed my distress, for he suddenly raised his head then nuzzled and licked my face as if to comfort me. At first I thought this was more of Nathan's doing, but he was no longer with us. I figure he must've silently got up and headed who knows where, leaving me with my protectors. Carefully I reached up and stroked the licking wolf's face and then scratched him behind one ear. He seemed to like it. Then one or two others took notice and they decided they wanted some attention too. Eventually, after I gave them all a bit of love, we all settled down and sleep quietly overtook us.

The dreams that followed were the most vivid I've ever had. I was in the middle of a greenish fog which slowly dissipated and I found myself staring at a woman I'd never met in my life, but who's face I knew quite well. 

It was Madeline, Nathan’s first wife and Lisa’s great-great grandmother. I recognized her from a number of paintings Nathan has done of her over the years. He keeps practically all of them in his art studio which is located on the top floor of the same building that houses his club “The Crypt” in the basement.

She was standing in the middle of a room with shelves with canned (meaning jars) of fruits and pickled items, a large mound of potatoes in one area, and carrots in another. I quickly realized this was an old root cellar. But instead of gathering any supplies located there, Madeline was simply standing in the center of the room looking down at the dirt floor. I caught the gleam of anticipation in her eyes. A moment later the ground began to ripple, as I had seen it do many times before, and Nathan rose to the surface.

He was standing upright as he emerged from the rippling soil with his arms open wide.  As soon as the ground became solid again, Madeline stepped eagerly into that waiting embrace, and I couldn’t blame her. Nathan was clearly as glad to see her, in more ways than one (since he was naked as usual when he came out of the ground). As they kissed, I swear you could practically hear their hearts pounding in unison.

Then the scene changed, I now saw the two of them curled up in front of a fireplace. Nathan was wearing clothing now and there was a little boy, from Madeline’s first husband who died during the war, fast asleep on a chair nearby. Nathan was holding Madeline in his arms as they were talking softly so as not to wake the little one. While I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I saw a number of occasional kisses and caresses being exchanged with genuine affection.

Feeling like a voyeur I turned only to find another scene playing out before me. The boy was now 8 or 9 years old and smiling as he watched Nathan and his mother dancing a waltz. They clearly had eyes only for one another, even though there were a dozen other couples around them. As I watched the scene seemed to melt and now the two of them were dancing alone in their bedroom. Madeline was wearing a white chemise, while Nathan was wearing what was then called a man’s dressing gown, which was basically a more elegant version of the modern bathrobe. As I watched them, I caught the first signs of crow’s feet in the corners of Madeline’s eyes. Her figure also seemed slightly fuller now, not that it seemed to bother either of them. I swear they were acting like a young couple about to celebrate their first anniversary.

Other scenes of domestic life rolled out before my eyes like a movie with the occasional fades which revealed a new scene. I witnessed walks, trips, travel to foreign lands, gatherings with friends, and a number of quiet personal moments. I knew time was passing, but the emotions and passion between Nathan and Madeline never seemed to diminish even slightly.

Then a new scene began, and for a moment I thought we were back at the beginning, for Madeline was standing in the root cellar again. Then I realized she was wearing a robe instead of one of her dresses. I also noticed there were traces of gray in her hair, along with a few extra lines here and there. But as soon as Nathan emerged she opened her robe and let it fall to the ground to reveal she was wearing nothing underneath. And although time and gravity had been at work on her body, she was still quite desirable. I became a little envious watching Nathan scoop her up in his arms and begin kissing her like a sailor who’d been away at sea for way too long.

As he spun her around in his arms, more time passed and her hair became more gray until nothing but long silver tresses crowned her head. But the thing that got me was the fact that Nathan’s attention and affection towards her never changed. He was still at attentive, flirtatious, and devoted to her as ever. And neither did their passion for each other.

Just then the Chainsmokers/Coldplay song “I Want Something Just Like This” started running through my head.

“Yes,” I murmured, holding my arms out as if to hug someone, “That’s exactly what I want.” Now I’m going to admit, I was so caught up in the tune, that it took me a moment to realize that I my arms were wrapped around someone because I could feel the warmth of that person.

‘But I’m asleep,’ I thought to myself in confusion. ‘Aren’t I?’ Instinctively, I began to grope around with my hands to try and figure out what was going on and awoke to a wolf licking my face. Sighing I muttered, “So much for waking up in the arms of a hot guy.”

“In spite of technically being a vampyre, I am not undead, so I resent that remark,” came Nathan’s voice from just above my head.

Looking up I found that I was lying in his arms. Glancing around I found the wolves had not only surrounded but covered us in a huge puppy pile. As I became more aware of our situation, I quickly realized that Nathan was naked, and that one of my hands was very close to a certain ‘region’ of his anatomy.

My eyes locked with his.

“Careful, I can be very ticklish,” he warned.

Instead of answering, I looked around and spotted our friend and his mate curled up together. Clearly she was very happy to have him back, Sangui-sapio and all. Then I thought about Madeline and all I had seen about her life.

Turning back to Nathan, I kissed him with everything I had. Then I moved my hand lower and took hold.

His eyes widened, but instead of admonishing me as he had in the past, he said, “Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Why?” he pressed.

“Madeline,” I answered after a moment.

“You saw her memories,” he said and began nodding to himself.

Her memories?” now it was my turn to be taken by surprise.

He gave me a gentle smile. “You now know firsthand, that I remember everything that ever happened to me because of the Sangui-Sapio. And you know I have access to the memories of its previous, and currents hosts.” Here he gestured at me and our wolf friend. “But what I didn’t tell you, was that I also have the recollections of those who’ve ever had even ‘some’ of the Sangui-sapio in them.”

“Madeline had some in her?” I gasped.

Nathan sighed, “Yeah, I hadn’t realized it myself for the longest time but eventually I figured it out.”

“How did it happen?” I pressed.

He gave me a disappointed look, then sighed, “Someone wasn’t paying attention in biology class. Okay, when a man and woman are really into each other, certain activities can lead to an exchange of body fluids which…”

“You guys weren’t using protection?” I cut in.

Nathan shook his head. “She caught an infection after giving birth to her son, and wasn’t able to conceive after that, so we didn’t bother worrying about protection. And since I was still getting used to my new existence, I hadn’t realized what had happened until much later.”

I started to frown. “But she never became like you.”

“She never wanted to. And as I learned later on, the Sangui-Sapio respected that and simply gave her a healthy long life,” Nathan explained at gazed out at our wolf friend and his mate. “Just as it will with him.”

I thought briefly about how good Madeline looked and moved during her later years. “Can the Sangui-sapio that’s in me, do what it did for Madeline?” I began.

Nathan nodded. “I already asked it to. Not that I had any idea what you were about to decide, mind you. It’s just, I like to make sure those I care about are ‘taken care of’ so to speak. Especially if there’s the possibility of them one day contracting something serious.”

I knew he was referring to my father and his fight with cancer. I’ll admit, I have wondered and worried from time to time, if I might develop that same form of cancer one day. So hearing that  Nathan had already made ‘arrangements’ for me, was a huge relief.

“So, the Sangui-Sapio will have to remain in me, but I won’t become like you,” I asked, just to be clear.

“Only if you wish to. Whether it be now or one day many years down the road, you’ll have the option,” he told me reassuringly.

“And if I choose not to?”

“It will return to me, and I will have a bit of you to carry with me always,” he smiled.

Feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders I relaxed into his chest and kissed him deeply once more. I knew where I wanted things to go next, but my stomach had other ideas and started to growl.

Talk about a mood killer.

A couple of the wolves who’d been keeping us warm raised their heads and gave me a funny look.

“You haven’t eaten since before we met up last night,” Nathan observed and slowly sat up. “And you don’t strike me as the type of person who’s into raw bison.”

“Definitely not,” I replied, doing my best not to look over at the remains of last night’s kill.

“Luckily, I know of a nice place less than an hour from here, where we can get you a good meal and I can hide from the sun for the day,” he continued.

That made me do a doubletake. “We’re in the middle of the tundra, how can there be a place to stay that close by?”

“I never said it was close by,” Nathan corrected. “I said we can get there in less than an hour.”

“But it took us a few hours to get where we are from the airport,” I pointed out.

“That’s because we were trying pick up the pack’s scent and then zero in on their location,” Nathan replied reasonably.

Apparently, him having an answer for everything was one of those little quirks I was going to have to get used to. Still, as much as I wanted him in that moment, I was sorely tempted to smack him on the arm. But I resisted and pulled out my cellphone. I knew there probably wouldn’t be any reception here, but since it was still kind of dark I was curious to know that the time was.

You can imagine my surprise to see it was 7 in the morning. Then I reminded myself where we were and that the nights were longer here. However, I could see the first hints of the coming dawn way in the distance. Nathan then informed me the sun would not be up proper for another 2 hours, which meant we needed to get him indoors as well get me food.

Around us the wolves began to meander amongst themselves, while our friend and his mate came over. She came to a stop just out of arms reach, while he came right up to me. Bending down, I ran my hands through his ruff once more and gave him a hug which he readily accepted. “Take care of yourselves,” I told him, knowing that a part of him understood my words perfectly.

He in turn, nuzzled and licked me. Then he looked at Nathan and gave him a short bark. To which Nathan smiled and said, “Thank you, I will.”

Then the pair returned to their pack and slowly moved on.

“He invited you to come and run with them again sometime, didn’t he?” I asked Nathan who was already transforming back to his own wolf form. Once shifted, he nodded, then gestured for me to climb onto his back once more.

Obediently, I climbed on board and felt the fur stretch and wrap around me once more. And boy was I glad for it. When we took off, we were moving way faster than last night, and I couldn’t help but keep a death-grip on Nathan as we went.

But as he promised, we reached our destination in just under an hour. Although, I was more than a little shocked by what we were looking at as I climbed off him.

“Are you serious?” I asked Nathan as he began putting on the clothing I had been keeping safe for him since the night before. “I thought you said there was a ‘nice place’ we could go.”

“It is a nice place,” he protested.

“It’s an ICE place!” I cried gesturing at the white curved structure. “It’s a frickin’ igloo! It’s going to be freezing inside.”

“No, it’s not. Take a closer look,” he instructed.

Frowning, I did as he instructed and got closer. Now I could see that it wasn’t made of ice but was a geodome partly covered in snow and frost. I could make out a chimney of sorts and as I moved around I spotted a wooden section that acted as the entrance to the structure. I was slowly becoming less annoyed and more impressed. I’d seen pictures of such places on the internet. Most of them were found in the Nordic countries. However, I had heard there were some here in Alaska but those were located way north of where we were.

“I had it built by some friends from Norway a few years ago,” Nathan explained.

“So you own this land?”

He nodded. “I went the ‘homestead’ route back in the 1960’s. I own several pieces up here in fact, and before you ask, yes, I do have cabins/homes built on them too. And all of them are well stocked with food, warm beds, and heating materials.”

Taking another look at the dome I could see there was a huge window looking out onto the tundra and the sky. Having slept under the Northern Lights outdoors, I started thinking about being able to do it again but inside a nice warm place with a bed.

My mind suddenly switched over to sharing a bed with Nathan all alone up here under those lights…then I started thinking about Lisa. My best dearest friend, who also cared for Nathan every bit as much as I do. While she and I had talked many times about one of us being with him, we hadn’t really…

Suddenly, my phone started to vibrate. I had a signal? All the way out here? Pulling the phone out I saw that I had full bars and a message. It was from Lisa. “It’s your time. Go for it.”

“What?” I stammered, staring at the message in confusion. She knew? But how?

Nathan came over and placed a hand on my face. “Open your mind and listen,” he told me.

Then I heard Lisa’s voice inside my head saying, “Welcome to the family, Bestie. And remember, I love you too.”

“The Sangui-Sapio,” I whispered in shock, “She has some in her as well?”

Nathan nodded. “I only do it with certain people who are very dear to me who I want to keep a close eye on. This way I can be there all the faster in case I’m… needed during an emergency.”

The way he said that last part told me it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss right now. And I was fine with that. Just knowing that my bond with Lisa had become even stronger and made us closer than ever, made me extremely happy.

But not as happy as Nathan did over the next few days and nights…

THE END - as promised