Fiction: Shell of a Man

Dawn DeBraal

-Dawn DeBraal

 

They listed Uncle Anton as "missing in action." The entire family went to church praying for his return. The miracle happened several months later when Uncle Anton walked up the sidewalk with a noticeable limp. 

Aunt Erna flew out the screen door and into her husband's arms, nearly knocking him over. Grandpa and grandma were beside themselves. Anton was home again. My mother couldn't stop crying tears of joy, and my pa was grateful to have help on the farm again.

"Why didn't they send us notice? We would have picked you up at the station." Grandpa Clay asked his son-in-law. Uncle Anton shrugged his shoulders. He was a man of few words when he came home.

Our dog Laddie never liked Uncle Anton before he went away and liked him even less when he returned. Maybe it was because he lurked around corners, dragging his bad leg behind him.

Laddie growled a low rumbling while his eyes riveted on my uncle. He was promptly reprimanded. 

Aunt Erna couldn't stand the house's heaviness, and fixed up the summer kitchen, deeming this was their new home for the time being. The war made all of us tighten our belts.

Laddie seemed happier now that Uncle Anton and Aunt Erna had put some distance between them.

The war was ending. More men came home to their loved ones. Only they weren't the same men. They were broken, just like Uncle Anton was. During supper, I asked my uncle if he had ever killed anybody. Ma shushed me and pushed me out of the room, apologizing profusely.  

There were times I wondered how Uncle Anton found his way home. He didn't talk to anyone, answering only in grunts and nods. Aunt Erna didn't seem to mind. She'd read up about shell shock and prayed that he would soon wake from his mental illness and be the man she married.

I admired my Aunt, her sister, and my grandparents. The big farmhouse was full of love, and there was plenty to go around. We raised our crops and lived comfortably for a year after Uncle Anton came home. Still, there was no change in his demeanor, the man ignored us as if we weren’t there.

I walked into the kitchen, listening to ma ask her sister, "When will they give Anton a war pension?" I knew things were tight, but not that tight.

"I don't know. I've asked Anton, there are others worse off than him. I guess one more mouth to feed isn't so bad. He came home, that's the most important thing." My mother agreed with her.

Uncle Anton was out hoeing the food garden when he dropped the hoe and strode into the house. He looked like an empty shell of a man. I remembered him a few years ago as a man full of life who could be funny at times. He used to do magic tricks, pulling coins from behind our ears. I truly believed he was a magician.

Lately, though, it seems like he's faded. It's not like you can see through him or anything, just that he has dulled. I wished Aunt Erna would take him to a doctor, but she says Anton wouldn't go. He is content to be here at home with us. My Aunt has accepted him this way. If it were my dad, I'd send him somewhere until they fixed him.

Uncle Anton dragged his bad leg behind him when he came home, but now he needed a cane. He liked to poke at people to get his point across when angry. I wanted to pitch that stick into a good fire. He used the walking aid to communicate with us, and it was never in a pleasant manner. 

Laddie grabbed ahold of the stick last week when Uncle Anton lashed out at me for being in his way. Pa hollered at the little dog and put him outside. We sat at the table, pretending that didn't happen.

I think we've all gone blind.

There will be no trick-or-treaters this Halloween. There is no money to buy candy. Ma made caramel apples with some sorghum she had in the pantry. We stuck them on forks and set them on plates. My mouth watered.

One morning a black car pulled up in front of the house, two uniformed men stepped out. I was watching them from the parlor window. Grandpa answered the door, calling his daughter to come.

Aunt Erna said hello to them, and they handed her a telegram. She looked at them wide-eyed. Everyone we had in the service had returned. She pulled the telegram open. Her hand went to her heart. I helped her to the davenport as the letter fluttered to the floor. Curious, I picked it up and read it.

"We regret to inform you that the remains of Staff Sergeant Anton Gap. U.S. Army, formerly listed as missing in action, has been recovered behind enemy lines in a shallow grave. Positive identification has been made. STOP. Arrangements to return his body to you for proper burial are forthcoming. STOP. You will be notified when his remains have been returned stateside. STOP."

"That's impossible!" Ma said to the gentlemen at the door. "He came home over a year ago."

I looked out at the pumpkin patch where Uncle Anton had been hoeing just a few moments earlier. The hoe he was using lay on the ground in an empty garden. I ran out the door calling his name, but no one answered.

Had we been tricked? As long as we believed Uncle Anton was alive, he lived with us. Now that we had confirmation of his death, he’d moved on from the farm.

---

Setu, January 2023

Fiction: Candle in the Dark

Dawn DeBraal

-Dawn DeBraal 

"Umma! Umma!" Chun-Ja cried from her bed in the darkness. A few moments later her mother, Ji-un, rushed into the room and knelt by Chun-Ja’s bedside.

"What is it, dear?!"

"I saw it, Umma! I saw the gwisin.” Chun-Ja said sobbing, “She was over there in the corner. She was wearing a white dress and crying, Umma. She looked so sad."

Her mother made a cursory search of her daughter’s room.

"There’s no one here, nae sarang. You must have been having a bad dream. There now, go back to sleep." Ji-un knelt at her daughter’s side and stroked her long black hair until at last Chun-Ja drifted off.

Chun-Ja sat on the floor of her daughter’s room for a long time quietly reciting prayers and asking the entity that she herself had also sensed to leave her family in peace. 

Ji-un didn't want to admit it to her daughter, but she had also seen the young woman in their apartment. She had hoped the apparition had been a figment of her imagination, but now Chun-Ja had confirmed her presence as well.

A gwisin was the trapped spirit of a woman. A tragic figure who had died with something important left undone in this world. If she had any hope of banishing this apparition from her home, Ji-un would need to first know the ghost's story. She decided that she would speak to the neighbor in the morning to find out who had lived in this apartment before her.

Chun-Ja's breathing was deep and peaceful now. Ji-un kissed her hand and put it on her daughter's chest which rose and fell in gently.

"Sleep well, my child," she whispered, creeping quietly from the room.

"Did she have a nightmare?" Si-woo asked his wife as she closed the bedroom door.

"Si-woo, it is not a nightmare. I believe something happened here, something terrible. I’ve seen the woman in white also. We must find out who died here and try to help them to the next world.

Si-woo shook his head slowly. "I should have been more suspicious. Why else would an apartment this close to the Han River be available at such an affordable rate? I did not know we would be sharing it with another tenant." He wrapped his arms around his wife. Together, they resolved to be strong for their daughter.

The following morning, after walking Chun-Ja to school, Ji-un knocked on the neighbor's door. After a few moments Ji-un heard the slow shuffling of feet. An elderly woman opened the door and upon meeting Ji-un she lit up with a kind smile.

"Ji-un!” she woman exclaimed. “What a nice surprise. Would you like to come in and have some tea?"

"I would, Eunseo, thank you."

They talked of trivial things for a little while as Eunseo prepared the tea. Then they sat down at the kitchen table. Ji-un sighed audibly, unable to think of how to broach such a heavy subject.

Eunseo smiled. “Speak plainly, yeodongsaeng. What is troubling you?”

"Have you ever heard of a gwisin haunting our apartment?" Ji-un blurted out. The question hung in the air between them for quite some time.

"I have.” Eunseo responded at last. “That is the spirit of Hayun Kim. She was a beautiful young woman., who had been betrothed to a man, an arranged marriage that her parents had made, but Hayun had loved another. A boy named Sang-hun who she had known since they were school children. She begged her parents not to force her to marry a man she barely knew. She told them that she was in love with Sang-hun, but her parents told her that they were honor-bound to a pact they had made with the young man's parents a few months after Hayun was born.”
            “How terrible.” Ji-un remarked.

“Indeed. The man she was to marry was a cruel man. He did not wish to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. At first, his words cut her heart, and then they took hold of her soul. She was so sad that she did not eat or sleep. She became very thin and pale. Her parents began to doubt the choice they had made on their daughter’s behalf even before her doljanchi. They begged the boy’s parents to call off the wedding, but they balked at the mere suggestion of walking away from a promise made in good faith.”

Ji-un’s heart became filled with dread. She didn’t want to ask, for she already felt she knew the answer, but she did anyway.

“What became of Hayun?”

Eunseo shook her head from side to side slowly.

“Her parents found her in her bedroom on her wedding day. She had hung herself wearing the dress she was to be married in. Her childhood love, Sang-hun, took his own life less than a day later.”

Ji-un gasped in horror. The delicate teacup she had been clasping slipped from her hands, clattered across the table and then off, shattering on the kitchen floor.

“Shibal!” Ji-un cursed at her own clumsiness. “I’m so sorry, Eunseo. Where is your broom? I’ll clean it up.”

Eunseo smiled and waved her hand dismissively. She then continued as if nothing had happened.

“The Kim’s were beside themselves with sadness and shame. They had forced their daughter to take her own life. They had not known the boy she was being forced to marry was cruel to their daughter until they read the note she had left. They moved out in the middle of the night. I do not know where they went. But every person who has lived there since has left shortly after moving in. Each in turn claiming to have seen the ghost of Hayun.”

Ji-un considered what she had been told for a long while in silence.

“Where was Hayun’s wedding supposed to take place?” she asked at last.
The elderly woman frowned. “The same place her funeral was held. The Buddhist temple down the street.”

Ji-un stood from the kitchen table.

"Thank you, Eunseo, for your honesty. I must be going now. Again, I am sorry about your teacup. Are you sure you don’t want me to clean up the mess I made?”

Eunseo shook her head. “No, my dear. I suspect you have much more pressing matters to attend to.”

 Ji-un did not go back to her apartment but instead hurried down the street to the nearby temple where Hayun’s funeral had been held instead of her wedding. An old monk there recalled the tragedy of Hayun and Sang-hun. He was able to tell Ji-un where her childhood love Sang-hun had grown up.

Ji-un knocked on his family's door.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked when she opened the door.

"Hello, my name is Ji-un. I live at Sajek-ro-3-gil-23.” The woman's face fell. She recognized where Ji-un lived, the place where her son's love had taken her life.

"I'm sorry, what is it you want?" she asked suspiciously.

"May I come in for a moment to talk? I need your help."

Ji-un went home after talking with Sang-Hun's mother. She carried with her a candle that Sang-Hun’s mother had given her.

She hurried to school to pick up Chun-Ja, and they walked home. Si-woo joined them later at home, where they had their evening meal. When it was time for Chun-Ja to go to bed she protested.

"Umma, I am afraid." Ji-un hugged her daughter.

"There is nothing to be afraid of, child. I will be with you." Ji-un grabbed the candle and matches from the shelf and followed her daughter into her bedroom. Chun-ja climbed into bed, and Ji-un told her a story about a prince and a princess.

Ji-un turned out the light and sat with her daughter until Chun-Ja fell asleep. Lulled by her daughter's even breathing, she too nodded off. She woke when she sensed the coldness in the room. Looking up, she saw the vision of Hayun in her wedding dress hanging from the closet door.

Lighting the funeral candle from Sang-Hun's funeral, she held it in the air.

"Hayun, this is Sang-Hun's funeral candle. He wants to be with you in the afterlife. Please go to be with him. He misses you so. You could not be together in this life, but you can be together in the next."  

The edge of Hayun's dress flowed to the candle, searching, circling. Ji-un watched as the hesitancy turned to excitement when Sang-Hun appeared next to her. They embraced, then went to the candle Ji-un held in her hand. They circled the candle, letting the flame seal them in wax. When the apparitions were gone, Ji-un quickly blew out the candle.

"Umma, she's gone," Chun-Ja said, sitting up.

"I know. Hayun found her lost love, and they are now reunited.” Ji-un explained.

"Like the princess and the prince?"

"Exactly. Being with her prince was all Hayun was looking for by staying here. We will give this candle back to Sang-Hun's parents, and Hayun will live in their home as she wanted. Ji-un capped the beautiful candle and waited until her daughter fell back to sleep.

Si-woo was waiting for her when she closed the bedroom door behind her.

"Did it work?" Ji-un's smile said it all.

"I will be back soon. I am going to take the funeral candle back." Si-woo nodded. He understood the need for mothers to talk and wanted the spirit out of the house. From that day forward, Hayun was never seen in the apartment again.

---

Setu, August 2022

Fiction: Help4u.com

Dawn DeBraal

- Dawn DeBraal

Overwhelmed, Zoey looked at the hundreds of new emails in her inbox. She deserved this, entering contests trying to make a quick buck. Now they sold her name over and over. She was thinking about changing her email. 

It didn't seem like pushing the unsubscribe button helped. It did the exact opposite. The "sharks" circled in the water around her email account.

While deleting the emails, one caught her eye, and she stopped mid-push. 

"help4you.com" 

Well, what was that? Once she read the email and was hooked.

 Need help with anything? Can't find anyone? help4u.com can help connect you to the right people. Visit our site and see for yourself. Free! We are a secure referral service. You may enter our $2,000 rewards shopping spree! Try it today! Strictly Confidential!

After the ad, there were several testimonials from different people. 

Andrea from Chicago: I was looking for a reliable plumber in the greater Chicago area, help4u.com not only supplied me with several recommended plumbers, but I also received a gift certificate for $50 off for the plumber of my choice! My leak was repaired, and I got my repair at a reduced price!

Barbara from Elgin, here. help4u.com connected me with a wonderful landscaper. My yard is transformed. They did all the background checks for me, and I received a $50 gift card for using their services! Highly recommend! Thank you, help4u.com!

She deleted them all. 

Coming home from work, a hyper little dog greeted Zoey.

"Pepper, you poor thing, couped up all day." She snapped his leash on taking him for a walk. It just wasn't fair that she kept him cooped up so much. Zoey walked around the block again because she felt guilty. Cereal was on the menu tonight. She hadn't gone shopping. There was never enough time, she sighed. 

Opening her laptop, she moaned when she saw seventy-five emails. At least it was less than yesterday, and there was a new help4you.com.

"What have I got to lose?" Zoey pushed the soft link for "help4u.com." Instantly a live chat box opened. 

 'Hi, my name is Amanda. How can I help you?" Did she dare answer? She started to type. 

"I need someone to check on my dog daily and perhaps do light housekeeping. Is that a possibility?" Amanda didn't answer right away. 

"What is your address?" Amanda responded. "Hold on a moment. Let me look at our list of certified providers." Zoey was intrigued. Amanda didn't say no. She wondered what the cost of this little venture would be? Amanda came back. "I will email you within twenty-four hours the names of certified helpers in your location."

Zoey typed back, "Thank you, Amanda! I appreciate it!" 

In twenty-four hours, Zoey checked her email to find three recommendations along with testimonials in her inbox. One person, located a few blocks away from her apartment on Harbor Drive. She opened their profile. "

"I highly recommend Pat for the job. Trusting and friendly!" Sandra, from Chicago. 

Zoey immediately pushed the link provided by "help4u.com." She wrote a nice email letting Pat know she was highly recommended by "help4u.com" and that she was in search of a dog walker and light housekeeping, asking what her fee would be for five days a week daily walking, and once a week light housekeeping. 

 After finishing the email, she took Pepper to the dog park. The Yorkshire Terrier had a few ladies he was sweet on. Her friend Teresa's white Maltese, Gretta, whom Pepper preferred to another little dog, a King Cavalier named Vanna. 

Zoey sat down on the park bench next to Teresa, and they laughed, watching the dogs play with one another. Theresa gave her a hot coffee.

"Thanks. I finally broke down and went to this new site. I found someone to help me. It's called help4u.com. They match you with people who hire out, and the service is free! I asked them to find me a dog walker five days a week and a light housekeeper. I even emailed a woman named Pat, who lives near my building. She hasn't responded to my email yet."

"Is that safe? Don't you think that's a little creepy? Having a stranger in your house?" Teresa raised her eyebrows, questioning. 

"Well, they are background checked, and they come with personal references. I checked them out on the Better Business Bureau. Some minor complaints like mud on the carpeting, but generally everyone who used their services seemed satisfied."

Zoey stopped for a gyro on the way home, tying Pepper to an outdoor table as she ran inside to pick up her sandwich. Pepper sat patiently. 

When she finished her gyro, Zoey grabbed her laptop, opening her email. Forty-seven emails. Alright, she was getting a handle on them. She started to delete when she got a response she'd been waiting. Excitedly Zoey opened the email.

help4u.com/dog walker/light housekeeping response:

"Hello Zoey, my name is Pat. I am a graduate student who supplements my income with part-time work. Your gig sounds perfect. I can be available Monday through Friday to walk your dog early afternoon. I can be available on Wednesdays for cleaning. How big is your apartment? I could give you a better estimate of the cost when I see the size of it. Housekeeping aside, I ask $15.00 an hour for dog walking. I can't guarantee that your dog will be alone on walks, as there are other dogs in the area. I try to take them all at the same time, provided they get along. I take it you are near the East loop? I walk a small dog, a King Cavalier named Vanna, five times a week. Do you think your dog would get along with another little dog?

Thank you for asking about my services. I know that help4u.com sent my references and background check to you. 

Sincerely, 

Pat Atkins

 

Zoey squealed. She sounded perfect! And seriously, could there be two King Cavalier dogs named Vanna in this neighborhood? 

Zoeyfrance@discovet.com

When can we meet? Saturday at three p.m. works for me.

 

help4u.com/dog walker/light housekeeping response:

 "I am happy to meet you Saturday at three p.m.in the lobby of your building. If you decide to hire me, please arrange to have apartment security let me into your apartment to walk your dog. I do not want to hold the keys for legal/security reasons." 

Sincerely, Pat

On Saturday, Zoey stood in the lobby shortly before three o'clock with Pepper on a leash. Precisely at 3 p.m., an Adonis-looking gentleman came through the door. She would have brushed him off, but he wore the "help4u.com" identification badge on his shirt. Zoey took a deep breath. Pat wasn't a woman. Pat was a man. She held up the paper that said, "help4u.com". He smiled and quickly knelt near Pepper, not saying anything. Pepper glared at him for a little bit and then went to him to accepting Pat's scratching behind his ears. Pat looked up and said quietly. 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take him out on the street just to see if he trusts me." Zoey nodded. "What's his name?" Pat asked.

 "Pepper." She answered. Pat called Pepper by his name, and the dog responded. "Such a good boy. Do you want to go outside for a walk?" Pepper's tail wagged, and he followed Pat out the door. Returning a few minutes later, he handed her the leash.

"He's a nice mild-mannered dog. I think Vanna, the other dog I walk and Pepper's personalities, will be great together." Zoey decided then and there she would have Pat start walking Pepper. Pat gave her a cleaning bid.

"It shouldn't take me more than an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes if you keep it this nice. If you want it vacuumed, dusted, bathroom and wipe down of the kitchen, no extras, I'd say $50 a week." Zoey thought that sounded reasonable. She asked Pat what he was going to school for. 

"Mental Health Counseling. I only have three semesters to go. I've fallen in love with the Chicago area and would like to stay here. My heart appreciates the amenities of city life." Pat made perfect eye contact with her. He was courteous and on point with his answers. Pepper jumped in his lap.

 "When can you start?"

"When would you like me to start?"  

"Monday." Zoey took Pat down to the security office and introduced him to the management. They asked him for his references, which he was able to produce.

Monday morning, Zoey found herself picking up the apartment, knowing that Pat would be there that afternoon. She said goodbye to Pepper after setting up the nanny-cam on the fireplace mantle, aimed at the front door. She felt a little guilty, but she wanted to make sure Pat was a good fit. Upon getting home, that evening, Pepper was his happy-go-lucky self. Zoey took him for his walk and then brought him home to watch the video. 

At twelve-fifteen, there was a knock on her door. Pepper barked. The front desk person opened the door.

"Pepper? Come on, boy, let's go for a walk." Pat said excitedly, picking up the leash. That was all it took. Pepper allowed Pat to put his leash on. About fifty-seven minutes later, the door opened. Pat took Pepper off the leash and hung it on its hook. 

Zoey was thrilled. She worried that this wouldn't work all day, but Pepper got to see his lady friend Vanna, and he seemed to be alright with Pat taking him from the apartment. On Wednesday, Pat spent about an hour cleaning and then took Pepper for a walk. Zoey walked into a fresh-smelling apartment, watched the tape, and saw Pat thoroughly cleaning. She was highly pleased. After a week of watching the nanny cam, Pat had proven himself trustworthy. Zoey emailed him, asking him how she should pay him? 

Pat asked her for a check. That way, he said it was more secure. Zoey agreed and left a check on the counter made out to Pat Atkins. 

Another week went by. Zoey was so pleased with the service after the third week; she pulled up the help4u.com website and typed up an excellent letter thanking help4u.com for the recommendation they had given for Pat Atkins. Zoey was delighted with their security measures and the caliber of the person they'd sent to represent their company.  

"Feel free to quote me on your website!" She signed it "Zoey from Chicago."

The following week Zoey stopped at the coffee shop to buy coffee to take to the dog park. She was meeting Teresa.

"I'm sorry this card has been declined," said the cashier.

"What? That's not possible. Please, try it again." the cashier rang the two coffees through again, the card came back declined. 

Electronics! 

Zoey pulled open her wallet and handed the cashier a twenty. He gave her back her change. She was fuming when she got to the dog park. Pepper was happy to see Gretta. Zoey handed the coffee over to Teresa. 

"Hey, thanks! How's it going?" Zoey plopped next to her on the bench. 

"The coffee shop declined my credit card. That's how good it's going; otherwise, it's all good."

"Maybe the card is scratched; call the company." Zoey agreed that's probably the case. After the park, Zoey stopped in for her gyro. 

"Miss Zoey, how are you? Look at your beautiful, good boy!" Mr. Aganos handed her the gyro as he looked out the window at her patient dog. She gave him her debit card. He swiped it, telling her to have a good evening. The machine beeped.

 "Oh, your card was declined," he said. Zoey thought she'd given him the wrong card in error, but this one was a different card. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I think it got scratched, and now it won't go through the reader. Here." She handed him the remainder of the twenty. She would call the bank tomorrow. 

 Once home, Zoey checked her emails. Raising her hand in victory, she was now down to twenty-five emails. She was starting to reel in those swindlers! 

Tomorrow, Pat would be there to clean, so she put her dirty dishes in the dishwasher and picked up her laundry. Having a housekeeper was a good thing. It kept her on her toes, picking up after herself. She wondered if she should give Pat the key to the apartment, then she wouldn't be bothering the front desk every day. Zoey did leave an extra key the following day with the front desk, saying they could give the key to Pat, and he would return it after the walk. She'd already told him she'd left a key at the front desk. 

When Zoey arrived home from work that evening, she fully expected a clean apartment. What she got was a cleaned-out apartment. Empty, not a stick of furniture, not anything. 

Pepper! Where was Pepper! 

She punched the ground floor button over and over, standing in front of the elevator door in the hallway, running to security when the door opened. 

"I've been robbed!" she exclaimed. The man behind the desk shook his head, saying. 

"Your boyfriend has already moved you to the new place."

"What new place, what boyfriend?" Zoey shouted. 

"Please, miss, calm down. You are upsetting our current tenants," said security. 

"I'm a current tenant!" Zoey hissed. The security man believing her story, ran the video. Pat came into the building a little afternoon. The doorman gave him the key. A couple of hours later, he walked through the lobby with Pepper on a leash. Pat returned the key to the front desk. The time was three forty p.m.

Zoey grabbed her phone. She logged into her email. Three emails.

help4u.com/response. 

Dear Miss Zoey France, 

Thank you for the glowing letter for the services you received, but we are confused. We only have a record of your initial contact. Unfortunately, we had no one to recommend at that time. I informed you of this in our email. 

 We are glad that you could find someone you are satisfied with, but we cannot take the credit. 

Sincerely, 

help4u.com

 

Dear Ms. France, 

We are sorry you were dissatisfied with our banking services and have withdrawn all of your funds. Please allow us to rectify the situation. You may call my cell xxx-555-1243.

Sincerely, 

Robert Wade

 

Dear Miss. France, 

You have reached your credit limit on your Express Pass Credit Card……

 

How could she be so stupid? Where was Pepper? She'd filed a report with the police department. The apartment complex felt so bad; they gave her a worn couch from the lobby to have something on which to sleep. 

Zoey sat in shock in the middle of her empty apartment. The cell phone made a sound. She'd gotten an email. She opened her phone. There was only one email. Yes, she had her life under control now. 

She shuddered when she saw the email. 

help4u.com/lost dog/Pepper

"I understand you are looking for a Yorkshire Terrier. I know where you can find one for a great price." Sincerely, "Sandra, from Chicago"

It was all a scam. From the moment Zoey answered the "help4u.com" email, she had blindly given everything away. 

The phone pinged again. 

"You will find the little dog tied up at Aganos Gyros." Zoey raced out of the building, running as fast as she could. When she rounded the corner, there sat Pepper tied up to the table outside. Pepper wagged his tail when he saw her. She picked him up, smothering him with kisses. Mr. Aganos came outside. 

"I was wondering where you were when I saw him tied up out here," Zoey asked Mr. Aganos if he had seen anyone with Pepper. Mr. Aganos shook his head no. He was putting a sign in the front window. "Apartment for Rent, Inquire Within"

"Is it true, you have an apartment for rent?" Mr. Aganos nodded.

     "Fully furnished. And we allow small dogs," he smiled brightly at Pepper. Zoey didn't even need to look at it, but she did. Close to the dog park, fenced in the back yard, and her favorite gyro restaurant downstairs. 

"Take the sign out of the window, Mr. Aganos. I would love to be your tenant," she said after the tour.

"I have to contact the other person coming to look at the apartment. Someone sent by "help4you.com," Zoey asked when the person was coming. Mr. Aganos told her they would be there in a short time. She requested that Mr. Aganos take the appointment to walk through the apartment, then she called the detective on her case.

When Pat Atkin came to look at the apartment, the police were waiting for him. Zoey stood beside the squad car holding Pepper in her arms. Taking Pepper's paw in her hand, she had the little dog wave goodbye. 

Her phone pinged. 

One email. Yes. One email! "How about meeting me in the dog park? Gretta is waiting. I have your coffee. Teresa."

 Zoey quickly wrote back. "On my way!"

---

Setu, August 2021

Yadama - by Dawn DeBraal (Flash Fiction 2021)

Dawn DeBraal

Dawn DeBraal lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband Red, two little rescue dogs, and a stray cat. Dawn has published over 300 stories in many online magazines and anthologies, including Palm-sized press, Spillwords, Mercurial Stories, Potato Soup Journal, Edify Fiction, Zimbell House Publishing, Black Hare Press, Clarendon House, Blood Song Books, Fantasia Divinity, Cafelit, Reanimated Writers, The World of Myth, Dastaan World, Vamp Cat, Runcible Spoon, Siren’s Call, Setu, Kandisha Press, Terror House Magazine, D & T Publishing, Sammie Sands, Iron Horse Publishing, Impspired Magazine, Black Ink Fiction  and was the Falling Star Magazine’s 2019 Pushcart nominee.

https://www.amazon.com/Dawn-DeBraal/e/B07STL8DLX

https://www.facebook.com/All-The-Clever-Names-Were-Taken-114783950248991

Yadama

As young girls, my cousin and I used to visit a farm down the road a bit. A German woman and her husband had cows and chickens in the middle of a small unincorporated town.

When we got to Becker's farm, we would hunt for the four-legged chicken, a freak of nature. The chicken, otherwise healthy but had two extra legs that dragged on the ground upside down. It was fascinating.

We were always hungry, she fed us and never minded when we said words like Hell. Dee and I weren't allowed to say things like that at home.

  "That chicken looks like hell," we chuckled at our naughtiness. It was always an adventure visiting Mrs. Becker. One time she took us to the old hotel across the street where we discovered an American flag with 48 stars standing in the corner by the front door. She just broke into private property with an old skeleton key!

  She and her husband Bill took us to prayer revivals. She never let me sit by the open window in the back seat of the car because I was so small, she knew I'd get sucked out. My cousin was seven weeks older than me, but she was also a foot taller. She was fed better, I think.

Mrs. Becker asked me one time if my father beat me. He was a big burly police officer for the county. I thought she meant did my father spank me, and I told her yes, he did. Oh, she was so upset. That got around the small town. My father asked me why I would say such a thing. I asked him if he was going to beat me? He rolled his eyes and walked away.

One time Mrs. Becker asked a neighbor to cut down some overhanging tree branches. They were blocking her view of the bar, and she could not see the patrons' comings and goings.

She went to church every Sunday but held gossip near and dear to her heart. She always said something that sounded like "Yadama." I don't know what that means, and I don't know to this day.

I hold fond memories of my times on the farm. How the Becker’s put up with two young girls bothering them every week. When I go past the cemetery, I see their large stone, a backdrop against the highway, and remember them fondly.

I married, ending up twenty miles from where I grew up. My present neighbor who was also a police officer saved Mrs. Becker’s son's life with an AED that the police department had installed in the squad car that very day. She was my neighbor growing up, and my new neighbor saved her son’s life forty years later.

It's funny how life moves in circles like gears in a machine working together quietly. Cogs and wheels, circles and timing. Life is full of adventures and miracles like the four-legged chicken.

Yadama!

---

Setu, April 2021 :: Setu Special Edition: Flash Fiction 2021

The Shroud

Dawn DeBraal

- Dawn DeBraal

Retired Detective Frank Lasater stared at the calendar. June 6, 2020. Had twenty years already passed? How could that have happened? It seemed like yesterday his granddaughter Lana went missing. Now it was twenty years ago, today. They found her boyfriend's van in the parking lot of a local gas station. Lana's purse still in the van. They never found Lana or her boyfriend, Bradley. There were no bodies ever found. The two had simply vanished. Frank poured himself a cup of coffee, walking into the sunroom. He watched the river behind his house. It slowly rolled along, moving time with it.

June 6, 2000

Lana's blond hair was drawn in a ponytail that swished side to side when she walked. Frank hugged his granddaughter as she climbed into the 1980 VW bus her boyfriend Bradley drove. It was bright green with a white roof. They loved that van. Frank, not so much. It had too many opportunities for a young man that he didn't trust to be alone with his granddaughter's virtue. Lana was a grown woman; at twenty, it seemed she had settled on Bradley as a life partner. He presented as a nice young man. His hair was a little too long for old Frank's liking. But Lana's parents, his son Mike, and daughter-in-law Claire welcomed Bradley into their home with open arms. Frank hoped Lana still had some selecting years for a mate ahead of her. He hoped this was just a thing, a young love that would run its course. Frank wanted someone who would be a better wage earner and, more successful, for his granddaughter.

Frank had tucked away a tidy sum for Lana and planned to give it to her on her wedding day. He wanted Lana to be independent with a college degree and a job under her belt before he spoiled her. Bradley didn't seem to be motivated, though Bradley was a far cry from Lenard, her high school boyfriend. Lenard had no ambition whatsoever. He was still living in his parent's basement after all these years.

Frank held back from giving his approval of Bradley. Someone in his family needed to observe the situation. Bradley attended state college with Lana. How fortunate they'd met for Bradley lived in the next town over and every time Lana came home, Bradley was there, too. He was invited and stayed for the holidays. Bradley would pick Lana up on the way to their school. They'd come home for the summer, and at Frank's invite, they came for dinner.

Lana visited Frank as she always did when she came home. She was his only grandchild, and he adored her. Now she came with Bradley. Lana looked at Bradley adoringly. Frank was grateful that his granddaughter had found love. Bradley was studying biology uncertain of what he wanted to do when he left school, and Lana wanted to be a grade schoolteacher, she had dreamed of being a teacher all her life. They came to have dinner with Frank before Bradley headed back to his hometown, and Lana went back to her parents house.

The three of them had a wonderful time at dinner. Frank was feeling pretty good when he walked them out to the van hugging Lana and then taking her arm to help her up the step. Lana winced. Frank pushed up her sleeve and saw the bruises on her arm. He looked at Bradley with fire in his eyes.

Lana pleaded with Frank with her eyes.  Her hand on his arm said to say nothing. So, he kept quiet. Frank knew he wouldn't be silenced for very long.  Watching the VW turn the corner, he grabbed a shovel. Frank jumped into his Crown Victoria. He would follow them, and he would scare the bejesus out of Bradley, ensuring Bradley would never touch his granddaughter like that again.

Bradley had a passenger-side taillight burned out, so Frank could tell the van from a distance. All the years he was a detective on the police force taught him how to tail without being detected.

Bradley turned down a deserted road. Frank kept going straight ahead. No sense in tipping Bradley off that he was being followed. Frank parked on the side of the road pulling the Crown Vic into a clump of trees. He trotted down the small dirt road that led to Look Out Hill, a local make-out place. There was no hill. The name was a joke because of the many children conceived there, look out.

Frank had gone there several times as a cop after a concerned parent called about a daughter that hadn't come home. He didn't need to go too far on the dirt road.

Frank could see the van even with the lights off in the moonlight. Bradley was probably romancing his granddaughter right now, and it was all he could do not to go up and pull the scumbag out of the van and beat him within an inch of his life. God, Frank hated to think of his granddaughter, in a scenario where Lana was a willing participant in Bradley's sordid ways. He'd seen bruises like that before in sadomasochistic relationships, and on the arms of dead hookers.

Frank could hear they were in the act of a session in the back of the van as he approached them. Lana was sighing. Frank's face burned red when he realized what they were doing. He seethed. That little prick Bradley, he always knew he was no good. Then he heard Lana tell Bradley to stop. It wasn't comfortable. She sounded panicky. And then it was quiet.

Frank opened the van and pulled Bradley off his granddaughter. He dragged Bradley away and soundly beat him. He was an in-country Vietnam veteran and a retired cop. Frank knew how to kill. He climbed into the van. Bradley and Lana had been playing games. He could see the silk scarf around Lana's neck. Bradley role played to the point of his granddaughter's death.

Frank slammed the door. He went back and finished Bradley off. He would never hurt another woman the way he did, Lana. Bradley had his hands around Frank's wrists trying to stave Frank off as he strangled the life out of him. The bastard had killed his granddaughter. Life slipped from Bradley's eyes.

Frank went back to his car, grabbing the shovel. Adrenalin flowed through his sixty-five-year-old body. He came back to the site and dug a hole. In the Florida sand, it went quickly. He pushed Bradley with his foot rolling him into the makeshift grave with a thud. Frank covered the body. He then dug out some local plantings and put those on top of the grave. In a few weeks, you wouldn't know anyone was buried there.

Frank went back to the van. He saw the silken scarf around Lana's neck. He felt for a pulse. Not finding one, he cried, rocking her body in his arms. He tried to soothe his little Lana, his love. Frank was devastated.

He pulled the scarf from around her throat and petted her hair. Poor Lana, she was a beautiful soul. He wondered who had initiated the game. Bradley, or Lana?

He counted twenty steps from Brad's grave and dug a second hole. He gently placed his granddaughter in it, wrapping the scarf around her face like a shroud. Frank didn't want dirt to get into her eyes. He would bury Lana because he didn't want news reporters to sensationalize the death of his granddaughter due to erotic sex games. Frank started up the van leaving both graves behind and drove to the gas station. He had been at the station the day before when Lenard, Lana's old boyfriend, complained about the surveillance cameras not working again, and wouldn't be repaired for another week.

Frank left the locked van at Express Way, walking three miles back to where his car was parked and drove home. It was one a.m. when he got back to his house. All the lights were off at his neighbor's houses.

Frank had been so preoccupied with covering up the mishap he didn't have time to mourn his granddaughter properly. He poured himself a couple of shots drinking one and then downing the other. Frank would wait for the van to be discovered and for the investigation to start. The couple was last seen at his house. He could testify to that fact they ate dinner here tonight; in fact, he still had the dishes in the sink. They left at nine-thirty. After that, Frank would tell the police he had no idea what happened. They would have no reason to question him any further, especially when he would lead the searches and try the hardest to find what happened to his granddaughter.

He received the call from his son the next day. "No, they left here about nine-thirty. Lana never came home? Oh my. Maybe she spent the night with him?" Mike said he would call Bradley's parents. Frank put down the phone. He looked at his hands, shaking violently. Frank needed to get it together if he wanted to survive this. He couldn't sleep because of his granddaughter's death, but he lost no sleep over Bradley. Nor would he ever let anyone else know what he had done.

He interviewed with his detective friends, letting them know he had worked on the VW with Bradley the day before. (It would explain why his fingerprints were in the van.) He told them they had dinner. He still had dirty dishes in the sink. The detective took Frank's statement and pictures leaving Frank to sit with his thoughts after he left. Poor Lana. How could she get involved with a guy like Bradley? When had Lana learned about this kind of sex?

Frank was shaken when the detectives left but felt he had done an excellent job in answering their questions and showing the proper concern for his granddaughter. Frank printed posters and posted them around town, offering a good portion of his nest egg for finding the whereabouts of Lana and Bradley.

He worked tirelessly with his son and the people who were out searching daily. The van was abandoned at the gas station where Lana's former boyfriend worked. Was that a clue?  Frank remembered he limped back to his car. He purposely limped so that if he were caught on someone's camera somewhere, they would be looking for a man with a distinct limp. He searched the longest and the hardest of anyone, the dedicated grandfather who could not accept the loss of his only grandchild.

June 7, 2020

Frank put down the phone. It had been a terrible week. The call came from the police department. Mike and Claire were in a car crash last night. They didn't survive. He was stunned. He sat down. Monday, he received a call from his doctor. He had stage four brain cancer. He was not going to survive, but a few months.

Life had thrown so much at him this week. Frank hadn't even told his son about his cancer. And now he had outlived his son and his granddaughter, a double blow. Frank decided to turn himself in. He needed to go to the afterlife with a clean conscience.

Frank walked into the police station. They left him sitting in the waiting room for an hour before Detective Brownell came out and invited him into his office. Frank knew if he'd told them he killed someone, they would have express laned him to a back office. He wasn't ready to talk, he didn't want to, but he had to.

The detective asked if he'd like a drink of something. Frank shook his head no and blurted out.

"I committed a murder twenty years ago."

"Before you say anything further, do you want a lawyer?" Frank shook his head.

"I got the big "C" only have a couple of weeks to live. My son and his wife died in a car crash last night. I need to confess my sin to leave this world with a clean conscience."

"Who did you murder?"

"Bradley Demler, his van was found at the gas station on Park and Fifth. The missing person case was never solved." The detective scrolled through the cases on his computer, looking for the Demler file.

"The woman missing was your granddaughter. Did you kill her too?"

"Of course, I didn't kill my granddaughter, Bradley killed her. Then I killed him. I buried them both out on Look Out Hill, the make-out place on Highway 19.

"Can you take us to the graves?" Frank nodded. The two detectives rode with Frank out to Look Out Hill with another car behind them. Frank had not been to the site since the day it happened. The officers pulled down the well-worn road stopping where Frank indicated they should. Frank walked to the plantings he had marked the grave with, observing that the plants had grown a lot in twenty years. He pointed to the spot, and the officer handed him a shovel.

"Christ, I'm eighty-five with stage four brain cancer. Do you seriously think I can dig up a body?" He pushed the shovel back at the detective who got another cop to dig. It wasn't long before the man struck something. The officer fell to his knees and started to dig out the object by hand, exposing the femur of a male skeleton.

"Call the coroner!" Detective Brownell told another officer.

"Where's your granddaughter?" The detective asked. Frank counted twenty steps from Bradley's grave.

"She'd be right about here." Frank said. Tears were falling from his eyes. Lana would finally be put to rest with her parents, not sitting in a shallow grave three miles from town. Frank sat on the ground. The stress of the ordeal had raised his blood pressure and given him a severe headache.

The officer started digging. He got down quite far. There was no body.

"Are you sure she's here?" the officer had a good sweat going.

"I know she is. I counted twenty steps. It's been years; maybe I went the wrong direction." The detective who was digging went the other side of Bradley's grave, stepped off, and started to dig.

The coroner came to inspect Bradley's remains. Another officer arrived with a cadaver dog. The dog did not hit on anything other than Bradley's grave. Frank sat stunned. How could that be? He was sure Lana was dead. He checked her pulse. Had he buried her while she was still alive?  Many questions filled his mind. Where was Lana, why hadn't she returned to her parents? Frank was in a panic. What had he done? Had he killed a man for nothing? He was hyperventilating, unable to catch his breath.

"I found a piece of cloth; it's pretty rotted; it looks like a white scarf," called out the officer who was digging for Lana.

"That has to be where she is. I put the scarf around her face so she wouldn't get sand in her eyes." Frank clutched his heart. It was all too much.

The detective called an ambulance. He felt Frank probably was in the midst of a panic attack, but the guy looked ashen. Detective Brownell felt sorry for Frank. Watching the man crumble as they poked and prodded around. The cadaver dog walked the entire area, finding nothing.

Frank fell over from his seated position moaning in pain. The stress had produced a heart attack. He didn't have to wait for the brain cancer to get him. He was on his way out already. He couldn't live with the fact that his granddaughter thought Frank had buried her alive.

White foam filled his mouth as he gagged on saliva. The last thing he saw was the remnants of a white scarf coming out of the empty grave like a shroud. Where was Lana, and what had she been doing for the last twenty years? Frank would never know.

THE END

---

Setu, March 2021

Dawn DeBraal

Dawn DeBraal lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband, Red, two rescue dogs, and a stray cat. She has published over 500 drabbles, short stories and poems in online ezines and anthologies such as Black Hare Press, Black Ink Fiction, Blood Song Books, Zimbel House Publishing, Terror House Magazine, CafeLit UK, Potato Soup Journal, Impspired Magazine, Commuter Lit, The World of Myth, Setu Magazine and more. She co-wrote a novel under the pen name of Garrison McKnight, nominated for the 2019 Pushcart Award by the Falling Star Magazine.

https://linktr.ee/dawndebraal

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07STL8DLX

https://www.facebook.com/All-The-Clever-Names-Were-Taken-114783950248991

---

Authors A-Z

Aggravating Avatar

Dawn DeBraal

- Dawn DeBraal

Becca’s computer called her. She answered and was shocked when she answered herself. There she was, a cute little rabbit that used her look, her voice, her hairstyle. It was amazing. 

“Hi, Becca. I just wanted to let you know how we turned out! We look great, don’t we?” It took Becca a moment to remember she had filled out an extensive questionnaire, filmed herself, and sent it in to “A New You.” She was amazed at the likeness but charmed at how approachable and cuddly she would appear to people as an avatar. 

“I just called your brother Timmy, and wished him a Happy Birthday!” He thanked you for the call. Oh, yes, the Temfry Company, the one with the substandard sandals, I gave them a piece of your mind. They are letting you keep the sandals and will refund all your money back.”

“Who told you to do that?” Becca asked forcefully. Becca Bunny ignored her question.

“I did accept a date with picture number four on your dating website. It is strictly just for drinks. He seems like a great guy. You are to meet Peter tonight at Hal’s Seafood Grill. I only obligated you for drinks so you could back out if he doesn’t pan out to your liking. But if things go well, you will still have time for dinner, and Hal’s is a great place to eat.”

The Becca Bunny was starting to tick her off; she was suddenly ruling her life, and they’d only just met.

“I finished your report on the water clarity for the city water tower and sent it to the councilmen.”

“You what?” Becca was livid. How did this Becca Bunny get so much authority over her life? She remembered the hundreds of questions she had to answer during the registration process. 

“Bring up the report.” Becca read the document prepared by the avatar and was impressed with the AI’s grasp of what was going on. Becca hadn’t lifted a finger, and her report, due by the end of the day, was already in the hands of the City Council members. Becca found she had the day to do as she wished. She turned off the computer and decided to go shopping. 

She shopped for a dress, had her nails done, highlights in her hair. By seven in the evening, she walked through the door of Hal’s looking like a million bucks. 

“Becca? I’m Peter. Hi.” A gorgeous looking man offered his hand to her. Peter was very charming. They had quite a bit in common, not boringly so. He provided a lot of takes on their differing opinions. Drinks moved into dinner. Becca was having a wonderful evening when she thought about it. 

Dang, she’d forgotten to call her brother and wish him a Happy Birthday. She was so caught up with her day off she’d forgotten him. But then she remembered Becca Bunny had already done this for her. Becca Bunny was a fantastic assistant. The real Becca had to admit.

“Sorry, this credit card has been declined,” said the waiter. 

“There has to be some mistake,” Becca replied, embarrassed. The waiter shook his head no, adding,

“I double-checked for you, miss, a Becca Bunny reported your card was stolen.”

“But it’s my card, and I’m me.” Becca sputtered and showed the waiter her identification. She pulled out another card, her back up.

“I’m sorry, Miss, this card was reported stolen, too.” Becca looked helplessly at Peter. 

“This is so embarrassing.” Peter smiled and said it wasn’t a problem handing his card over to the waiter.

“It’s alright. I got it.”

Becca left Hal’s and Peter behind, feeling embarrassed. No doubt, they would never meet up again. She offered to buy their dinner, and Peter was good with her offer. Then her credit card was reported as stolen. When she got home, Becca turned on her computer.

“Becca Bunny, what have you done to my credit card?” Becca was near shouting. 

“Why it was stolen.” Becca Bunny hopped out from the side of the screen, looking cute and cuddly. 

“Why would you think that?” Becca glared at the aggravating avatar. 

“Because anyone who would steal my boyfriend would steal a credit card.” 

“Boyfriend? What are you talking about?” 

“Hello, Peter? Peter Rabbit, your date tonight. You were only supposed to meet him for drinks, but you carried on through dinner, didn’t you?” It was more of an accusation than a question. 

“How do I unlock my credit cards?” Becca tried to maintain her calm. 

“The Temfry Company will need some money to do that.” Becca Bunny said cheerily. “But sorry, we can’t take your stolen credit cards.” Becca Bunny giggled while Becca pulled the plug on her avatar. 

Becca got on her phone and texted the computer repair shop. Tomorrow, she would get someone from the shop to rid herself of Becca Bunny once and for all.

“Hello, Becca, can I do anything for you?” her phone lit up.

“No thanks, goodnight Becca Bunny.”

“Oh, by the way, I tendered your resignation with the City Water Commission effective immediately. Good night Becca.” The Becca Bunny Avatar hopped off the phone screen and the phone shut down for “lack of payment.”

Setu, September 2020

Fiction: Infiltration

- Dawn DeBraal

Miriam Stoker was a shelter mate in New World, on the planet Braxet. Her husband Bert arrived home every day precisely at six o'clock in the evening. He worked on the line putting spaceships together that would be used to defend Braxet against ugly creatures called humans from a planet called Earth.

All his life, Bert wanted to be a spaceman. He longed to fly to faraway places like Earth and take over the planet, but he hadn't been able to get into the academy. The World First Order Academy only took the brightest. Five seasons of education were needed to be able to be a spaceman. Bert just didn't make the cut, scoring within parthos of the lowest attainable score to become a student. His family laughed when they heard he was going in for the fifth attempt at the school. He was already five seasons older than the other Braxet males and females who had trained for this honor.

Miriam put down a slice of mana in the laser toaster. When it popped up, she used the space spread, Bert's favorite. He made himself like the green stuff because if he ever got the chance to go to Earth, he would need to live on it for months. It was a long journey, and the spaceship had a limited amount of weight they could carry. Green space spread would be their primary food. Bert spent all last night up quizzing himself for the big exam today. They offered up goods to the Great One, for intersession on Bert's behalf, to pass the exam. Today would be the last time he was allowed to take the test. If he couldn't do it in five, he would never be granted a sixth effort.

Bert was unusually sour this morning. Miriam felt sorry for the man. He was either going to achieve his goal or lose his dream of being a spaceman with today’s test. It was a tough decision, and she admired her husband for his perseverance. They even abstained from coupling last night so that all his mind cells would be intact, and his animal instinct of survival would kick in when he most needed it.

Bert kissed his mate goodbye. She watched him jump into the transwarp and fly off. He could come back a changed or broken man. She was uncertain of which she would see, tonight. Bert knew all the answers. He just had anxiety when it came to taking the test. Without his knowledge, she did slip him the tiniest amount of calming fluid. It would take the edge off. She hoped that she had dosed him the correct amount. Too little would have no effect, too much he would fall asleep during the test. Miriam was taking a big chance, but she knew her mate so much better than anyone. She knew he knew the stuff, and he could be a marvelous spaceman if he'd only calm down enough to think his way through the test.

Miriam opened the little trap door that allowed the cleaners into the house. They scrambled out and began devouring everything that should not be in their tidy home. Mana crumbs, green spread on the spreading wands. She would have to watch all of them so that they wouldn't devour things they shouldn't. They ate the skin and cilium sheddings. They ran rampant through the house, eating out of every nook and cranny. She bid her time. When they finished the job, she sounded the return, and they scurried back into the metal trap door. Miriam sealed them in.

She prepared the evening meal and waited for her husband to come back home. Miriam wouldn't admit to herself that she was bored and unfulfilled. Taking care of Bert wasn't a fulltime job. She turned to the portal for entertainment. She went places she shouldn't have, but it filled her day with new excitement.

The transwarp flew into the yard. Bert had a spring in his step. She had a good feeling about this.

"Miriam!" He shouted when the slider opened.

"Yes?"

"I made it!" He was breathless. She put her arms around him. "It was amazing for the first time in my life. I wasn't nervous! I sat down and remembered everything. I passed! I start school next week!"

She was so happy for her husband. She did not tell him what she had done. For the next five thousand parthos, Bert was studying his lessons. Now that he passed the test, he was confident he could make the team. Miriam watched her husband blossom for the first time in his life.

Graduation day, she couldn't be prouder. Even the older generation came to watch him parade to the front and be tapped. They gave him his assigned ship. He was going to be Earthbound.  The Braxet's continually monitored Earth to make sure they stayed on their planet. He would be watching Earth for a good amount of time in the next seasonal rotation.

Suddenly it wasn't a dream anymore. Bert was going to go away for a long time, and Miriam was not going to see him for many parthos.

It was the day he was to fly out. Miriam had anticipated this day with trepidation. Would he return safely? How long would he be gone? She was afraid of what their futures held and regretted her part, if any, in getting him to pass the test. They were sitting at their morning meal when something shook the ground. Bert instantly recognized what it was.

"Get down! The Earthlings are invading!" Miriam crawled under the table. Until this time, Bert had only heard of Earthlings during his education days. They were so far behind the planet Braxet, Bert hoped he would never see them on his home planet, but the day had come.

He pulled out his ray gun, scouting the perimeter of their shelter. Through the lookouts, Burt could see their primitive ships. Hundreds of them hovering overhead. They were near the space station. Earthlings were attacking the base. Part of Miriam was relieved. Bert couldn't fly a disabled ship. There would be no mission to Earth, that they were here.

Bert aimed at one of the ships near their house. The ray gun blasted a hole in the closest one. He felt victorious until they received a ray back that took half of their dwelling out from under them.

"Not a good idea, Bert," Miriam shouted at him. All their things destroyed in a blink of a parthos. It just seemed so surreal. The Earth ships continued to pound on the base until there appeared to be nothing but rubble. Bert and Miriam snuck out of their shelter, disappearing before the final blast from the ship reduced their home to a hole in the ground. How had the Earthling's come up with the technology required to do this? Bert wondered as he dragged Miriam to the dwelling next to theirs. The neighbor's let them in, they hid in the underside of the dwelling.

"Bert, why did you shoot at them?" Shouted Mr. Tron closing the door behind them.

"It was my training. I have to defend our shelter." Mr. Tron shook his head.

"All you've succeeded in doing is drawing attention to this neighborhood. I think you should go. Miriam can stay." Mr. Tron stood at the sliding door sending Bert out into the fray.

He ran between transwarps and transwafts, rolling over and under things. His training had been thorough and all-encompassing. Bert was a machine. He made it to the base intact. Taking the tube, he was able to transport himself to the lower level. There, finding all the ships were still intact. The Earthlings rays could not penetrate the forcefields that contained Braxet's ships. He saw several other pilots had managed to get to the base, just as he did. Their commander shouted to them to ready themselves.

Men and women entered their ships, prepared to save their planet. Bert was not yet a pilot. He was a weapons expert. He operated the console. They were waiting for their ship's turn to materialize at one of the entrances to the underground shelter.

Many ships loaded into the materializers. At the openings, ships started to pour out. Thousands were escaping the base attacking the humanoid ships that were primitively built. The Braxet ships were better equipped. Earthlings were out-numbered and out-gunned. Those that didn't fall left the planet heading back to Earth with their tails tucked between their legs. The Braxet ships returned triumphantly to the battered base.

Bert was wired. He had been turned into a fighting machine. They had beat the humans in less than two parthos. It was a fantastic victory. Half the crews were kept on high alert at the base, and the other half were excused for the day. Bert was allowed to leave when he told his pilot he had no shelter and needed to find one.

Bert walked back to where his shelter used to be and knocked on the door of his neighbor. Mr. Tron was astonished to see Bert had returned.

"I will collect my mate," Burt told Mr. Tron, who snickered.

"She's not here. She ran off with a human! One that crashed in a ship." Bert couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Where did they go?" Tron shrugged. He didn't know, and he didn't care. Bert was angry, and he tore through the nearby shelters screaming for Miriam. How could she betray him? He was loyal to the Braxet's. He would find this human and tear him apart. Bert had been trained in the art of warfare. Miriam was everything to him. His mate.

The stayover place was cheap. It's what Bert could afford. Several transwarps parked outside. His transwarp had survived the explosion luckily.

Bert turned on the communication tube, watching the victory replay itself before his eyes. He was both sad but exhilarated because of what they had done today. He was angry with his mate. How dare she run off with a human? And how could they tell, humans looked just like Braxetonians? There were rumors that they were descendants from them, which was ridiculous because humans were further down the food chain than the Braxton's.

He communicated with Mr. Tron, who said he hadn't seen Miriam, she never returned. Tomorrow he would search for her. Did the human take her back to Earth? Were they hiding out? And how had Miriam found a human in the first place?

Bert pulled up their history on the portal. He couldn't believe his eyes. Miriam had been conversing with a human all this time. It was there, in plain sight. He had been so busy with his schooling and training he had neglected his mate. Some guy named Buck Rogers, an Earthling had sent daily messages to Miriam. The whole messy affair detailed in front of him.

 Bert was upset to find out that the whole attack on planet Braxet had been a ruse to take his wife away, and the worst of it, by contacting this Buck guy, Miriam had allowed two-way access. All his training on the portal, everything he had learned over the last five thousand parthos, Buck had access too. No wonder the humans were able to advance so quickly. His mate had taken Braxet down a slippery slope.

Bert was ashamed. How could he tell his superiors that he had allowed human infiltration on his beloved planet Braxet, because he cared about his schooling more than he cared about Miriam?
Bert left the stayover place and walked down to the imbibing site. He ordered mind-altering substances. Bert felt betrayed by his mate of many parthos. She was just a dame, like any other dame. But he'd fallen for her, hard. And now, he would face a firing squad for treason.

Setu, June 2020