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Author's Note: Here's the beginning of something new. Its not a Werewolf or a Vampire story but one with just a tad bit of magic. This is the third part in my DarkRealms triumvirate of species---Vampires, Werewolves and Witches. Things are going to be a little different with this story as you'll see in later chapters. I'd like to thank djkauf for the magical editing and everyone for enjoying this universe :)

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ONE:

They were playing football outside and they looked like they were having fun. There were four of them---three of them I knew from school, the fourth was someone from a grade above me. They played every weekend, tossing the ball back and forth down the cul-de-sac. The youngest of the group was Tommy, my former best friend. Unlike me, puberty had been kind to Tommy. Whereas he bulked out and shot up, I stayed pretty much the same. We were thick as thieves once, two dweebs against the world. It was a few weeks before the start of ninth grade when Tommy just suddenly stopped coming around. I couldn’t understand it at first but it soon became apparent that he and I just drifted apart. Whereas I was still interested in comics and MMOs, Tommy was all about football and girls. I tried to get into it----just to fit in----but me and contact sports didn’t mix well.

I sighed as I watched them having fun. It was always like this. Not that I didn’t know what fun was but it always seemed to pass me by. It didn’t help that about fifty percent of the time I wasn’t home to begin with. Mom and Dad were cryptozoologists. If you don’t know what that is then you’re not the only one. Basically they travel around the world and look for “make believe” things---like the Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot. You might think that’s crazy but here’s something that a lot of people don’t know---they actually do in fact exist. They’re just not what everyone thinks they are. They’re actually called Unseen---supernatural beings that most normal people don’t know exist. Instead of documenting them for the world though, my parents try to make sure that no one sees them.

It’s not easy either but it helps when you’re from one of the most prominent witch clans in Americas. All Mom has to do is throw her family name into the equation and it gets a lot of doors open. Humans think they run the world, they think that they’ve got everything figured out but they couldn’t be more wrong. The world is a much bigger place than they think and they only control about half of it. The rest is controlled by us---the Unseen---and those associated with us. We’re a giant network, spanning the whole globe. I’m sure it’s a bit to swallow at first, knowing that everything that goes bump in the night exists in some form but it’s a lot easier to grasp than you think.

I grew up with it.

It was never strange for me to see Mom float the TV remote across the room or for the house to clean itself without her even lifting a finger. There were a lot of natural occurring things in the world and magic was everywhere. Witches were nothing more than people able to tap into the world’s natural magic flow and manipulate it to suit their needs. There are Covens all over the world---some small and some as big as entire nations. They try to keep under the radar though, making their presence known as little as they possibly can. It was kind of cool, if a bit freaky as well.

But I’m going off on a tangent.

Mom and Dad had one of those jobs that rarely kept them home. They would jet here and there---always dragging me along. Last summer we were in South and Central America looking for the Chupacabra. The summer before that it was the Himalayas looking for the Yeti. Neither turned out like we expected either. The famed Goat Sucker was actually a malnourished vamp---yep, those exist too---and the Yeti was a temperamental and extremely territorial troll. There were a lot of other trips like that, too----us going in and quelling the problems that some Unseen liked to cause. You could almost say that my parents were like Monster Cops. Though they didn’t actual carry guns and they tried to dissolve the situations without violence.

Living a life like that has its toll. Mine was that I never got a chance to be a normal kid. Sure, I could speak several languages and I could survive in the jungle with just the clothes on my back and a pocketknife but I just wanted to be normal. That’s how Tommy got so far away from me. We were tight when we were together but those months apart really didn’t help the friendship. Last year after getting back from our latest trip, I came home to a complete stranger of a best friend. Tommy Sinclair---my best bud---was gone; in his place was Tom Sinclair. It didn’t help that Tommy won the lottery over the summer either---the genetic one. Here I was barely five foot whatever and Tommy was sprouting chest hair, muscles and stood close to six feet now.

I finally couldn’t stand the torture of watching them anymore. I turned away from the window and went back to rest in my room. I couldn’t help but sigh. I think half my problem was my inability to grow up and change. I still had the same wallpaper from when I was six---spaceships---my bedspread was Star Wars, I had action figures lining all my shelves and comic book hero posters on the walls. It definitely didn’t look like the room of a nearly sixteen year old. In my defense though, I did have a lot of books, too, more than most kids my age and I was rarely home to do any real redecorating. A small part of me didn’t really want to redecorate either. Well maybe the wallpaper, but I didn’t see anything wrong with the other things. So it was a bit on the kid side but I just didn’t want to change it.

I rolled my computer chair away from the window and over to my desk. I flipped open my laptop, waiting the few seconds for it to boot up. Then I launched right into a game of DC Universe Online, bringing up my badass ice wielder. I was tearing through a slew of Circe’s transformed Amazons on the streets of Metropolis---losing all track of time---when there was a gentle knock on my bedroom door. I paused the game and spun around.

Before I could say anything, Mom poked her head inside. “I’m not interrupting the world saving am I?” she asked.
Unlike Dad, she understood my need for these kinds of games.

I shook my head. “I think the Justice League can handle the world without me for a few.”

She smiled and walked into the room, sitting on the edge of my bed.

Mom was still a beautiful woman despite her forty years of age. I’m not saying forty was old but there were some mothers who just didn’t age well. To look at Mom though, only a few facial lines and some gray hairs betrayed her. Her reddish blonde hair was still as vibrant as the old pictures of her in her youth and she still turned heads when she walked into the room. In most cases, a witch would look a lot younger at her age but Mom wasn’t a full blood---her father was actually human like my own Dad. I’m not sure what my grandmother thought of that but I know she didn’t think much of Dad. He tried to talk Mom into taking his name when he was married, something that witches were not permitted to do---at least the female ones anyway. In the end, grandma won. She always won. That’s the kind of person she was---a true force to be reckoned with.

I’m not sure how my cousin dealt with her twenty-four seven.

Mom looked around my room, frowning. I knew what she was frowning at too so when she said it I wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“You’re not packed?”

I moaned. I was putting that off to the last possible minute. “I thought maybe you could whip your hands into the air and make my stuff float into my bags?” I said with a pleading look.

A look, I might add, that never worked.

She gave me her own look. “You know that’s not what magic is for.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

It was rare for a guy to inherit any magic. I’m not sure why---there was this big long explanation about it but I never really understood that. I just knew that like my cousins Morgan and Jason, I was sterile in the magic department. It kind of ticked me off too. Mom could do all this cool stuff, my sister Jessica could do all this cool stuff, my cousin Carrie, hell, even my cousin Mary could probably whip up some of it now. But me---nope, I was a Dud. That was an actual term too; they called us magic born non-users “Duds”. There were ways around it of course but Mom didn’t want me to have any part in that. No good came out of reading spells from the books and trying to force magic upon myself. When a Dud did that it usually led to bad things.

So I was magicless for the rest of my life.

Mom reached over and squeezed my knee. “Its rough, kiddo, but your cousins don’t complain about it, they accept things as they are.”

If only I’d been born a girl. No, I’m not saying I want to be one. It’s just that girls got all the perks when it came to magic. If I’d been born one, I could be just like Mom. I wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning my room or packing my own bags. I’d just swipe my hand and make it do it all by itself. It kind of sucked that guys got the short end of the stick. It was going to suck even worse in a few days when I kept getting reminded of it.

“So about that packing?”

I groaned this time. “Can’t I do it later?”

“It’s always later with you” she said with a laugh. “You’re a bigger procrastinator than your father, you know that?”

I smiled. “Is that why he’s losing his hair?”

She laughed. “It runs in his family you know, hair loss.”

Major lie. I was pretty certain baldness was a trait that the mother passed on but it was still a scary thought. I ran my fingers through my mop of hair and gulped. I cherished my skater boy look---the hair falling down in my face. It wasn’t girly but it wasn’t exactly boyish either. I guess I skated the line a bit with that which was kind of fun. I liked messing with people, trying to get them to guess which way I was---boy or girl. It helped even more so that my name was Kelly. When I was younger, I used to hate it because after all most people associated Kelly with a girl’s name. The name actually meant “warrior” so I always thought it was pretty cool. Of course, most of the guys who used to pick on me because of it just thought I was a little fairy. “There’s the girly boy with the girl’s name.”

Mom brushed my bangs from my face. “How much more to this level?” she asked.

“They’re not levels in this game Mom, they’re missions.”

She smiled. “Well when that mission is done, I want you to pack your bags.”

I groaned. “Tell me why you guys get to go to Africa and I have to go to the middle of Nowhere-Ville?”

“For your information, I’d give anything to be in the middle of Nowhere-Ville instead of trudging around in the Serengeti tracking Black Crosses.”

Black Crosses was the term they used for Necromancers and Black Magic users. Africa had a huge problem with them and as such, Mom and Dad were going to have to spend several months there tracking them down. It was by far the coolest thing that either of them have done so far. Sadly, it was going to be something they couldn’t bring me along on. Mom was afraid what might happen if one of them got a hold of me. Black Crosses were nasty bastards; they liked to do nasty things to family members, sometimes even going so far as killing them and raising them from the dead as zombies.

“I won’t get in the way, I promise,” I said for the umpteenth time, hoping that I could finally break Mom down.

She shook her head. “You’re going to Nowhere-Ville with your cousin and grandmother and that’s final.”

I groaned. What a way to spend the next few months, getting dirty looks from grandma because I had the wrong anatomy between my legs and trying desperately to dodge all the practical jokes my cousin sent my way. The only good thing about the whole thing was Morgan. At least I could get along with him and if I’m lucky, the two of us might be able to spend a bunch of time together.

“Ravencrest though, Mom” I said with another, even longer groan. “Freak central US.”

“I’m such a horrible parent,” Mom said sarcastically. “I don’t want my son to be turned into a zombie so I’m sending him someplace safe.”

I could never win against that. I couldn’t help but smile. She kissed me on the forehead before getting up and leaving the room.

I went back to my game but my mind wasn’t in it. After a few minutes of playing, I quit. I didn’t have anything against Ravencrest, it was a pretty cool place actually; I just didn’t like the idea of being dropped somewhere. Mom and Dad were off doing something cool and I was stuck with boring crap. There wasn’t a shred of anything fun to do there, save maybe catching a movie or hanging out with Mary’s two friends---Greg and Trevor. The only truly good thing about it was that I was only going to be there for a few months then it was back home. I didn’t have to go to school either, just me vegging around the house. I suppose I could live with my grandmother if I got some perks out of the deal.

I sighed, deciding that unlike my Mom, my bags were not going to pack themselves.

After packing, I just had enough time to ride my bike into town.

It was “Comic Book Tuesday” at our local comic book shop---the day when they got all their new stuff in. What with school and having to pack, I didn’t get much time to swing by like I usually do. It annoyed my father that I spent so much time in the comic book shop. I don’t think he liked the idea that someone as smart as me---his words---spent all my time wasting my intellect on comic books. I tried to explain to him the significance of comic books and their heroes---how they’re like Greek heroes for modern times. Dad isn’t one for the hip or modern thing. He likes things old school. I love my father but he can be a pain in the ass with things like that.

I got to the shop just as it was closing. Jerry---the guy who owned it---was the only true friend I had left these days. He looked like the guy from the Simpson’s, you know the one. A lot of people picked on him because of it but he just laughed right along with him. He was like that, rolling with the punches, taking the laughs. He even threw in a lot of his own, mainly about his weight. Jerry was like that, if he couldn’t make them laugh then they had no business making fun of him. That’s how he saw it. You couldn’t tell by looking at him but Jerry was a pretty badass guy, used to wrestle in high school so he knew how to handle himself if things got too rough.

“There you are bro,” he said, sounding a lot like Kevin Smith. “I was beginning to think you flaked on me.”

I stopped my huffing. I was pedaling fast to make it here on time. “Had to pack.”

“They still sending you halfway across the country little dude?”

I nodded. “I tried talking them out of it but there’s no talking sense into them.”

“Bummer.”

Understatement of the year.

“Got anything to lighten my mood?”

Jerry smiled big. I loved it when he smiled like that. He pulled out his keys, unlocked the door that he just locked. He ushered me inside the shop quickly. I didn’t waste any time. Jerry’s Box---the name of his store---was like a comic geek’s Heaven. It was wall-to-wall comics. Nothing but racks, rows and shelves of them. I’m not sure how he did it but Jerry always seemed to get the best stuff, too. The greatest thing about it as that he always gave me a discount---I was his best customer after all.

He led me down the center row---turning sideways as he did so because he couldn’t quite fit properly. Past the cutouts of Wonder Woman and Miss Marvel, the two of us ended up at the cash register. He squeezed his bulk behind the glass counter and disappeared behind it for a moment before coming back with a box. It had been recently opened but it was clear that the comics inside weren’t meant to go on the shelves. I felt my pulse start to quicken as my heart pounded. I loved it when he dipped into the new stuff for me.

Jerry laid his hand on the box. “What I’m about to show you has to stay between the two of us, do you understand bro?”

I nodded. He smiled and took out a box cutter, slicing the plastic wrap on the comics inside. He reached into the box and took out the top one, turning it slowly to show me. It was a DC one, a title I’d never seen before but the character looked vaguely familiar. I think it was the Green Arrow, it was definitely an archer clad in green. But there was just one small problem, it was a cool. I raised an eyebrow, which only made Jerry smile even more.

“What is this?” I asked, confused.

“DC is rolling out with the new stuff. You know how successful the 52 have been?” I nodded. “Well they’re releasing a limited edition run of a new Rule 63 set---7 members of the Justice League. Why they started with Green Arrow beats me.”

Rule 63---I knew it well. I know call it clichéd all you want, the androgynous kid reading gender bent comic books but I didn’t care. I thought it was kind of cool to see my favorite heroes in a new light. Sadly, Rule 63 wasn’t all that popular and it generally didn’t go beyond fan fiction websites and the like but it was still fun to read. I was kind of surprised that DC was releasing something like this though.

I looked back at the comic in his hand. As a chick, Green Arrow looked pretty badass.

“You think I can take a look?”

Jerry smiled then looked around as if he expected we were being watched. Of course we weren’t. “Tell you what bro. I’m going to accidentally leave this one on the counter and turn my back. If someone---not saying who---happens to grab it and walk out of here with it then I’ll never know.”

He winked. I wanted to squeal but instead I smiled.

I took the comic and stuck it in my pack---making sure that I didn’t damage it. Jerry smiled and then the two of us spent another twenty minutes talking about the latest stuff we read. After we extinguished our usual talk, I bid Jerry farewell and headed back out to my bike. It was nearing six but I didn’t really feel like going home. I know it was dinner time but I didn’t really want to eat whatever my father was cooking. My parents liked to alternate meal cooking, Mom was a great cook. Dad not so much. He had a tendency to burn whatever he touched. Mom and I tried our hardest to force down his burnt offerings.

So I decided to head toward one of the local burger joints.

When I got there, there was a small crowd. Most of it were families, people who probably didn’t like to cook. I did the usual wait in line for about ten minutes, got my food and found a booth in the back. It was my favorite place to hide, away from everyone else. The only disadvantage to it was it was near one of the back doors. After eating some of my fries, I reached into my pack and took out the comic. No one seemed to notice it so I think I was pretty clear.

As soon as I started reading, I was surprised that they started from scratch. An origin story with her on the island, peppered with flashbacks to her life before it. The writer clearly put his own spin on it too which I thought was really cool. I liked the idea that Olivia wasn’t rich to begin with and that her mother was the Queen not her father. It wasn’t a very long comic sadly, ending in a nasty cliffhanger but so far I liked what I’d read. As I was finishing up, I heard the ding of the bell on the door. I just looked up to see Tom and his new friends walk in---everyone who’d been playing football earlier. I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose at the smell that came with them.

Apparently, they didn’t bother to change out of their sweaty clothes.

The last one through the door was George Davis. It kind of pissed me off that Tom was friends with him now. George had been our constant tormentor through elementary and middle school. He was big and brawny, played football better than most. He was a year older than us but he didn’t appear to hang out with kids in his own grade. George was an ass, why Tom would be friends with him after the hell he put us through is beyond me.

Unfortunately, for me, George caught sight of me. As soon as he did, this wicked smile spread across his face. The others went ahead but he dropped into the booth across from me. “If it isn’t the little sissy boy,” He said it loud enough so that the other people around us could hear.

Of course they looked. No one said anything though. It was typical of a situation like this, people too selfish and self-absorbed to get involved.

“Get lost George,” I said, thankful that I managed to put the comic away before he sat down.

I would have gotten hell if he’d seen it.

“Little fag boy going to cry now.”

Ok, so he made me cry once and I was never going to live that down. It was when I was in the second grade. We were on the playground at school, a group of us reenacting one of the Star Wars prequels on the monkey bars. George came out of nowhere. He thought it would be fun to drop in with a big ass stick, swinging it like a lightsaber. He caught me in the chin with it, which would have been nothing except for the fact that I was already close to the end of the thing to begin with. I slipped and tumbled backwards, landing flat on my back. For an eight year old, that hurt like hell so of course I was going to cry. George got suspended for a week because of it, which was the first of many abuses from him after that.

George never seemed to let me forget that one. I’m not sure why he was so damn obsessed with it though.

“Come on faggy, cry for me.”

George liked to goad. It was the only way that he seemed to accomplish anything. It amazed me that here he was a sophomore, busting my balls like this. This teasing of his was something that middle school kids did, not seventeen year olds. Yeah, seventeen. George was a bit of a moron. He should have been at least a junior by now but he was held back or something. Me, I was a little bit behind on things because of my traveling. I was technically a sophomore too but I was behind on some things. According to my school district because I didn’t actually spend more than half my time in class, they couldn’t pass me onto the next grade. That was another rift between Tom and myself, he was now technically a grade above me, too.

“Knock it off,” said a familiar voice.

I looked and saw Tom coming over, carrying his tray. I was never happier to see anyone in my entire life, as I was him.

“I was just having a bit of fun with our friend Kelly here,” said George with a smirk.

“No you were being a dick.”

Tom never once made eye contact with me. Instead, he grabbed George’s arm and pulled him from my booth. A year ago, George would have snapped around and punched Tommy in the face for something like that but Tom was different. For one thing, he was a head taller than George and for another; he was starting to get ripped. It made sense I suppose. Tommy had three older brothers, all of whom were huge guys. It was only a matter of time for Tommy to bulk up and lose all that baby fat he had before puberty. I was happy for him, happy that he finally broke out of that awkward phase of his but it still annoyed me that he had to leave me behind to do it. What kind of friend leaves their only other friend behind just because he grew taller and got muscles?

Tom half dragged, half pushed George toward their respective booth. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the bully be manhandled like that. Why Tom hung out with him, I didn’t know but I was glad to see him pushing back finally. I just hoped one of these days my absentee puberty would kick, I’d get some height and muscles and be able to push back a bit myself. I definitely wouldn’t be friends with George though. If need be, I’d find my own friends and try to stay as far away from George as possible---kind of like I tried to do now.

I watched them for a few moments more but they seemed to completely ignore me. They were laughing about something I couldn’t hear. As I turned away, I caught sight of two guys as they came into the place. They were the kind of guys who didn’t belong in a family restaurant. Tall and sinister looking, dressed in black. They didn’t even bother to go to the counter either. Instead, they dropped into a booth. One of them looked around for a moment before his eyes fell on me. Looking at him, I couldn’t help but shudder. He had slicked back hair and a tiny moon shaped scar below his left eye. His companion turned toward me as well. He was even uglier, his face all pock marked and creepy looking. I felt like I was going to throw up looking at him.

I tried not to look at them but it was hard not to. In the end, I finished eating my fries. I couldn’t eat my burger, looking at pock face made me lose my appetite. I took my tray to the trash bin near the door, thankfully the back one. As I was dumping it, I took one last look at the creepy guys. Scarface was now standing, looking in my direction again. A shiver went down my spine. What the hell was this guy’s problem, was he some kind of pervert?

I didn’t wait to find out. I finished dumping my food and left the place.

Our house wasn’t that far from town. In fact, it only took about ten minutes to ride my bike back and forth. Tonight though I was in the mood to take things slow. There was this small road that went from our house to town, a river on one side, woods on the other. Our house was just on the other side of a bridge that crossed the river. Tommy and I used to do some fishing in that river whenever we could. There was this little spot under the bridge that was perfect for it. We never caught much but it was fun to get out of the house every now and then. Sometimes when I rode home like this I liked to stop at the bridge and just think.

I had some things to think about tonight.

Chief among those thoughts were those two guys. They kind of freaked me out a bit, especially the way they looked at me. I’d been stared at like that before, more than once actually. Most of the time it was jackasses trying to decide if I was a girl or a boy. I was short, my sandy colored hair was a cut in a unisex style and I didn’t have an inch of facial hair whatsoever. It didn’t help that I had this baby smooth face and long eyelashes. A lot of people mistook me for an underdeveloped tomboy. More than once while shopping, sales ladies would come up to me and Mom and tell us we were shopping in the wrong section. Most of them trying to redirect us into the Misses Department. I got used to and ignored most of that. It was the other stuff that I couldn’t ignore.

The perverts.

I hated it when guys stared a little be longer than usual at me. I’ll be the first to admit that I was a bit on the cute side. That’s one of the reasons I grew my hair out in the front, hoping to hide my face. All that did was confuse people more though. It was always like this too. In elementary school, I used to buzz my head but the only thing that got were angry teachers, convinced my parents wanted a boy. I would get sent home with notes saying they were going to report them for shaving such a pretty little girl’s hair all off. I didn’t act like a girl though, I didn’t dress like one either and yet all my teachers still thought I was one. In middle school, they actually tried to kick me out of gym class because they thought they’d made a mistake.

By the time I got to high school, I was so annoyed with it that I just tried to ignore it. So I was a bit girly, it wasn’t the end of the world. It didn’t last very long anyway. People would make a few mistakes in the beginning then everything was fine. Occasionally I would be called Miss Daniels but I never bothered to correct people. It was a way of life for me. The only thing I did like about this whole going to Ravencrest thing was that I wouldn’t have to go to school while I was there so I didn’t have to worry about anyone thinking I was Miss Kelly Daniels instead of Mister.

I stopped riding when my cell rang. I groaned. I was halfway to the bridge, almost home. I took the cell out of my pack, not even bothering to check who it was.

“Hi Mom” I said with a sigh.

“There you are,” she said “your father and I were wondering when you’d get back.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was in town, went to the Box.”

Mom lowered her voice. “Tell me you stopped and ate somewhere?”

She was probably speaking softly so my Dad didn’t overhear.

“Of course.”

“Lucky.”

I laughed. One of these days, I was going to have to learn how to cook so that I could relieve Dad of his duties.

My cell beeped in my ear. I looked at the screen, my battery was really low. One of these days I was going to have to learn to charge this thing too---not that I didn’t know how too, I was just lazy.

“Mom my cell is dying; I’m almost at the bridge. I’ll be home in sec.”

Mom clicked off which wasn’t a moment too soon as my phone completely died. I stuck it back into my pack and started pedaling again. I was still taking it slow. Home was probably another six minutes away or so. I thought about picking up speed but I liked these quiet nighttime rides. They were relaxing. They also gave me a little more time to myself. Ever since my sister Jessica went away to college last year, Mom and Dad had been kind of smothering me a lot. I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy the attention but you can only have so much before it starts to get on your nerves. So I started taking it slower on my way back home so that I could have a little more time to myself. It was nice actually.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one on the road tonight.

Behind me there was car fast approaching. I often ran into cars every now and then. I was pretty good with the traffic safety rules---Dad made me memorize them. I pulled over to the side of the road, hoping the car would pass me by. But it didn’t, in fact it seemed to be slowing a bit. I’m not sure I liked that. I turned to see if I could make out who it was. I knew a few people who drove. This car however I didn’t recognize it. It was black; no one I knew drove a black car. It looked foreign too, maybe a BMW. That was a bit of a surprise, after all this was a fairly small town, who drove a car like that around here?

Regardless of the car, it didn’t seem to want to pass me. I waved it on, hoping it would get the hint. But as the car got closer, a chill went up my spine. I caught sight of the driver; it was the scar-faced guy from the restaurant. My heart skipped a bit as sweat trickled down the back of my neck. What the hell? The car turned on its brights then picked up speed. Shit, these guys were crazy. I started pedaling as fast as I could. The car revved its engine behind me, pouring on the speed now. I’d never pedaled so fast in my entire life.

Thankfully, the bridge was in sight.

Not that really mattered. They were still going to follow me even if I got over the bridge. I’m not sure what their deal was but I knew I couldn’t let them follow me home. I didn’t want two creeps like that knowing where I lived. I needed to lose them and lose them fast. When I got closer to the bridge, I made my decision. There was this little path that went off the side of the road. It dropped down to the river, crossing under the bridge. Tommy and I used to take it down to go fishing. It was pitch black down there so hopefully I could get down there and out of sight.

I found the path in question. The car was nearly on my back wheel. I’m not sure what they were going to do if they caught me and I didn’t want to find out. I put a little more oomph in my pedaling. I made it look like I was going to the bridge and then at the last possible second I turned off down the little path. The car was going so fast that it sped right past me. I whipped down the path, skidding to a halt when the bridge came over the top of me. My heart was hammering in my chest, my palms sweaty, my legs aching. I heard the car screech to a halt somewhere on the other side of the bridge. Two doors opened and slammed. Shit, they were actually getting out. I pulled myself deeper under the bridge, glad there was enough room for both me and my bike. The two uglies were on the bridge now. I could hear them walking.

“Where the hell did she go?” asked one of them.

They thought I was a girl. Typical.

“How the hell should I know?”

“Get a light” snapped the first speaker.

“I’m not going down there,” snapped the second. “These are Italian loafers; you know how much these cost?”

The first one groaned. “We’re going to get such shit for losing her.”

I think one of them leaned over the railing a bit. I couldn’t see his face but his curse sounded louder. Then a moment later, I heard them walking back along the bridge. I didn’t move until I heard them slam their doors and their car peel off. As soon as I knew it was gone, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding in. I pushed my bike back out from under the bridge and walked it up the path toward the road. I stood there for a moment and stared, making sure their car was truly gone. As soon as I was certain I hopped back on my bike and started toward home.

I couldn’t help but think that those guys were after more than I thought, though.

Thinking more about it sent a cold shiver down my spine.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF