The Interview...

“Do you mind if I record this?”

“No, I don’t mind, but I don’t think it will do you any good.”

“Why is that?”

“Something in the tone of my voice, or the pitch, I don’t know, but something seems to cause fits with recording equipment. But go ahead. I’d just still take good notes if I were you.”

“Okay, well, I’ll try anyway. So let’s begin. You stated that you were the last of a dying breed. Why do you feel this way?”

“When I first got in to the business there were hundreds of thousands of us with more coming up every day. Now? It’s few and far between to find someone willing to put in the work.”

“Why do you think that is? Is it a change in the environment or a change in desires?”

“That’s part of it. The environment. Fifty years ago? Kids went to bed, the light was turned out, they were left to deal with things on their own. Now? There’s a night light in every room. If they even sleep alone. The door is open, their parents come running for every slight whimper in the night. You cannot do good work like that. And if you do find a kid on their own they just aren’t scared anymore. I blame the movies.”

“The movies? You mean like Monsters Inc?”

“No, though those were pretty funny. I appreciated what they tried to do there, say we are from a different world and that we learned how to live on laughter. That’s adorable.”

“So you aren’t from another world?”

“Please.We have been here as long as you have. Maybe we were even here first.”

“So why do you blame the movies if it’s not those movies?”

“Kids today watch scary movies and they aren’t scared. Because their parents are sitting right there explaining how they work. Why it’s not real. Why it’s not scary. So when they do see something, they can talk themselves out of it. They don’t think anything is real. The things that go bump in the night are just things. Movies and parents. Just killing off the industry.”

“But you are still working?”

“Oh yeah, I adapt. I saw it in the 70s when everyone started sleeping in platform water beds. A whole generation of Unders was forced out of work.”

“Unders? That’s how you refer to yourselves?”

“That’s a job division yes. Unders, under the bed monsters, Closets, those are the ones in your closet, DH, those are dark hallway dwellers, Subs, those are the basement guys. You get the point.”

“Interesting. And you all work together?”

“Yes, we all work for the same company. Just different specializations. Though an Upper could take over for Sub pretty easily and I’ve spent some time as a Closet when that was more effective, but usually you train in one area, you stay in that area.”

“So tell me something about what it is you actually do.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, I have a general idea, you hide and scare people. But there has to be more to it than that.”

“There is so much more. I don’t hide and scare people. I am a growth facilitator. I am one of the things that makes you stronger. Because I can’t actually kill you. The rules you know.”

“The rules? So there are actual rules?”

“Of course there are rules. There are always rules. I only work at night. I only work in the dark or the deep shadows. I cannot actually kill you. I must respect the blanket. Though I have no idea why anyone wouldn’t do that one just naturally.”

“Naturally?”

“Yes, it nature. Think about it. How do you protect yourself from the Things that go Bump in the Night?”

She stopped and thought.

“Don’t take too long here, you already know. Imagine you are in your bed and you get that feeling, that creeping up your arm feeling. That someone is watching me feeling. What do you do?”

“I hide under the blanket.”

“Exactly! And who taught you to hide under the blanket?”

She looked puzzled, “I don’t remember. But it had to be someone. I mean I know we all did it.”

“You all did do it. And nobody told any of you to do it. It’s natural. You hide under the blanket and I will never touch the blanket. It’s the way it’s been since time began. Something in your little lizard brain that still acts on instinct recognizes the safety of the blanket and something in my giant lizard brain recognizes the threat. So you use it, I respect it. And I wait for a foot, or a hand to drop out from under it so I can take it.”

“But if you can’t kill us, then why wait for a hand or foot?”

“What if I decide to break the rules? You never know if that night, the one you sleep with your arm dangling off the edge of the bed is the night I say, ‘Fuck it, I was going to quit anyway’ and just take you.”

She shuddered.

“See? That’s why it’s important. You just never know what an Under is capable of. I mean we aren’t as creepy as a Sub, they work all the time, day or night. No lights in the basement after all.”

“Okay, so back to how you adapted. How you stayed in your line of work when so many have been pushed out.”

“I recognized early on that though the children might have been our bread and butter in the early years now that the adults were hovering so much that wasn’t going to work. So I asked myself, why are the adults hovering? I mean their parents didn’t hover. Why are they hovering? And I realized they never got over it. And so they wanted to make sure their kids never had to experience it at all. Well….you see where that would lead right?”

“No. Actually I don’t. I’m sorry, why would that lead to anything other than a whole generation of kids who aren’t scared of the umm…Unders?”

“The kids might not be scared. But the adults still were. So I just switched up my routine. Instead of going into little Johnny’s room, I head straight for mommy and daddy’s. Now it takes a little more, let’s say creativity to scare them, but it can be done. I have good partners.”

“Partners? Like the Closets and the Subs?”

“Nah, those are co-workers,I mean partners. Hey, do you mind if I smoke?”

She was horrified, “Yes, actually I do. My father died from lung cancer. I cannot stand to be around it.”

“See? Partners. We work together, you and I. You tell me what you are scared of and I whisper it to you in the dark.”

“You use people’s fears against them? No wonder you are monsters.”

“Hey, now. Don’t come at me like that. Just because you are a non-scarer doesn’t give you the space to judge me in my world. You need to understand that scare-neutral might be scare-normative where you are living, but that doesn’t make me a monster.”

She sat back a bit in her chair, “Oh I am sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“See? Partners. I was with a social activist for a few months last summer. I learned a lot of tricks from her that I can apply in my work now.”

“Wow. Okay, what else do you use?”

“Mostly it’s like judo. I just take their momentum and work with it. Don’t fight the person you are working with, flow with them. Like what I said about the activist? The things I learned from her I can only use on a certain set of people. You have to be inclined toward caring what people think of you for that to work. Ironically it’s the people who are most kind that worry about being kind. If I used that on some dude who prides himself on his “I’ll never be PC” mantra, that wouldn’t work at all. BUT…whisper in the ear of that guy that he’s a failure at work? That people are talking about him behind his back. That they think he’s weak? Well he’s tossing and turning all night and I am just basking in the waves of fear coming off of him. If I’m really on my game I might get both him and his wife. She’s laying there wondering what that text he tried to hide from her said while he is afraid she saw that text he tried to hide from her. Or maybe I can get them both afraid that they are bad parents, or don’t have enough money, or aren’t attractive anymore. So many things to work with.”

“So what do you do with that fear?”

“It sustains me. The only thing that feeds fear is fear. I couldn’t exist otherwise. I make you afraid, you feed me. Partners.”

“Do all of you feed on fear?”

“Yes. We all do. And if you get a lot of us in one space then the cycle is pretty constant. Awake, almost asleep, asleep you are in a solid state of dread.”

“Give me an example of how that would work.”

“Say you’re sitting on the couch watching TV and you hear a noise from upstairs, but you know you are home alone. You get a little twinge of fear. Now you might tell yourself it’s just the house settling, but you know.”

“Well it is probably just the house settling.”

“You think? What a weird thing to think. I mean what does that mean anyway? The house is settling? It’s something your father probably told you when you were little and so you never questioned it. But for the house to settle it would have had to move during the day. And isn’t that even more frightening than realizing it’s an Upper taking a little walk in the attic, or maybe a DH pacing upstairs waiting for you to come up. Hoping that tonight is the night you don’t turn on the light, or the bulb burns out…”

“Ummm, are all of the Things that Go Bump in the Night subject to the same rules?

“The same rules? No, each division has their own rules.”

“So can some of them actually kill you?”

“Actually kill you or just scare you to death?”

“Is there a difference?”

“To an Under maybe, but to a Sub? Well, they walk a fine line.”

“Just the Subs?”

“Well all of us really. Given the chance there is no telling what we might do. Like right now your foot is uncovered…”

She woke with a start. A cool breeze playing against her uncovered leg. She shivered and pulled it under the blanket. Then decided to go ahead and pull the blanket over her head. Just in case. She tried to not hear the soft laughter coming from under her bed…

Quiz Show...

“Samantha. Come in. Sit down.”

Sam settled in to the chair across the desk from her boss. Well, the boss of her boss actually. She had been bumped up the chain of command this morning.

“I assume you know why you are here today?”

Sam started to answer but realized it was actually a rhetorical question when Ms. Averson kept talking.

“I want to read a few things to you. ‘You are highly capable and strong. Your friends look to you for solid answers in times of chaos.’ Here is another: ‘You are mysterious and deep. You don’t let people in very often but once you do you are committed to them for life.’ Do these sound familiar?”

Sam waited again.

“Do they sound familiar?”

Oh, okay, this time she was supposed to answer, “Yes. They are examples from the quiz handbook.”

“Not just examples, Samantha. Templates. You have 8 standard templates you are to work from, Samantha. And each of those 8 templates has 6 variations. Now I want you to listen to these: ‘Your lack of perspective is astounding. There are billions of stars in the galaxy and even the ones that are already dead shine brighter than you.’ And this one, ‘Your over inflated sense of self worth is off putting to your friends and acquaintances alike. Pretend to get lost. See how many people notice. It won’t be as many as you think. It will be two. Only two.’ Do these sound familiar?”

“Yes. They are answers to the “What do People Really Think of You?” quiz.”

“Now, do those answers sound ANYTHING like the other ones I read?”

“No.”

“Then why were they possible outcomes on your quiz?”

“Well, because that’s what the result was.”

“That is my point. They should not have been the result. How did they become the result?”

“Because that’s how people answered the questions.”

Ms. Averson closed her eyes for a moment and rocked her head slowly from side to side. Sam could see she was feeling a little stressed. She should probably take the “What’s the Best Vacation Spot for You” quiz and head on out.

“Do you find this funny?”

“Excuse me?”

“I see you smiling over there. Do you think this is funny?”

Sam thought for a second. The answer was yes, absolutely. After all she had been hired to write “Scarily Accurate” quizzes and was being reprimanded for writing them too accurately. So yes, it was pretty funny. But she wasn’t stupid. She knew the expected answer was no, not at all. It was just very difficult for Sam to lie. She found it to be a waste of time. “I don’t think you think it’s funny.”

“You’re right. I don’t find this funny at all. We cannot release a quiz like this to the general public.”

“Why not? I mean, it’s not wrong. I think it could be the best work we’ve done.”

“It is absolutely not the best work we’ve done. It is nothing like what we do. You did this all on your own. This doesn’t follow our algorithms. It doesn’t follow our templates.”

“The math works. I used the quiz answers and the access they allowed to their Facebook profiles, and their friend’s lists, and what comes up when you Google them. It’s a very complex algorithm but it only takes a few seconds to process the results and I included that really cute cat animation to watch while it works if those few seconds seem too long.”

“I actually do like the cat animation.”

Sam smiled and started to go on…

“HOWEVER, you cannot have a quiz where a possible outcome is, ‘People think you are a pushover and take advantage of you at every turn. Nothing in your life so far disproves this theory. In fact, you should check your husbands texts tonight. You will be AMAZED at the results.’ This is not okay.”

“Well, that one is fairly rare.Okay, not as rare as I would have thought, but still it’s not the most common outcome.”

“Samantha, you cannot tell people their spouses are cheating on them through a quiz result.”

“Why not? They are taking a scarily accurate Facebook quiz where they want to know what people really think of them. This is a scarily accurate quiz that tells them just that.”

“That’s exactly it. People do not actually want to know what people think of them. That would be insane. They don’t want to know that the dog they would be is ‘abandoned’ they don’t want to know that if they were a color they would be ‘institutional green’ that isn’t why people take these quizzes, Samantha.”

So Ms. Averson had seen her previous work. Her father always said that it was good to make a name for yourself. Seems like Sam had.

“People take these quizzes to feel good about themselves. Every result we give them, every answer they see, there is always something that is positive. Always something general enough that it could apply to anyone, yet specific sounding. We aren’t in the business of telling people who they are, we are in the business of validating who people think they are. So you can see that we cannot use any of the quizzes you have designed. This really leaves us no choice….”

Sam knew then that she was being fired. Actually she had known when she was called to Ms. Averson’s office. If it were going to be just another suggestion that she be less accurate and more cut and paste he boss would have handled it. She had already started running down possible job leads in her head. She could always see if her cousin Jill knew of any openings.

“Samantha, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Averson. You were firing me?”

“Firing you? No, I was offering you a transfer.”

“A transfer? What else does QuizMasters.com do besides make quizzes.”

“QuizMasters.com is just one of our subsidiary companies. We are part of a much larger network. We have search engines, shopping sites, email servers (though those don’t get much use anymore), photo sharing sites, special interest bloggers. We really cover a wide range of on-line activity and we feel as though your talents will be better put to use someplace else.”

“I’m not much of a shopper.”

“No, Samantha, we don’t want to move you to another branch, we’d like to move you more toward the central company. Transfer you to headquarters. The algorithm you designed caught my eye and when I showed it to my boss, well, let’s just say she is very interested in your work.”

“So I’m not being fired?”

“No.”

“Hunh.”

“I would like to set up a second set of interviews for tomorrow.”

“Second set?”

“Why yes, this has been the first. We needed to see what you would say and how you would react when confronted with your work. You passed. Now we need to move along and see if you would be a good fit at headquarters. And if you are interested. I think you will be. The results you got here with limited data, very impressive. When you see what you would have access to there? Well…like I said, search engines, email servers, shopping sites, photo sharing, you get the idea. Are you interested?”

Sam thought about it. She didn’t have anything else to do right now so why not. “Sure.”

Ms. Averson picked up her phone and dialed her assistant, “Please book Samantha Green on the next shuttle to DC. Thank you.”

“Good luck, Samantha. And do you mind if I keep the cat animation?”

Untitled...

Thwack…Thwack…Thwack…the ball hit the brick wall over and over again.

“Could you please stop that?”

Thwack… Thwack….Thwack…throw, bounce, catch, throw, bounce, catch.

“I’m bored.”

Thwack…Thwack… Thwack…

“You wouldn’t be bored if you would stop that and let me think. I can’t think with that.”

Thwack… Thwack…Thwack…

“I let you think all morning. You didn’t do anything with it. Why would you start now?”

Thwack… Thwack…Thwack…

“STOP IT! Just stop it!”

“Fine…think.” she sneered.

She took a deep breath. Now she would be able to do something.

“How about you? What do you have to say?” She looked over to the corner.

“I don’t want to be here. I want to read. I’ve got three books waiting. Why do you need all of us to be here?”

“I need you all to be here to HELP me. I could use some help.”

She sighed, “Fine, but I have three books waiting.”

“OH my god! You have to see this! Seriously look at how funny this is!”

“It’s not going to be funny. You are just trying to distract me so she can slip out and read her books. I know you two too well.”

“Fine, but it was funny. Now you’ll never know.” She mouthed the word sorry toward the corner.

“I saw that! Did you think I wouldn’t see that?”

She rolled her eyes, “What ever…”

“There are cookies in the kitchen. We could go get cookies.”

“Don’t you start now! Anyway, you had cookies for lunch.”

“Yeah but there are more in the kitchen. And you know the sugar would help you think I bet.”

“No more cookies! Stop suggesting cookies.”

“How about chips?”

“Stop it. Go sit over there with her. You can talk about the cookies you want to eat while she talks about the books she wants to read.”

Thwack…Thwack…Thwack…

“WHAT DID I SAY?”

“Bored now…”

“I don’t care if you are bored now. Stop it with the ball or I will take it away and throw it outside!”

“OH! Are we going out? Let me get my shoes. Are we walking? Or hiking? Should I grab the camera? It’s a little chilly I should put on a sweatshirt. I really need some new sweaters. Maybe we should shop a little too. I have this really great website we could check super quick.”

“Stop it! No we aren’t going outside. No we aren’t shopping. I am thinking.”

She rolled her eyes, “Really? It looks like you are fighting with everyone else to me. A hike or some shopping would be better.”

“Thinking!”

“Fine!”

She looked toward the window, “Do you see anything out there?”

“Trees. The one still has leaves while the others are all bare.”

“Is that something you can work with?”

“Are you seriously trying to pawn this off on me?”

“I’m asking for some help. I just thought you know, dead trees might spark something rhymey.”

“Rhymey? You think that’s what I do? Just come up with rhymey words? Rhymey isn’t even a real word. You're being condescending.”

“Can you work with that? With condescending things?”

“The trees are as barren as your mind…how is that for a start then?”

“So that’s a yes? Could you stretch it a little maybe?”

“How fucking dare you! I cannot believe you would treat me like this!” And with that she stormed away.

Thwack…Thwack…Thwack… "You know she’s sensitive. You can’t really expect her just to perform for you after you insulted her like that.”

“STOP WITH THE FUCKING BALL! I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT!”

“Oh! Are we ranting?? I have rants I have just been storing up! Let’s go! Politics? Trigger Warnings? Safe Spaces? Tender hearts and soft brains? Let’s go!”

“No, sorry. We aren’t. Not today. Maybe if I could think for awhile you could. But I really need to get this done first. Do you have any help for me?”

“That’s not really my thing. I don’t deal with your stuff. I mean, I guess we could change the names to protect the innocent? But that’s not really what you’re looking for.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Hey.” A quiet voice came from behind her.

“What?”

“Did you want to go to the bar?”

“Don’t you think I tried that earlier? Nobody was there. I hung out for awhile but nobody showed up. I guess everyone took the holiday off.”

“How about the graveyard? Sometimes they are there.”

“I stopped by there too. Nobody. It’s just dead (no pun intended) quiet today.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, thanks. I guess it’s time to give it up.”

“Finally!”

Thwack…Thwack…Thwack….

Misfortune...

The gypsy lady told her that she would die young.

Her mother had tried to convince her that she had heard wrong. But that’s what she had said. “You will die young.”

She had only been 8 at the time. They had gone to the traveling carnival. One of those that you just don’t see anymore. Where they would pull in to town and set up shop for a few days in the parking lot of grocery store or K-Mart or someplace like that. A few rides. A few side show attractions. And a gypsy lady who told your fortune for a dollar.

Her mother thought it would be fun. She took her and her two sisters in and they all had their fortunes read. Her oldest sister, she was 12 and so very grown up, was going to be a famous dancer. She was pretty sure that the gypsy lady looked at the Cats t-shirt she was wearing and made a guess. It was a good one. Her sister loved to dance and her fortune made her very happy. Her middle sister was going to be an author. She would write books that would make people weep, and laugh, and think. She was pretty sure that they gypsy lady saw the ink smudge on her hand and the books in her bag and made a guess there too. But it made her sister very happy. Then it was her turn. She sat down at the round table in her tent. She could still picture the velvety table cloth. The gypsy lady took her hand. She gazed at her palm for a minute and then said, “You will die young.”

At that her mother had snatched her out of the chair. “How dare you, are you crazy? A curse!”

“You wanted their fortunes read, did you not? You paid me for this. Fortunes, not curses.”

Her mother hustled the girls back out of the gypsy lady’s tent. “What did she say?” Her oldest sister asked, “I didn’t hear her.”

“She didn’t say anything important. She was a big fraud and I am sorry that I thought it would be fun.”

Her middle sister said, “I don’t think she was a fraud. I am going to be an author. I think she was right.”

Her mother slapped her sister.

They were all shocked. Their parents had never hit any of them before.

Her sisters stared at their mother, mouths hanging open. Then her middle sister burst in to tears. From the shock as much as the sting.

“Oh, baby, I am so sorry. Mommy shouldn’t have done that. I am just so flustered. I am so sorry.”

Their mother gathered all three girls in to a big hug, “I am so sorry. I never should have done any of this.”

When her middle sister calmed down their mother packed them all in the car and they went to get ice cream.

When they got home their father was waiting. “I’m going to be a famous dancer!” Her sister announced.

“Of course you are, baby, you are very talented.” Their father was looking at their mother with a confused expression she was trying to signal something to him but he was not understanding her at all.

“Well I’m going to be an author. I am going to write great books.”

“I never doubted you for a second.” Their father ruffled her middle sister’s hair.

Before she could speak up her mother announced that it was time for everyone to get cleaned up and ready for bed. She shrugged to herself. There was no need to tell her father anyway. He would just worry.

After the girls had washed up and gotten in to their beds her mother came to her. “I am sorry I pulled you out of the gypsy’s tent like that. I misunderstood what she said and over reacted.”

“What do you think she said?”

“Well it’s just so silly now that I think about it. And even if it’s what she meant, then it’s not like it’s horrible.”

She gave her mother a puzzled look, “It’s not?”

“No. I mean your grandfather was a cook. You could be a fine chef.”

“A chef?”

“Why yes, I mean she did say you will fry tongue right? What else could that mean?”

“Fry tongue?”

“Yes. Fry Tongue. That’s what she said. And I thought she was being disrespectful somehow instead of just saying you would be a chef. You will fry tongue.”

“Mom, that doesn’t even make any sense.”

“It does. That’s what she said. You remember that.”

But that wasn’t what the gypsy had said. She knew that. Her mother knew it too. But she understood that they were never going to talk about it again. But she knew.

When her oldest sister was given the opportunity to dance with the American Ballet Theater at the young age of 16 she knew.

When her middle sister published her first novel at the age of 20 she knew.

She would die young.

It was freeing in a way. She tried everything. She lived her life knowing that soon it would be gone. If someone asked she said yes. She took a gap year after high school and traveled through Europe on a youth rail pass. Her sisters were shocked that their mother let her go. But her mother knew. Even though she tried very hard not to, she knew, and so she let her live.

When she returned home she went to college. She took every class that interested her. She didn’t worry about making them all fit in to a degree. She just sampled everything.

She lived fully. Everyone who met her talked about her spirit. “She is so free.” “She lives life to the max!”

And she did.

At her funeral everyone said, “She was so young. She never had a chance to live.”

But they were wrong. She might have died young. But while she was here she lived. Because she knew.

Her mother never stopped looking for roadside carnivals with old gypsy women.

Because now she knew too. It had never been a curse. It was a blessing.

Family...

As she entered the restaurant and walked toward their table he gave her an appraising look. She was stunning. Always had been, probably always would be. He stood up and kissed both of her cheeks, “Hello, love, you look good…for your age.”

She gave him a cold smile, “Oh thank you. And you look like you might still be able to get an erection with only minimal pharmacological help.”

“Look out, kitten’s got claws, rawr!”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were back in one of your animal phases…”

“Guys, please!” Their son pleaded for a moment where they weren’t at each other’s throats. “I didn’t ask you both here so you could fight. I need to talk to you.”

She leaned over and kissed her son’s cheek before sitting down shooting one more icy look at his father, “Of course, darling, what ever you need.”

He couldn’t really think of a way to ease in to this one so he just blurted out, “I’m getting married.”

Now he had their attention.

“Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“It’s what people do, Mother, they fall in love, they get married. It’s the normal cycle of things.”

His father cleared his throat, “It might be what other people do, but it isn’t what we do. Have you thought this through?”

“No, I just woke up this morning with this wacky idea in my head and decided to impulsively make a decision that would change my life forever.”

“There is no need to take that tone, darling, we are just concerned for you. This is so…unexpected.”

He shook his head. Of course his mother would see it as him taking tone with them. His parents were nothing if not predictable.

“Sorry, Mother. I understand you are both shocked. But I need you to understand that this is happening. I have already made the decision. I already asked her and she said yes. I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else before I had a chance to tell you myself. I also wanted you both to hear it at once. I am not going to have this conversation again after today.”

His father sat up very straight in his chair, trying to look his most intimidating, “Who is this woman? Do we know her people?”

“She doesn’t have people. She has a family. That’s what most people have, you know, families. That’s how we like to refer to them anyway.”

“Does she know who you are?”

“Of course she knows who I am, Father. Do you mean does she know who you and Mother are?”

“Well…yes….of course that is part of who you are.”

“She knows enough.”

His mother gave a wry smile then, “Enough? Really? So you are marrying her without giving her a chance to understand what exactly she is marrying in to?”

“Well technically, as far as the last word from Father, when I marry her there will be nothing left for her to marry in to as I will be cast out. Disinherited. Renounced. I believe the word forsworn was tossed about.”

She nodded then, “Oh yes, well, I guess that is true. But does she realize what you will be giving up to be with her?”

“More importantly, does she understand who you are. What you have accomplished in your life. What you have done? What you are giving up for her? For,” his father made a face and practically spit the word out, “Marriage?”

“She understands that my family is not big on the traditional,” with that both parents made disgusted noises, “traditional stance of marriage. And that I will be losing my inheritance and my place within the family by choosing to marry. She knows that she is the most important person in my world and as such I am willing to do this. And, honestly, I rarely see you guys anymore anyway. It’s not like we are getting together on the holidays or anything.”

“Whose choice is that? You know where we are. You know how to come to us. You choose to live in the valley. Other family is there. You were the one who decided to seek your own fortunes here.”

“And I’ve done well for myself.”

“Yes, darling, you have. But have you considered how this will affect your position with the pentagon?”

He shook his head confused, his mother never brought up his job. To work for money seemed like something she could not even comprehend. When he decided to give it a try, out of boredom more than anything else, she had viewed it as beneath him. “There are no regulations in place around marriage.”

His father looked at his mother and nodded, they were sharing some realization that he had not yet figured out. “There might not be regulations, but are you certain you will still be able to perform your job as well? Once you are married.”

“Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I? I don’t work 24/7. I have plenty of time for a social life.”

“But marriage…that changes a…man…like yourself.”

“Yes, darling, once you say those vows, well, you aren’t the same are you?”

He finally understood what they were telling him. The realization. The full weight of his decision. What they had grasped but he hadn’t. Dammit.

They were sure they were going to win now. They could see it play across his face. He hadn’t thought about what being disinherited really meant. After all, his job, his whole life was built around who he was, who they were. What that meant. Once he got married, once that was removed, would he have anything left? His family ties were stronger than he had realized.

“Ares, darling, we aren’t trying to insist that you leave the mortals alone, your father doesn’t have a leg to stand on there, but you cannot marry them and remain one of us. Once you take that step you will no longer be Ares God of War, you will be…well…one of them.”

“Hera’s right, son. We just want you to understand the full ramifications of this decision. And I would imagine that your human love would never really understand your relationship with your sisters.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Z, they all are watching Game of Thrones these days, it’s not so shocking as it was when we first had children.”

And with that his parents shared their first genuine laugh of the night.

Ares shook his head, he hadn’t told Marisol that he had children from previous relationships, after all that was ages ago, they were all grown and living their own lives now. Or that some of those relationships were with his sisters. Or that really where he was from it wasn’t all that big of deal. He had been avoiding the fight. Oh blast. The changes were already starting. Avoiding the fight? He was the fight. What had he been thinking?

“Well, darling, if that is all, should we order now, I really do need to attend to some other things, and I’m sure your father has…well…whatever he does these days.”

Zeus laughed. “Always so dismissive. But you really do look lovely, my dear, have you been bathing in the blood of virgins?”

“You know as well as I do that that was never really a thing. Nobody ever used the blood of virgins for anything. It was just something Eros said to convince women to sleep with him. He’s a bit of a cad, like his grandfather you know.”

Ares’ vision clouded. Eros. “A cad like Father and a prankster like you, Mother?”

Seeing the twinkle in her eye Ares knew for sure that he had been had. His mother and his son had teamed up to play a prank on him. Just the sort of thing they would find amusing. Thank the gods he hadn’t married Marisol before speaking with his parents. And curse the gods for whiling away the ages playing these ridiculous tricks on each other and on the mortals they viewed as beneath them.

“Oh, darling, don’t be mad, you’ve been so busy lately that we thought a little dalliance would do you some good. And then well, the thought of the God of War falling for a mortal woman? And one who considers herself a pacifist? Oh, darling, how could we not? But don’t worry, mummy will take care of Marisol’s memory so she won’t be heartbroken over you. You will just be a fond memory.”

“I could help with that…” Zeus started.

“NO!” They both shouted at once.

“I didn’t mean like that…” Zeus tried to plead innocent but one look from Hera and he knew he couldn’t get away with it, “Okay, I did. But it works.”

Hera rolled her eyes and sighed, “Gods.”

Ares cast a dark look toward his mother, “Goddesses too.” And with that he turned on his heel and left his parents sitting at the table.

Hera watched him storm out of the restaurant, “Well I thought it was funny.” And with that Hera also left.

Zeus realized his ex and his son had left him to foot the bill. Typical. After doing a quick quick in his wallet to make sure he had more than drachma with him he signaled their waiter back over to the table, “Ouzo for everyone! My son’s not getting married!”

Dirt...

“Did you bury him well?”

“He’s buried. That’s enough.”

“It’s not enough. You have to bury him well.”

“We dug the hole. We put him in. We covered him up. We said the words. That’s enough.”

“You better hope so.”

He opened his eyes. Dirt in his face. Now dirt in his eyes. He tried to wipe his face and couldn’t move his arms. Wiggling his fingers he felt it now. Dirt. Dirt surrounding him. Buried. Again. But had they buried him well?

“How long has it been?”

“Stop worrying. He’s done. We dug the hole, we put him in, we covered him up, we said the words. It’s been weeks. He’s not coming. It was enough.”

“I will always worry.”

He could stretch now. Fingers working through the dirt. Loosening it. Moving it. He could feel the worms around him. He welcomed their presence. It meant the dirt wasn’t packed firm. If the worms could work it so could he.

“Do you think we should go look and make sure everything is still well?”

“No. I think you should stop worrying. You need to move on. What is the point of burying him if you just keep trying to dig him back up?”

“Don’t say such things. Nobody should dig him up. That wouldn’t be advisable.”

“Metaphorically. It was a metaphor. He’s buried. We dug the hole, we put him in, we covered him up, we said the words.”

It was raining. He could feel the moisture on his face. Now was the tricky part. He needed to move the mud before it settled down on him more solidly. He could shift his shoulders now. Water easing under his back. Yes.

“I dreamed that he came back.”

“Because you keep bringing him back. Let him stay buried.”

“That’s what I hope. Let him stay buried.”

There were deer above him. He could hear them sniffing at the earth. He willed them to paw the dirt. To move it for a better, stronger scent. They stopped. Then they ran.

“You dug the hole, you put him in, you covered him up, you said the words.”

“Yes, how many times do you need to hear from me?”

“The dreams are every night now. He is restless.”

He could feel the sunshine. For the first time in months there was warmth on his face. Inches. Just inches now. Fingers stretching, pulling the dirt down, shoulders shifting, raising up. Inches.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last week? The week before? I don’t know. I can’t. He is there. Waiting.”

“For the last time, we dug the hole, we put him in, we covered him up, we said the words.”

He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Finally able to breath free. No dirt in his nose. No grit in his teeth. He smiled. It was a fearful thing to see.

“No! They dug the hole! They put you in! They covered you up! They said the words! You were buried well!”

“I was buried well. But I was not buried deep…”