Stephen’s Ghost


This past weekend in Los Angeles, a Zine came out called “The Worlds Tallest Tales” by ITSWOLF. Within this sleek booklet is a 500 word story that I wrote specifically for this publication. A Big thank you to a former student, Renee Reizman for talking me into do this.

Without further ado…

It’s a hot Saturday afternoon and the block is unusually quiet. My cousin and I are spending another slow summer day wishing high school never starts up again. We’re sitting on the stoop enjoying the summer breeze while eating ham & cheese heroes, and drinking malta since there’s no AC in the house. My father thinks that living in a house without air conditioning builds character. I think he doesn’t want to give Con-Ed any more money than he has to, otherwise we’d be in my room playing yet another game of Contra on my Nintendo.

Our house sits on the corner of Gildersleeve, so our stoop overlooks much of this area. Our neighborhood is a nine block radius connected by Gildersleeve that starts from Pugsley Creek and ends at Harding Park.

We see my buddy Stephen and his two sisters walking down the block abnormally fast. I call out to him before he can pass my house. They look totally spooked, so I walk down the stairs to stop them.

“Hey man, you look bugged out,” I say as I look at them. The girls look like they want to cry. My cousin comes up behind me because he’s as curious as I am.

“Oh man, we just came from Kirk’s house. You won’t believe what happened,” Stephen says. His voice sounds a bit shaky. Kirk is one of the kids we hang out with, he lives right up the street on Gildersleeve.

“So what’s up with Kirk?”

“He invited us over so we can play with his Ouija board.”

“Well, why the hell would you do that?”

“I don’t know! He said we could talk to this friendly ghost in his house, so I felt compelled. I didn’t believe him at first, but then we started playing around and asking questions. Everything was cool until the lights flickered. Then the only word the board started spelling was, die!”

“Holy shit,” I say looking at my cousin.

“The friendly ghost took over and said he would get rid of the evil spirit tonight. He said when you hear a loud bang, you know the deed is done.”

“Get the fuck outta here. I don’t believe that,” I say.

I’m a little freaked out, but I know this isn’t real. We watch Stephen and the girls walk away. My cousin and I laugh, then go inside the house to play Contra.

Hours later we’re on the stoop again, eating ice cream cones from Mr. Softee when we hear a loud blast coming from the direction of Kirk’s house. My cousin looks at me, wide eyed.

“You don’t think…?” He asks.

We walk slowly down the stairs and then up the block when we see it, a raging inferno coming from Kirk’s house. I’m paralyzed with fear, not knowing what to do. It must’ve been an explosion!

I hear Stephen walk up behind us. He stares at the fire and smiles. He says, calmly in a deeper voice, “The deed is done.”


Too see other stories I’ve written, please check out my Goodreads page.

Late For Work – A Short Story


I hate being late for work, but once again this damn train is delayed.

It’s bad enough that I have to take a bus just to get to a train that is always jammed packed, but how many sick passengers occur in an a given week? Not even hearing Jay Z in my headphones could hide the sheer frustration of this strap hanger.

It’s not that I don’t plan my time well. I always catch BX.39 early enough to catch the express 6 train in Parkchester that takes me to 125th street where I catch the downtown 4 train. As always, it’s packed with people going to work and school and I normally find myself in near prayer just make it to work on time.

However, today I could care less. While I hate being late for work, I cannot stand my job and I spent the majority of last night typing my resignation letter. I feel very fortunate to have found another job on the Upper East Side. I just cannot wait to finally hand this in to my boss but, of course, the train had to be delayed for 30 minutes.

What makes it worse is that I have get off at Wall St which makes this Bronx to Manhattan commute a nightmare. I race up the subway stairs once my train finally arrives. It is already 8:45 and I have a meeting at 9am that I now need to rush for.

Wait. What was that noise? I look up.

Oh. My. God.

Why is the World Trade Center on fire?


This is a story I wrote a few years ago that I thought I lost. I found it while searching for something else a few months back. I edited it yesterday. I wanted to contribute something to this day that is still fresh in my memory. 

Short Story: The House

This whole day has been a blur. I’m not entirely sure how I got here. I have spent my entire life doing the right things like supporting my family, working long hard hours on the job, and going to church every Sunday. Even with all this, I managed to lose it all. Now I am in the one place that I never thought I would be, a jail cell.
A small town jail cell that looks nothing like what we see on television. They never talk about the smell on Barney Miller. This stale moist smell as if someone barely cleaned the urine from the floor. I just stare at this stone floor because I don’t want to look up. I don’t want to see the other people who may be here. These are the people I thought I would never be in the room with, much less sharing a prison.
I cannot help the tears from my eyes. I lost everything that defines me and all I was trying to do was stay one step ahead of this marriage.  Marcia! I can’t event think about what has happen between us. As much as I try to bury my head in between my hands, I will never be able to hide from myself.
All I wanted to do was to get rid of this house! This god-forsaken house that we bought 5 years ago thinking that it could be our summer cottage, when in reality, it became the bane of my existence. A virtual money pit that seemed to turn my marriage upside down, I only blame myself for all of this. It was my idea to buy it. I wanted to have a place that Marcia and I can spend time away from everything and everyone.
It was no secret that our marriage was in trouble even then.  I thought that the incredible amounts of money I brought home every paycheck would have kept her happy. I was a true company guy. When there was a conference to go to, I was there. When clients needed to be entertained, I was the one to make sure they were taken care of. I was good at my job and I loved every minute of it. But, I knew that I was barely home and she missed me (or so I thought).
This house was my solution to our marriage. I figured we could spend quality time together and reinvigorate the passion we once had. I thought she would be surprised when I told her I bought it, but something didn’t sit well with me about her reaction. I thought she would be happy but she complained about the money and not including her in the decision. Hide sight being 20/20, she was right. Had I knew then what I know now, I would have realized that my marriage was already over.
I knew the house was going to be something that needed to be fixed. I thought we could do that as a family. Andrew, my dear son (I can only imagine what he thinks of me now), would have helped us.  But, things just fell apart just about a year after I bought that house. I lost my job. The company I worked for was one of those places that people love to talk about. When ‘we’ received a bailout, it didn’t mean ‘me’ or ‘us’. I was laid off like thousands of people.
I could not find a job and had two mortgages. Marcia, who was a stay at home mother, could not stand my presence. Always agitated that I didn’t have a job and the money we saved was evaporating quickly. The house would always be brought up and became a wedge between us. I didn’t tell her that I knew the real reason she was angry with me being home all the time. I found out a week after I got laid off that she was fucking my co-worker, Jeff.  I woke up late one morning while she was out on her run. She left her phone on the kitchen table. I had no intention on looking through her phone but when she got a text message, out of habit I just looked at the screen. He texted her about possibly meeting that weekend, I was stunned.
I looked through rest of her messages hoping and praying I was wrong. There were hundreds of messages, dirty messages. I felt numb. Maybe it was the depression of losing my job but I simply left to work on that house. I had this idea that I would spend the rest of what we had to fix it up. I worked on the house everyday and she hated me for it. I did look for a job when she wasn’t around, I would send resumes out as often as I could. I had a few interviews here and there, but it turns out they were not hiring a man in his mid 40’s with tons of experience.
I spent four years fixing that house to what I wanted it to be. I replaced the roof. I rebuilt the chimney and replaced all the windows. I installed a brand new furnace and redid that entire kitchen myself. All the while, my beautiful wife of fourteen years was committing adultery. This was going to be the house I lived in. I was going to leave her when I was ready, when I finally got a job. Of course she had no problem finding a job.  
Sure, we had many fights during these past few years but we decided to stay together for Andrew’s sake. He is a freshman at Syracuse University and we didn’t want him to worry about us. Thank god he is such a smart kid. He was awarded a full academic scholarship. He is majoring in Forensic Science.
Yesterday I found out I got a job. Nothing spectacular, but it is a second chance. I would be able to finally handle things and eventually start the divorce process. I went to that house to install some light fixtures in the living room when I saw it, a small earring on the futon. She had been there! I left a spare set of keys with Andrew but he is away at college. She must have gotten them from his room. Why would she be here?
I was so angry. I will not let her take this way from me! I cannot have her screwing this man in my house. I worked too hard for this. So, I plotted to do the only thing I could do.
I walked out onto the deck and grabbed the bottle of lighter fluid that I used for the brand new charcoal grill I bought. I sprayed lighter fluid everywhere. I was not going to let this woman do this to me. I am not going to live in another place where she has fucked her lover. I just had this house appraised and I will just collect the insurance on it.  I empty the bottle and jump into my car. I have every intention on lighting this house in the morning while she on her morning run.
The drive is a good 40 minutes coming and going. I wipe the bottle clean and put in the trunk of her car. She will get blamed for arson and I will be free of her. Divorce will be an easy thing after that.
I woke up early this morning from my peaceful slumber on the couch and I noticed that her car is gone. Today is Saturday and it is way too early for Marcia to go for her run. There is a knock on the door. I open it and there is the County Sheriff. “Mr. Stephens?” he asks. I nod my head and ask him what is going on. “There has been a fire and I am afraid we found your wife…and another gentlemen, dead”
The rest of today was a blur. I was arrested for suspicion of Arson. They take me in for preliminary questioning. Where were you last night? I was home. Did you know your wife was committing Adultery? I had no idea, officer! The fire department found traces of lighter fluid all over the house, how do you suppose that got there? My wife was jealous that I spent all my time and our money fixing up the house. I have no idea how it got there. I just finished renovating it.
My day was spent answering question after question. It was pretty much over for me. I begin to sob and say how I cannot believe my wife is dead much less that she had a lover! The tears were real, but my words weren’t. This was the first time I admitted to myself that Marcia really did not love me. But, now what? I’m not even sure how the fire started!
So, now I sit here waiting for my fate. I never asked for a lawyer because, technically, I really didn’t set that fire. I hear the jail cell open. “Mr. Stephens, you are free to go. The evidence shows that your wife died trying to set the fire. We found that a cigarette was the initial cause of the blaze. Did your wife smoke?”
Marcia was never a smoker and neither was Jeff. “Yes, my wife smoked. It was a nasty habit.” I walk out of that jailhouse knowing that I have lied for the final time.
The only person I know who smoked, was Andrew. 

So, That book…

There comes a point in every person’s life in which they have to either shit or get off the pot. This is a saying that I first heard from my father. I can relate it to the fact that we need to get off the fence and make a decision. For me, I can talk all day about starting something and never doing it or starting something and never finishing it. I think this blog has been a great way for me to advance my writing and I have worked so very hard on editing and make all my posts be as close to perfect as possible. This year, I even went in another direction with my poetry. But, the time as come for me to get this book started.

The reasons that have stopped me have been completely irrelevant because they are all excuses. I could come up with anything that would stop me and it would just be an excuse. So, I will simply say that the main reason has been fear. I think there is a fear that I will not be able to finish it, a fear that it wont be good enough, a fear that even if it is a great book, will I be able to write another one? Again, these are all excuses that I create because success and change can be scary things.

Several people have helped me realize that I need to just do it. They know who they are and when it is all completed I will make sure that I dedicate this first book to those who few people who really believe in my ability. I am not talking about the normal conversation in where I say I am going to write a book and they tell me they want a copy. I am talking about helping me to understand the idea of character development and outlining a book.

So, instead of recreating the wheel, I have decided to expand a short story and build a novel around it. It has taken me a few weeks to get the point that I am right now. I have reshaped the way I want this story to go and have outlined the first six chapters. More importantly, I have started chapter 1 and I think I may be almost done with it. Now, I am a firm believer in constant edits so what I have now will not be what I have a few weeks from now.

For those who may have been reading this blog for awhile may recognize this story. It is called the Angel of Death and I wrote it one night about 2 years ago. I posted the short story last year on this blog and it is very raw. There are typos in it that I now recognize. I have taken that basic shell and expanded it. I feel very confident that I can get a a really good story out of all of this.

There have been other books that I had ideas about. One involving Afro-Latinos and the other my book of poems. I think I can still do what I need to do in regards to my other ideas, but I need to have a real book under my belt. I need to prove to myself that I can do this.

The premise is simple: A woman struggles with the search of the meaning to her nightmares of an Angel of Death that takes the lives of real people. Is she a medium that has been ignoring her gift or is it something more? This novel will delve into the life of a woman who’s past may reveal that we all truly pay for the sins of our parents…

So this is what has been really keeping me busy outside of work and the job search…

Call Your Mother: A Play

Last week I mentioned that I wrote a screenplay of sorts to transfer schools. Well I am dusting off this thing so it can see the light of day, otherwise no one will really read it. As I have done it the past, I have posted a story in which I wrote and I am once again doing it here. It will not take long to read. I wrote this when I was 19. Let me know what you think. Enjoy.

Call Your Mother
Philip………………….son of Carlos
Carlos…………………father of Philip
Elizabeth (Liz)………..girlfriend of Carlos, mother of Jason
Jason………………….Philip’s cousin
Julie…………………..Jason’s girlfriend
Sonia………………….mother of Philip
Based on a true story.
This is dedicated to my grandfather. Rest in Peace Abuelito

It is May of a given year. This story takes place in the Bronx. Philip has come home with his cousin Jason, from college. Carlos and Elizabeth await them. The door opens and Philip walks in. He is carrying a duffle bag and a suitcase. He puts down both bags as soon as he walks in

Philip: Honey, I’m home! (with a smile on his face)

Carlos: (walks towards him, with Liz, from the kitchen) Who are you callin’ honey, bitch?

Liz: Carlos! (she punches him, lightly, in the arm and he laughs)

Philip: (sarcastically) Gee, you’re a sight for sore eyes.

Carlos and Liz hug Philip

Carlos: God, we missed you. So where’s the rest of your stuff?

Philip: In Julie’s car.

Liz: (surprised) She brought you?

Carlos: I thought you were taking the bus? (he and Liz look out the window.)

Philip: Well, I was, but Julie decided to swing around this way to drop off me and Jay.

Carlos: (looks at Philip) “Swing Around?” She lives in Main.

Philip: Hey, a free ride is a free ride.

Jason: (walks in carrying a box) Hey!

Liz: Hi! (Jason puts down the box next to the bag. He hugs Liz and shakes Carlos’ hand)

Carlos: What’s up? (he looks towards Philip) Do you have more stuff?

Philip: Uhh…(looks at what has been brought in) yeah, two boxes and a bag (looks out the door). Here comes Julie with the bag now.

They walk outside toward the car.

Liz: (looks at Jason as if she was examining him for anything wrong or out of place) Well how was the ride?

Philip: It was okay.

Liz: Are you ok?

Jason: I am fine. (a little defensive) Why, is there something wrong with the way I look?

Liz: No, well except for being a little thinner, no. So how long are you staying?

Jason: (confused) What do you mean?

Liz: You know what I mean. When she leaves for Maine are you going with her?

Jason: (unsure) I don’t know.

Liz: (anxious) What do you mean, you don’t know?

Julie walks in carrying a suitcase.

Julie: Hello! (smiling and cheerful)

Liz: How are you? (they hug)

Julie: I’m good, you?

Liz: Great, everything’s great. (she looks at Jason)

Carlos walks in with a box. Then Philip walks in with another. They put the boxes down.

Carlos: Well, those were the last two.

Philip: (relieved) Thank God I put the rest of my stuff in storage.

Carlos: Do you need help taking these upstairs?

Philip: Nah, I got it.

Liz: (to Jason) So what are you going to do now?

Jason: I think we are going to go home and unpack my stuff.

Philip takes one suitcase and the duffle bag upstairs.

Carlos: I’m cooking if you want to eat here later.

Julie: Okay. (she smiles and looks at Jason)

Jason: I’ll see you later then. (he kissed Liz) Bye.

Liz: Bye, que dios te bendiga. Bye Julie.

Julie: Bye Liz, bye Carlos. (she waves)

Philip comes down the stairs.

Carlos: Okay, bye

Philip: Later, yo.

Jason: Later. (Julie waves to Philip)

Jason and Julie leave. They go to the car and drive off. Meanwhile, Philip picks up a box and goes upstairs.

Carlos: So what did he say? (closes the door)

Liz: He said, he did not know. (they begin to walk toward the kitchen)

Carlos: I think he does know, but doesn’t want to tell you. She can’t be alone without him.

Liz: Carlos…(she sits down)

Carlos: She comes all the way down from Syracuse, drops off Phil then drives Jason home. (he walk toward the stove)

Liz: What are you getting at?

Carlos: (opens a pot on the stove) What I am getting at is, (he picks up a spoon on the side an puts in the pot and begins to stir) that Maine is very far from here. She is going to stay in your house (puts the spoon down and covers the pot) for a week. Then she is going to leave with him. (he opens another pot)

Liz: I know, but what am I going to do about it?

Carlos: Good Question. (recovers pot) If it were up to me, I would call him up and tell him to send the white bitch home.

Fade out.

Fade in. Kitchen. Two Hours later. Carlos calls Philip for dinner.

Philip: (walks in) What’s for dinner?

Carlos: Dog Food. (he is putting food on a plate)

Philip: Really? Can’t be any worse than the dining halls.

Liz: Were you on the phone?

Philip: Yup.

Liz: Did Jason call?

Philip: Nope. (sits down)

Carlos: Who were you on the phone with? (puts the plate of food in front of Philip)

Philip: Mike. (picks up a fork and starts eating)

Carlos: So you didn’t call your mother? (walks to the cabinet and takes out another plate)

Philip: No…why, should I?

Liz: Yes you should. One day, ‘God forbid’, something may happen to your mother or someone in your family, you are going to regret that you did not call and reconcile. Now, are you going to call her? (Carlos puts food on a plate and gives it to Liz)

Philip: Maybe, if I feel like it.

Liz: That’s a nice attitude. (she sits down)

Carlos: I wonder where he gets it from. (Carlos gets another plate from the cabinet. He puts food on the plate.)

Liz: Heh, I wonder. (she looks at Carlos and smiles)

Carlos: (puts all the covers on the pots, takes his plate and sits down) How’s the food?

Philip: Its pretty good for Dog chow. (Liz laughs)

Carlos: (Sarcastically) I’m glad you like it. (Serious) Look…you don’t have to call your mother if you don’t want to. If she wants to talk to or see you, she should call you.

Liz: (shakes her head) That’s not right. You should call you mother to show her that you are the better person than she is.

Carlos: NO! (slams his fist on the table) She has not done shit for him. I’m the one paying for his tuition. (to Philip) She is the one who disowned you remember?

Philip: (reluctantly) Yeah, I remember.

Carlos: (calmer) Look, do what you want, she is your mother. You know how I feel.

The phone rings.
Carlos gets up and answers it.

Carlos: Hello. (looks at Liz) It’s your son. (Liz gets up and he give her the phone)

Liz: I thought you were coming over?

Jason: We changed our minds.

Liz: Really? You changed your mind.

Jason: Yeah, we went out to eat.

Liz: (annoyed) Oh, and you are telling me now?

Jason: It was a last minute decision.

Liz: A decision on whose part? Yours? Or hers?

Jason: (shocked) I can’t believe you just asked me that.

Liz: And I can’t believe you went out without telling me!

Jason: Without telling you? I am 19 years old and I have to tell you where I am?

Liz: Yes. It is your first day back and I wanted to see you. But, instead, your spend time with a woman who had been with you since you were a freshman! You are very ungrateful and inconsiderate! (raising her voice) I am your mother and I come first! (Philip looks at Liz and begins to think)

Jason: (upset) Fine, she is leaving tomorrow anyway. I will be with you all summer.

Liz: Oh, is that right? Where is she now?

Jason: In the shower.

Liz: We will discuss this later. Goodbye.

Jason: Yeah, Goodbye. (she hangs up)

Carlos: What happened?

Liz: (upset) He went out to eat with Julie. Then he said that she is leaving tomorrow and that he has all summer to spend with me. (Philip gets up)
Carlos: Where you going?

Philip: (distraught) I need time to think.

Fade out.

Fade in. One Hour Later. Philip calls his mother from the phone in his room.

Philip: (Nervous) Hello.

Sonia: (Surprised) Well, Hello.

Philip: (After an uncomfortable silence) Look, I was wondering if you could give me abuelito’s nursing home address.

Sonia: (sounds as if she has been crying) I wish I could.

Philip: What do you mean? (after a pause) Oh no….!

Sonia: Yes, He passed away this morning.

Philip: (crying) N-no! That is not fair, I was going to see him tomorrow. Oh my god, nooo.

Sonia: It’s your fault he died.

Philip: (shocked) What???

Sonia: Yes…and you know it is. If you had just visited him once, he would not have felt neglected; maybe he would still be alive.

Philip: NOOO! How can you say that? (Carlos comes running into the room as Philip slams the phone down)

Carlos: Que paso? What happened?

Philip: My grandfather is dead and it is all my fault!

Fade out.

Are All of us Really Saved?

Looking at the short story that I posted yesterday, I had to sit back and really think about the themes that are in this story. I will first point out that this story came to me one night last October. I was literally in the shower thinking about this. When I came out, I need to find some paper and a pencil and write this down. I wrote down everything I imaged for about 20 minutes straight. This final product then took several hours before I was somewhat satisfied with it.

It made me think about what exactly am I trying to say with this story. I went to Catholic school for 12 years, so I very much believe in all the religious archetypes. What I find interesting is how I chose the main character, Margret, to be bi-sexual. I say that because she is the one that witnesses this “angel of death”. Of course, in being a Christian, we are taught that homosexuality is an aberration. This type of lifestyle goes against everything that is God and is course…a sin.

Being that we are all born with Original Sin, God sent his only son, Jesus to save us all. With him dying on the cross we would all be freed from sin. So, if indeed this is the case, wouldn’t that mean that Jesus (who loves all of us) also died for the sins of Homosexuals as well? I am not sure the answer to this question. But, I do know that we are quick to judge people.

I do not think that I am done with this particular story, so I am not sure that I even know what the story means. I will just say is the Margret does believe in God. Perhaps she was to bear witness as a part of feeling guilty that perhaps she is the aberration in society and not the homeless man…

Short Story: Angel of Death

Today was a good day! I guest blogged on Brookey’s Cafe Blog today. I think you should check that out! So, because I have done so much writing over the last 24 hours I figured I would share with you a short story I wrote in October 2008. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Margret didn’t sleep much. Her dreams terrified her. Her dreams were too vivid and way too real for her to deal with. What really gets her the most is that she has never starred in her own dreams. She’s never had a dream that she could remember that had anything to with her or anyone in her life. Margret sought explanations and interpretations of her dreams in books and on the internet, but has had no luck in explaining why her dreams were happening. She didn’t tell many people of her dream problem. In fact she told many of her co-workers that she suffered from insomnia. Margret could never share with anyone that in her dreams she witnesses people die.

Every night she would fight sleep. Every night she would fail. Margret felt that every night she was witness to the angle of death. Tonight was no different. She lay in her bed watching her medium sized color television. Margret would try to watch different things to keep herself awake. She was not a sports fan so that never worked. Movies were ok, but she had a limited DVD collection and cable was a little bit too expensive for her liking. Porn, however, seem to work the best. It would keep up her interest. Tonight’s feature was a girl on girl.

Margret has always been bi-curious and loves to watch women have sex with each other. While watching this turned her on so much, the exhaustion of not getting enough rest was getting to her. She would purposely not sleep naked on a hot day like today so that she would be uncomfortable. Wearing pajamas and having a blanket on the bed should be enough for not to fall asleep very easily. However, she was finding herself being too turned on by the movie. It has been a while since she has slept with anyone. So there is no surprise that she would slowly move her had down her pelvis and lightly grazing her pubic hair. Margret lightly massaged herself which gave her gave her sensations she longed someone else to give her. This made her relax so much that she never realized the exact moment she fell asleep.

She looks up and finds herself in a dark alley. It is a very damp and dingy place. The smell of Rat shit is overwhelming. Margret covers her mouth as she begins to look around. She is still in the same pajamas she fell asleep in. She notices garbage on the ground as she slowly approaches a dumpster. She looks to her left and she sees an old homeless man asleep in a small piece of cardboard. Behind him is a shopping cart filled with various things that she cannot make out. Margret can tell that old man is shivering. She begins to kneel down to see if he is ok when a flash of red light shine behind her. She stands up quickly almost frozen in fear. She already knows what is about to happen. She recognized the soft hum and feels a slight breeze. She turns around slowly to a figure that has been all too familiar to her. Her reaction is always the same. Fear.

The bright red light and the source of the low hum is coming from a sword of blazing fire. She is transfixed on just the sight of the sword alone. Margret can also feel the heat that it generates. Holding the sword is a being with jet black skin. A tall male figure with a pristine physique is looking down at the ground and she cannot see his face because his long brownish hair is covering it. She begins to also look and the ivory wings attached to the back of this angel. The sight of the sword and the angelic nature of the wings almost make him look beautiful. Then he lifts up his head quickly and opens his pupil less eyes. Margret shutters in fear to look in to his face that is a cold as a glacier.

Margret’s first reaction, as always, is to run for cover. She finds shelter behind the dumpster as the angel floats towards the old man. The man becomes restless in his sleep and she can hear the hum of the angelic weapon become louder. The angel then begins to speak a language that is not recognizable. The old man is jumps out of his sleep to see this being in front of him. He just stares at the sword and tries to back way but is frozen by the sheer horror of what is in front of him. The old man does the sign of the cross and in one swift move is picked by his neck by the winged being.

The old man begs for his life has he grabs on the arm that raised him. The Angel just looks at him and again says something in a foreign language that almost sounds chant like. Then he draws his sword back and split the old man in too. Margret watches in horror as the old man’s lower portion of his body hits the floor. The old man let out a shriek but it fade quickly as the old man dies instantly with a look of pure horror an pain on his face. The sword of fire is so hot that there is very little blog coming from the 2 halves. The angel lets go of the man and his torso drops to the pavement.

The winged being turns to Margret and smirks. She wakes up in a cold sweat, almost wanting to scream. It is morning and the television is still on with the screen being the color blue. She begins to cry as she does every morning when she has this dream. It is always the same dream. The only things that ever change are the location and the person getting the sword. Margret looks over at the clock to see her alarm is set to go off in 10 minutes. She wipes her tears away and turns the morning news on. She gets out of her clothes and heads toward the bathroom for a shower. Just as she closes the door, the news anchor reads a report about a body that was found in a ally just down the street.