Where Did the Moon Go?

 I had never been so lost, and of all the places to be lost… the suburbs? A true forest, a true city, either would do. You can prowl urban sprawl as easily as the wild. But this? Far too civilized.

Leave it to that crazy cousin Vinny to give me bad information. I couldn’t even get a good view of the moon. One night I even caught myself howling at a street lamp. If anyone saw me I’d never live it down. 

I got bitten almost a year ago, and I’ve been on the run since. Me and my buddies were out drinking outside of a small town where I grew up. Someone came up with the fool idea of tryin’ to put down the crazy old mutt that the Rileys owned, but we were all scared of old man Riley and his shotgun. For good reason too. The old man was nearly blind but he was so trigger happy that the Sheriff’s office had been up there maybe half a dozen times to tell him to lay off. The mutt was mean as the devil to everyone but him. So we took it upon ourselves to do a public service, drunk as we were, sometime after midnight.

Wouldn’t you know they all chickened out and wanted me to go. I was just about to tell them off, even with a pool of green on it, but then they made it a point of honor. Fool that I am, I couldn’t walk away after that. 

Funny thing is, if I had believed in all that supernatural voodoo about witches and ghosts and demons, I never woulda gone. But at the time, didn’t feel I had any reason to. No sir, no full moon or tales of beyond would have given me pause. And so I went.

And yet, when I finally got my nerve and arrived at the top of the hill, the old man was passed out drunker then we was. Problem solved right? All I had to do was hold the gun straight for two seconds and do the deed. But no sir, that wasn’t in the cards that night. It was only then I realized how quiet it was. Old mutt should’ve been barking up a storm, with me so close and smelling so loud. Yet silence. Then I catch the faintest growl, more of a plea then a threat. 

This was beginning to shake my drunken nerves. Still, like a fool I pressed forward, my curiosity unshakable. Closer I crept, till I was on his porch. A bottle of Jim on the table, his snoring body collapsed on a rocking chair. He still clutched the shotgun. Gently I approached. Gentler still uncocking the hammer. Open clicked the chamber door. I barely breathed as I shakily withdrew the shells and snapped the chamber shut.

The barely audible growl was coming from round back. I tossed the shells into the grass and made my way around the house. The growling grew louder. 

The mutt was sprawled out on the grass. I pulled my piece and held it steady as a drunken man could. Yet as I crept forward, staring down the creature in my sights, I noticed he wasn’t looking at me, but towards the bushes on my right. 

And that was when it bit me, out of nowhere, leaping from the bush and rushing foward, its form like a wolf but larger.

©️ 2024, Accountec, LLC

Contemplations from Zee Rafters

They think I did not know. Yet even an old bat with a hangover could hear them. My father always told Vlad, verk that sonar, my boy, that’s what makes the Drakuls who we are, our famous (sometimes infamous) listening skills. You never know what you might catch.

Yes, yes, I knew the girl was there. The why escaped me at first. Yet even with that blabbering dolt carrying on below, even without twitching, Vlad got the gist of the conversation. Strange, they were to me. Strangers that seemed stranger then Vlad himself, which of course I found impressive. Perhaps my arrival was vell timed, if a bit undignified.

Zee legged one was more irritating in his oddness. Vlad tried to give him the benefit of the mortality. Life can be rough, I don’t know how they do it. It mystified me how anyone could choose to live here. It vasn’t dark enough, cold enough, and was made entirely from wood and fiber. Verse, it was a long fly from zee nearest cave or castle. 

Vhile the little crazy one fumed, I made a mental note to see if the woods they had mentioned had any caves. I needed to stretch my sonar. And you never know, the bat next door could be a vampire too, you never judge a bat by his hide…

Vhy did I stay? Believe Vlad, I thought about it at great length. Perhaps zee humans had good veins, Vlad said. Perhaps Vlad vas in a rut. Perhaps I had been drinking too much blood. An undeath can be quite long. Vhatever the reason, it was a velcome change of pace. Also, Vlad was determined not to leave on such an undignified manner as I arrived.

The sun is shining. I should sleep...

©️ 2024, Accountec, LLC

Ashes, Dust, and the Others

 The Nerbe of dat bat. Spidey scrub and scrub and di floor is still stained.

He had been fussing about Vlad for what seemed like hours, scrubbing, stopping, crawling back and forth fuming, and on and on. You’d think with eight legs he could scrub faster. 

Sunlight was streaming through the window and vlad hung from a rafter, fast asleep ever since Spider chased him off the floor. The critter was so in a tizzy that he didn’t even notice me slip out the window.

My name is Jess, though they sometimes call me Dust. I’m almost 16, but I left home years ago. Even before my fading, when I became invisible, people didn’t notice me much. I can be very quiet.

I saw on the roof for a few minutes, looking out towards the Southern horizon. It was beautiful, all blue Skye, wisps of clouds, and sunlight above trees, houses, and streets. The people of the world were coming out. 

“Almost time.” A shingle said. Gradually the outlines of a lizard became greener.

Jess smiled. Below, she could see Diamond exercising barefoot on the grass, the tips of her fingers rising to the sky, her eyes closed in meditation.

Jess slid to the edge of the roof and carefully dropped down. A young man leaned against the wall, a lighter in his hand and a smile on his face. He met her eyes and gave the slightest nod but said not a word. The two of them could communicate with nothing more than a look, so intertwined they were that people rarely spoke of one without mentioning the other, closer even then most siblings. They belonged together. Where there was Ashes, there would forever be Dust.

“So tell us the plan, Jenn.” Sarah was walking towards Jess and the old picnic table splintering on the concrete slab. 

The lizard ascended the table and stood, clearing her throat. Everyone sat.

“I’m told there’s a new face in town causing some panic around the woods by the lake. Disturbing the neighborhood. There’s been various reports.”

Ashes stifled a yawn. Jess smiled. Jenn cleared her throat and scowled at Ashes.

“I asked Sarah to poke around.”

Diamond spoke softly, her almost colorless eyes as peaceful as a mountain lake. “Whoever they may be, they’re being careful, and no one knows why. They cover their tracks. But passersby say there is a presence watching them, and items randomly disappear or move. A group of neighbors have offered a cash reward.”

“That’s where we come in. I’ll scout the River while Sarah and Jess set the trap. Ashes, if they flush, you are the noose. Clear?”

Diamond nodded. “Let’s go catch a thief.”

©️ 2024, Accountec, LLC

In the Beginning...

 Somewhere in the Carolinas

Spidey found this attick on my own, I'll hab you kno.

Then came the others, much to Spidey's chagrin. Yees, dey can be useful, but an arachnid needs his space. Cobwebs to hang, wardrobe to store. 

A Spider's werk is nebber done. Deese humans... clumsy, but big. They built a house and did nuttin wit di attick! Spidey fix. 

All Spidey wanted was to bring the attick to its full glory, arachnid style. It was going just fine, tank you berry dutch, but den one night Spidey woke to a fluttering, and there he was, lying on the floor...

    Vlad take it from here. You tell it wrong. Peter Vladimir Drakul II, Prince of the Northern Wood, Wallachia. Yes, yes, I know your question. Drakul, like Dracula? He's my father's father's second cousin. Why he mutilated the name, I do not know. Vanity, Vlad suspects. He also likes to mutilate, on occasion. My family was considered a bit odd by local standards as we dislike the human form. Zee Batty Draks, they called us. 

    I Digress. I left the northern wood many centuries ago to find a home more suitable to family standards, such as they are. I had vent to a party that night with my fellow Vampiric Bats, and vouldn't you know it but someone spiked zee Blood bowl. Vlad was talking to a couple of cute lady bats one moment and zee next I was flying through a vindow and hit my head.

    I voke up on zee floor. Dat's vhere he found me, stunned and out of flap, like a common vampire stumbling on a dance floor, only I vas alone. Zen he came out.

    When the floor started crawling it was a bit of a shock, as you imagine. I was lying there wondering how a floor could crawl when suddenly the wood began shouting at poor Vlad, as if my head wasn't already bringing me to life! (Not something a vampire wants to do, trust me)

VLAD! Spidey's story! As Spidey was saying...

Spidey rushed out stark naked. Being a proud and hands on... errr... handSOME Brown Recluse, that blind bat couldn't tell Spidey from the floor. Di nerb of him! Spidey was in full wryghts to just toss high hindness's black hindness out into di grass, but before I could tink to grab him he threw up on my nice pine floor.

One pool of blood all those years ago and you just can't let it go, yes? 

SHUSH! Spidey had been in di middil of webbing a letter to my Black Widow cousin, and now there was blood all over the webbing. Spidey furious. 

I thought the floor was about to bite me

AND YET, Spidey counted to 8 and remembered rule 16 of di Arachnid code: nebber byte what you won't wrap, and what honest spider would waste good webbing on a bat like dat?

Vell, on that we agree. 

What the boys didn't know is that they weren't alone. What they thought was an abandoned attic was actually one of my hideaways. 

©️ 2024, Accountec, LLC

The Biggo Tree

Where does your mind go in your moments of doubt?

When fear runs wild, you run and hide behind a wall of ignorance

So eager to find someone to blame

You fail to stop to consider if you should.

And so you wrap yourself in false righteousness

pridefully creating narratives to preserve

That ignorance that grants you your superiority

While unleashing primal fury on anyone who fails to acknowledge it.

The mind, like a vine, it sprouts its passions

The mouth, like a chute, fires off its venom

You call it love as if that makes it so.

You’re lost within the biggo tree.

In your frantic desperation to be right

You blind yourself to your own actions

Do you see, within you, your own perversion?

No, you’re lost within the biggo tree.

You know you’re right because you tell yourself so

pronouncing it as often and loudly as you can

You feed on your hatred and lust for its power

So you can look down on your fellow man

You’ll always hate because there is evil,

Not in others but in yourself.

Your obstinance and pride will forever blind you,

Because you’re so petrified of being wrong.

©️ 2025, Accountec, LLC

Waking

Hope in God. If you have good hope and faith in Him, you shall be delivered from your enemies.

Diamond opened her eyes to darkness. The dream I had been chasing was a soft one, of a past that never was. Sweet, the flickers of something warm and heartening. I dreamt of the life I thought was mine, until my nemesis opened my eyes. Sometimes I can feel him whispering into my thoughts, and like a warrior in mortal combat I rage against him with all my strength, and yet I cannot expel him. He is insidious. He is everywhere. But He will not defeat me.

The dream was so vivid, and for a few moments I hold fiercely to the fading images. If only I could dream whilst awake, I would never let that vision pass. But my eyes began to adjust, bringing me back to a place familiar and comforting in the strange way that prison walls are comforting to someone too long behind locked doors. The room is small and dark, and sparsely furnished. There are no pictures on the walls, no knickknacks. The sheets of my bed are clean, but rough, and institutional white. I have been here so many times before, that I recognize this place, as if I belong here. And I do. And I do not. This is not my home, though I know it just as well as any home I have ever known. I stare at the ceiling, wondering if I might see the feathers of that dream again. I chase the last wisps of subconscious desperately. I know my efforts are futile, but still I try. I have to try, because I will not surrender. The dreams were full of color and as alive as any reality. More so even then this place, though I know it is not a dream. In this place, most everything that isn’t brown is white, and every line is straight. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be orderly, or simply dull. It withers the senses to be here and that is intentional. Hear my words and you will understand, as I unfortunately do. I push the sheets away and swing my legs down onto the plain brown carpet. I have a chill from the night. No matter the season, this place is always cold. Like a colony on a far away world, the environment is entirely controlled and completely separate from its surroundings. Only history tells me I am still on Earth. Plain white walls. Bland fresh scent. I am, in a way, home. I both acknowledge and rage against that thought.

There’s a small window that looks out on some shrubs and walkways. Even the outside doesn’t seem real. Too orderly. Too bland. The bushes could as easily be plastic as alive. I honestly don’t know for sure. 

Back within, and over at the small wood desk, is my companion, Candy, shamelessly reading my journal. She’s not the kind to ask, and besides, I can keep no secrets from her anyways. That is one thing I have accepted, and long ago. For better or for worse, she is my constant companion.

I hit the light switch, and the glow decimates any flicker of dreams and summons me fully back to reality. The fluorescent glow is harsh and cold, reminding me that I am not welcome here, no matter what pretensions are made to deceive me. And even the pretensions are few here.

I pull the sheets up and tuck them in. If Candy has noticed my awakening she doesn’t show it. My left hand finds my rosary on the small night table as my right smooths out the blanket. This rosary was a gift to me since before I appreciated it, since before I learned the value of faith. Those times seem as though they belong to another life, a life someone else lived and that she simply witnessed. But it was given to her by her mother. Whether her mother could have forseen the importance she would eventually recognize upon it, she couldn’t say. But she held it closely to her bosom with both her hands as she said her rosary prayers slowly one by one, her mind closed to thought and her soul uplifted to God. She could feel His presence more and more as she made her way through the prayers. Then she crossed herself and kissed the crucifix gently. She could never start her day without this ritual. Without it she felt distracted and lost. She placed it carefully back on the nightstand and headed into the very small bathroom.

As she was brushing her teeth she could hear Candy softly humming in the room, and soon she joined Diamond, leaning in the doorway. Candy was a lot of things Diamond was not, and she loved to tease her about that. Diamond had known her for about eight years now, and she knew the girl better then anyone. She was a collection of jarring contradictions. Her bright pink hair fell down to her shoulders, perfectly straight and smooth, almost silky. Her eyes were an impish green, full of humor and biting sarcasm. She never took anything seriously, whereas Diamond was serious about everything. Candy was fair skinned, but not as pale as her companion, and stood only 5’2” but was full of energy, though you’d never see her eat. She always wore multiple earrings on both ears and a tattoo of a phoenix on her belly. She was flashy and ostentatious to the max and always dressed the same, no matter the weather or occasion: cutoff jeans and a tank top, her nails always perfectly trimmed and painted something neonish. And, consistently, she had a mouth that never knew when to shut up. Though she liked to get under Diamond’s skin, her loyalty was bone deep.

The bathroom was just a dull as the rest of her quarters. It was floored in faded lime green tiles that crept halfway up the walls. She wondered if she was supposed to think she was at the ocean. If so, the designers had failed in that.

She rinsed and paused to accost her reflection. It was nothing like Candy’s. She had lost weight. Her hair was thick but coarse, and it took her some time to brush it into order, but once she did she had a serious look to her. It was somehow a regal bearing that sometimes caught people off guard. She looked like someone important. She only wished she felt that way. There were faint shadows beneath her cutting gray blue eyes. Her complexion was otherwise smooth (the acne of adolescence long behind her), but she was almost ghostly pale. There was a ferocity to those eyes though, an almost indomitable will shining through.

Who are you? She wanted to ask. What did you do with Sarah? When did that little girl become… this? 

That’s when she caught Candy giving her the look. She always tried not to because she knew that Diamond hated seeing it as much as Candy hated giving it, but sometimes Candy slipped. It was the same look of pity and regret. Candy immediately looked away, and the moment is gone. Diamond turned and twisted the shower knob roughly to the hottest setting, as if the steam could cleanse her of her thoughts. She stepped into the spray and closed her eyes, absorbing the sensation of all the little drops of scalding water hitting her skin. The intensity of the heat lured her mind away and for a few moments there was nothing… and it was a beautiful nothing, a nothing that was so much better then all the somethings that she almost smiled.

Her given name was and would always be Sarah Albrecht, but she had been going by the name of Diamond ever since... since then. She was 25 years old and a paranoid schizophrenic, pleased to meet you and how do you do, of course. In case you didn’t realize, Candy’s existence was limited to the extent of Diamond’s tortured imagination. She was a hallucination, nothing more, but that was something that at times slipped Diamond’s mind. After all, she had been with her companion ever since the day that she referred to, perhaps overly dramatically, as the day that Sarah died. For Diamond, it was as serious as cancer, and something that she was constantly aware of, even in the most carefree moments that her existence could contrive. Sarah was so many things Diamond was not and would never be. And no matter how many times people pushed her to release her fierce grip on her bitterness, it would always shine through… through and through.

She smiled as she pictured it again, smiled with fury. The day she discovered the truth about her mind replayed in her consciousness almost every single day. Well, it wasn’t that sudden for her, it was only sudden for the people that surrounded her, those who claimed to love and to KNOW her. And they learned that they did not really know her, not anymore. The day that the people around her discovered the truth about her mind was a crystal clear memory. She had been just a girl, just a normal girl, but by the time they found out she had been hiding it for… weeks? Longer? She was 13 years old when it all started. Sarah was popular, smart, and ambitious. She had a strong, loving family consisting of a doting father, a nurturing mother, and a big brother whose every accomplishment she insisted on doing even better. Her father was a manager at an engineering firm and earned good money. They had everything they needed, and they were happy. The future was not a question of whether good things would come, but, rather, which good things. In those days, the sky was the limit for her. She was an overachiever, envied -ENVIED - by her friends. 

The changes came slowly, quietly, at first. She didn’t know what was happening to her, nor what to do. For the first time in her life she was dealing with something she couldn’t control. And for Sarah, control was everything. 

It started quietly enough. Mere suggestions of thought.  Gentle at first. And then… not. Suddenly she felt paranoid, convinced that her friends were talking about her behind her back constantly. She would get angry and snap at people and accuse them. And then there was the voices, haunting her. 

It was three weeks after the voices started that she came home from school exhausted. Trying to pretend everything was ok was almost impossible and took all the energy she had, and even then it was easy to see that she wasn’t really fooling anybody. She had been sleeping a lot more and doing a lot less. She felt like a ghost, as if she had died and what remained was just a passing glimmer of who she had been. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all just a bad dream. She couldn’t make sense of it, and so it had to be a dream. She used to hate to dream. They were confusing and often frightening. But now in some twisted way she suddenly preferred my dreams to this reality.

She opened the door and almost jumped when she saw her mother sitting there waiting for her. She had this look on her face, a tired look of sadness. 

“Your school called today.” She sipped at a cup of coffee anxiously.

Sarah said nothing. It was obvious by her mother’s expression that something bad had happened. She thought of all the things that were happening, about how her life was crashing down, about how she was helpless to stop the anxiety, the suspicion, the voices. Whatever had happened, it couldn’t be any worse then everything that had already happened.

She dropped my bag and sat across from her, arms crossed defensively, not a word spoken. She just sat, and watched, and waited.

Her mom gazed at me for a few moments, and it struck her that there was more then a tiredness in her expression, more then mere anxiety. She was scared, and lost, and deep in grief. And then the tears came, welling up in her distant eyes.

“What’s happening to you Sarah? You’ve been acting so strangely, and with barely a word to say to any of us. You’ve been so hostile and lazy, and you’re sleeping all the time. Then today your school called and said you’ve been failing your exams. You’ve never failed even one exam before. Honey, whatever it is, please tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it together.”

Her mother’s words softened her a bit, and before Sarah knew it she had broken down crying. What’s happening? She wanted to tell her mother everything, like she had always done up to that point. But she couldn’t think of any words that wouldn’t sound insane. She didn’t want her parents to know what was happening to her, how she was losing her mind. She wanted more then anything to stay the Sarah they knew and loved. And so she turned to the best lies and excuses she could think of. She could tell her mother didn’t really believe them, but eventually she gave up asking, and that was where it ended… for a time.

That night found her crying in her room. She felt completely lost and helpless and didn’t know who she was anymore. She muffled her tears with her pillow, the door shut and locked. Before long she had cried herself to sleep.

When she woke she had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t alone. She had left the overhead light on, but now the only light was the dim glow of her desk lamp. She jumped when she realized someone was sitting at the desk, watching her. She had the playful green eyes and pink hair that was now so familiar to Diamond.

“I’m Candy” she proffered helpfully, as if that explained everything. Sarah stared at her. The girl sighed. “Don’t worry, people get used to me. I can tell you’re not a girl burdened by social graces. Maybe I can help with that.”

“Who… are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Candy? Like the stuff they hand out at Halloween? Look, Sarah, you’re a bit of a mess. I can help you. Trust me.”

Sarah nodded, still staring. And that’s when it really hit home. She finally knew that the girl she had been, the life she had lived, was gone.

©️ 2017, Accountec, LLC

Projection

I don’t know you
You’re not my friend
Nor family, nor lover
To me you’re nothing at all.

Yet I open my world to you.
You listen to my secrets.
They play in the shadows of your mind
And I wonder what you’re not telling me

You seem to exist in another dimension
In a place I simply cannot go
Yet I struggle to reach you nonetheless
never understanding why I try.

Sometimes I want to tear you down,
To belittle you and say hard truths
To break your façade and draw your tears
In a clumsy attempt to make you real.

You’ve done to me not a single crime
but I easily pretend you’ve done everything.
I try to believe that hurting you is justice
Yet I am powerless to pursue such righteousness

I don’t want to feel anything when I look at you.
I pursue complete apathy, though I fail every time.
You’re not a part of my life so why are you in it?
The simple truth is that you aren’t.

I don’t deny that the adversary lies within me
I know that you are more than a reflection
I can warp my concept of you minute by minute
Yet regardless, you remain the same.

Even as I seek you, I try to escape you
It’s a twisted sort of dream
What will you be when our time is done?
As now, a figment of my imagination.

©️ 2019, Accountec, LLC

Island's End

There upon the sandy shore beneath a smoky sky
Past the telltale varied trappings where the tourists lie
Beyond the rocks and midst the surf betwixt the land and sea

You’ll find me at the island’s end… just the gulls and me.
 
The gulls at least they have their flock
The waves the tide; the crabs the rocks
I alone here have no purpose
No flock to join, no fins to surf with.
 
I seek out peace at island’s end
Only to face familiar questions again
I find that doubts are my only companion
As I search for signs but never find them
 
I can see in the distance the tourists cavort
Delighting in words, sun and sport
But the chaos of life has worn me down
I jealously guard what peace I’ve found.
 
Certainly, I could pretend to belong
Buy a few drinks and they’ll play along
We’ll laugh and play and fight the tide
Without a thought of duty or pride
 
But once I dreamt of following a creed
Of being a crusader of great words and deeds.
It seems to me many ages ago
But I once had places to be and to go
 
The tide brings me a tenuous peace
Can troubles wash away like driftwood on the beach?
The world is so simple yet somehow complex
The waves wash in… the seaweed collects
 
There is no home for me by the surf
Soon comes night and my return to the turf
I take a last look at the stars as I leave
knowing in my heart that this is just a reprieve.

©️ 2019, Accountec, LLC