Authors: Samantha Forest
“What is it?”
“How do I have a child if I’m a man?” Robert responded almost immediately.
“Haha I knew you would ask. Well, were going to have to perform a caesarean section on you. A “C” section as they call it.” Barnaby said confidently.
“Umm…okay. I trust you Barnaby. I think this could be a great thing for us. As long as I have you by my side as my protector and lover, everything will be alright,” Replied Robert.
“Good. And I’ll make sure that I don’t attack the town, and nobody else attacks us or especially you too. You keep me level headed, and I love you so much for that,” Barnaby replied.
Robert smiled, and soon he felt Barnaby pull him into his arms. They kissed, both of them knowing that no matter what, this would work. They will make it work, and they will be happy.
8 and a ½ months later, a beautiful baby girl named Sarah was born, bearing the same color of eyes that Robert had, light blue like the sky on a beautiful clear day. The two of them lived together shortly after they became public with the announcement. It was strange and the delivery of Sarah was awful for Robert, but they lived a happy life. Robert and Barnaby did get married after she was born, and the two of them had a great ceremony where they were able to consummate their love. They knew that this was the start of the future, a future that they had no intention of occurring. Things happen for a reason, and that night when Robert decided to sit right next to Barnaby proved to be a life changing night.
Since their agreement, no fires had happened in the area, and there weren’t any attacks. Robert continued to be a detective, and Barnaby became a tattoo artist and stay-at-home dad. From there, they learned to love one another, care for one another, and make each other happy. Barnaby was finally able to let the past go, instead replacing it with the future that he knew he cared about more than anything else. Impregnated by a dragon. Can you image how much that could change your life?
*****
THE END
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Her Secr
et Cowgirl
by Patricia Vanzant
Emma looked around her apartment trying to grasp what had just happened. Only a moment ago, she had been sitting in front of the TV thinking over what she would say in her presentation on Monday, and now there wasn’t going to be a Monday at work. Her company had just gone bankrupt, the board members were nowhere to be found, and the company was going to be liquidated immediately. The room seemed to swim around her. The granite countertops and expensive fixtures seemed to taunt her for her arrogance. She had been renting an apartment that was almost beyond her salary, and there was no way she could afford this month’s rent. She curled her fingers around the edge of the couch cushions and tried to ground herself with the sound of her fingernails plucking over the ridges of the fabric. Her phone was still glowing in her lap, a slow drip of text messages coming from her colleagues all asking if she had just got the same news that they had. The longer she waited frozen on her couch, the quicker they poured in. The advertising company she had worked for was huge, its enormous headquarters was a prominent building in the city. It was unfathomable that it had all just crumbled without even a hint of warning. Emma’s whole life was built around her career. This weekend had been a rare occasion that she wasn’t still hovering around the office. All her friends were based there, and she could be sure that they were already making calls and sending emails trying to re-establish themselves somewhere else. It was a guarantee that if by the end of the week they hadn’t found a new job in the city, they would be flying elsewhere. They weren’t exactly the sort of people who ever got tethered to one place or one group, and Emma knew she couldn’t expect any sort of loyalty from them, nor they from her.
Eventually, Emma got up from the couch, pulling her long brunette hair up into a knot on the top of her head and then let it fall back over her shoulders. Her apartment was bright and airy, minimalist and painfully fashionable. She was on the 15
th
floor of her building and the eastern wall of her living room was entirely glass. She could never quite decide if she liked that feature of the apartment or whether it made her feel exposed, but at this moment she found herself surveying the entire city, rapidly running through all the people and places she could call. The thought of it exhausted her – starting over in a new company, figuring out everyone’s agendas and personalities, learning the ropes from scratch again. Even though she was at this moment towering above it, the city felt claustrophobic and overwhelming. The sky was pink and cold and bereft of clouds. Even though her apartment was warm, she felt the prickle of the bitter air outside, the beginnings of a sharp overnight frost which was unusual at this time of year. She straightened out her white t-shirt which hung from her fit, toned body elegantly, showing off a glimpse of her hipbones. She had been a gymnast all through school, and while she had given up the sport, she was conscious of keeping in good shape. She had tight, hard abs and firm, small breasts. Sometimes she worried that her body had gone from appearing muscled and healthy to somewhat gaunt and overstretched. She often found herself too tired to eat and her face, once warm with refined features and olive green eyes, had become hollow. Her petite frame had become fragile looking rather than strong, and she often found herself wearing several layers of clothes in an attempt to feel less vulnerable in the chaotic world of public transport and city streets at night. It was as if she was made of tissue paper, and any contact too strong or visceral would damage her irreparably.
Picking up her phone again, she sent a series of rapid emails cancelling her utilities and informing her landlord of her impending departure. She was moving too rapidly to really challenge the plan she had made inside her head, but it hovered there, just clear enough for her to make motions towards its realization. The last call she made was to an old high school friend from her hometown, far north of where she now lived.
“Hey Tom, it’s me Emma.” She paused, wondering if he’d remember her from high school.
“Of course, Emma! Christ it’s been so long! How are you?” His voice sounded as if he was still chain smoking as he had since high school, gravelly and hard.
“I’m ok,” her voice cracking. “Well, honestly Tom I’m calling to ask for a favor. I know this is pretty out of the blue, but I was wondering if you knew of any jobs that were available. My company just went under, and I just can’t stay here anymore.” The end of her sentence faltered, her breathing irregular and harsh.
“Well Emma, you’re actually in luck. Depending on when you can get here, there’s a ranch a couple miles from me that needs someone for the winter to go through their accounts and help out with the animals. It’ll be hard work though, if you’re still the tiny little thing I remember you being!” Tom laughed, anxious to stop Emma from getting any more upset. At school they had had a lot of classes together, gotten each other through a lot of stressful college applications, and even dated briefly, but they had drifted apart when she moved away. Talking to Tom instantly felt comforting to Emma, like running her hands over an old favorite t-shirt. She steadied herself, trying to unknot her stomach and relax a little.
“Thank you so much! You’ve no idea what this means to me. I can get up there by the end of the week, I just need time to pack and stuff.”
“No need to thank me, just promise me we’ll get dinner or drinks when you get here!”
“Sounds like a plan! I’ll talk to you soon.” She laughed with relief, hanging up the call. She was a little worried that she wouldn’t be up for the physical element of working on a ranch, but she tried not to dwell on it. She pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge and took a large clean glass out of the cabinet. The wine was dry and sharp, and went some way towards settling her nerves. She leaned on the countertop and bent her head to her shoulders to stretch out her spine, each vertebrae pushing through her skin in little white pressure points.
***
By the time the day to drive to the ranch arrived, Emma’s whole body felt drained from a week of sweet-talking to landlords, bank officials, and various other boring middle-management types into letting her out of several different contracts on such short notice. They were easy to play, men like them. She knew how to turn on the nubile, delicate sexuality that seemed to drive them all crazy. It wore her out in all honesty. Sometimes it’d be nice to be able to get this sort of shit done without having to play to some idiot’s stupid sexual fantasies. The exasperation she felt made her tighten her grip around the steering wheel and press down hard on the accelerator. Allowing herself to be swallowed up by the whirr of the engine and the endless, near empty road ahead of her, she let out a deep breath. For a split second she wanted to close her eyes, but crushed the thought back down again. She was glad to be leaving that place, glad to be heading back somewhere she knew. She hesitated to call it familiar, struggling to recall what that feeling might be like. Being too long in the city made her feel like she had never really known anyone, that somehow she had floated out of the ether and emerged, fully formed and blank, in her glossy apartment paid for by a career based entirely around lying and making people feel bad about themselves.
The entire journey took about four hours, which was the longest time Emma had spent in a car in a while. The roads on the way there were desolate, most of the other drivers probably scared off by the predictions of snow which had failed to materialize. She followed the cool, geographically neutral voice from her GPS until she ended up on the one lane, well-worn roads that indicated she was back in her old neck of the woods. She eventually pulled up to the blinking location on her map. Over the entrance of the ranch was a tall, cast iron sign reading ‘Magnolia Farms’, which felt immediately like an unduly delicate name for a ranch which specialized in training mustangs. It was nearing sunset, and the sky was scattered with burnt pink clouds bleeding into the blue like a watercolor. The surrounding area was silent except for the distant whinnying of horses. She pulled into the driveway, gravel and ice crunching under her tires, and she pulled up in front of the house.
***
The house itself was two stories tall and clad in weathered pine. The roof was a sort of sheet metal which was rusted in places. The windows were large, made up of individual panes of glass, some of which appeared to be stained. There was a small porch surrounded by a balustrade which was carefully carved with leaves and flowers. The light coming from inside the house was butter yellow and cast a warm glow over Emma’s car. She paused for a moment, taking in the house and the area, how isolated it was in comparison to where she had lived just hours before. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed open her car door and stepped out, moving to pull her cases out of the back seat. While she was maneuvering the bags out of the car, she hadn’t noticed that the door of the ranch house had opened. A tall woman was leaning on the porch and watching her, but it took only a few seconds before she felt eyes on her. She turned around to meet the other woman’s eyes, trying to manage a friendly smile and a hello, but she was caught off guard by her piercing stare. Her face was completely blank, her lips pursed into a hard line, and her eyes burning into Emma. Even though she was leaning over, Emma could tell she was tall. She was wearing jeans and a black loose shirt with a grandfather collar. Her hair was short and messy, dark with flecks of warm mahogany running through it. Her eyes were dark and almond shaped. Her skin was tanned and sprinkled with freckles which lent a cute, nearly boyish tinge to her otherwise serious expression.
“Hi, I’m Emma. Tom…Tom said you had a job for me here?”
“Well I do, but I had been expecting someone slightly sturdier. Need a hand with those bags?” she said, looking slightly irritated.
Emma was already indignant, but in reality the bags were nearly as big as she was, and she hadn’t a hope of getting it up the steps of the front porch without help. She nodded, and the other woman stood up straight and walked over to her, picking up the bag and slinging it over one shoulder. Emma looked up at her and noticed her incredibly sharp bone structure. She had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and in her own way was a sort of classic beauty. Watching her pick up the bag with such ease, she felt a current of something between intimidation and admiration sweep through her. She was already halfway toward the door before Emma came to her senses, grabbed the smaller case, and walked quickly to catch up with her.
“I’m Kate, by the way,” the tall woman said, just barely turning her head to meet Emma’s eyes. “So this is the main house. Your room is upstairs on the left, and I’m next door. I’m expecting a lot of snow overnight, so I’ll be up at about 5am to check on the animals. Feel free to join me.”