House Shoes and Hammer Maids

It all started as a theory. A madman’s rant. It barely made the news, and even then it was delivered as more of a joke than a threat. But it didn't stay that way for long. It became more real with every story. It became our reality. And in a matter of weeks the life that so peacefully existed was gone for good. It was total and utter chaos. It was the end of the world, and we would all live to see it happen.

They told us it was inevitable. They told us that there was nothing anyone could do. They lied and said everything they needed to say to scare us into believing, not thinking, this was the end. They told us a near by star had exploded hundreds of millions of years ago and the left over debris was traveling through space and headed right towards our solar system. And despite the fact that they said they weren't sure what would happen, they made it perfectly clear that it would destroy us all. Video simulation of the event was in every email, on every channel, and had been viewed on YouTube 13,580,000,000 times. That is roughly twice the world population. The Discovery Channel alone had done 12 different documentaries on the event in the first six months after the news was announced. We were told to go on with our normal lives and that if we just stayed positive and kept on living, we would figure it all out. They lied to us. They lied to everyone.

What happened for the next four and half years was the deterioration of all culture, society, modern man and the machines we work for. Society is able to function based on only a few simple rules; actions and reactions. People are kind to be treated the same in return, and the same goes for respect, honor, dignity, integrity and trust. Whether you believe in a God or karma or anything else, we operate under the principles of basic morality and ethics. We kept living our lives like they told us to, but only for about the first 16 months, then we started to panic. We started to loose hope. So what did we do? Nothing. And things got bad. It started with the students in small numbers, but naturally it grew. They all dropped out. If they were going to be dead in three and a half years, there wasn't much sense in staying in school. It started a revolution, a worldwide revolution. People lost purpose. They lost their drive and desire, they lost their hope and faith, and they lost their minds. The basic modern world became a jungle where nobody was safe and everyday turned into a struggle to survive. People began to realize that they made machines so they could have something to work on. And with enough machinery to take care of, everyone would have a different job taking care of a different machine. We employed ourselves and it gave us purpose so we wouldn't go mad having to think about how we don't. And without the most simplistic of purposes, civilized man turned into a barbarian. No longer with the threat of consequences like in the past, society began to crumble and life became a battle. The cities turned into war grounds and it was every man for himself. It was every man against the world. Kill or be killed. Material possessions lost value over night and only the strongest would survive the genocide. The term 'picky eater' was thrown around a lot when the wars first broke out. It meant cannon fodder. It meant lame duck. It meant you were fucked. Grown men were so accustomed to being treated like gods, that when it came time to fend for themselves, they had lost their ability to be the very thing that nature intended them to be; hunters and gatherers. Imagine man losing out to nurture instead of nature. Raised by televisions, computers and video games, man and been taught to be a robot and not a provider. The entire human race had forgotten how to take care of itself without the assistance of machines.

There had been theories on if the government had the ability to control the weather. Conspiracies and documentaries about the idea of a controlled environment had been published for years, but to this day nothing had been proven. Not a month after the worldwide strikes and work stoppages began to start, so did the most severe and outrageous sequence of natural disasters the world had ever seen. At least one earthquake on every major coast worldwide. Islands were sinking under the weight of the crashing storms, tornados, volcanoes, droughts, floods, flues, fires, killer bees, killer bears, fucking everything was killer. And instead of a small number of deaths or injuries under the modern concept of people working to help people, nobody did anything about it. They envied the dead. So instead of a wild fire burning for a few days and torching a few houses and such, they destroyed cities, towns and in California's case, half of states. There was nobody there to clean up the messes of the world. We had turned our backs on each other and nobody gave a damn because we all knew that no matter how hard we tried, we were just counting down the days until it all came crashing down.

The specifics of the next three years are not what is important here. But know this. To watch the modern world devour itself and its own inhabitants is something that haunts my soul and gives me no reason to believe that there is any good left in the world. Except for Lucy, she doesn't count. She is good. She is fucking super good. Think of it this way, with nothing to live for, man’s evolution is backwards and we resort to violence, theft, murder and rape. We simply take what we want, because in the end, the fate we face will be the same for all sinners and saints. But like I mentioned earlier, they lied. "They" are the powers that be. The man, the eyes in the sky, big brother, the iron fist, the iron lotus, the iron lung, the fucking people who run our lives. They told us we were dead. They told us there was nothing we could do. And they sat back and watched us do something they could never get away with on any scale anywhere. They committed genocide. With enough working parts, any machine can run just fine without its operators. They set the wheels in motion and let the media do the rest. Feed us the lies that we make up. They force it down because it is too big to do on their own. The lies we tell each other are ultimately how the world comes to meet its end.

But why now? Why do this at all when we were all doing so well. We had just quit smoking, given up porn for the last time, or had stopped stealing from work and our wives. We were all making such good progress on being exactly what everyone said we should be. So why Mr. Congress man? Years ago, before any of this had come to light, the UN decided they wanted a world order. An ultimate law, world government and world leader. Another Caesar. One name, one law, over GOD, for every living soul to obey. But the modern man would never accept this. It goes against everything we are taught to believe. Nothing is over GOD. We should all be governed by people we know and trust and go to church with and play slow-pitch coed softball with. There would be resistance. And man is resilient and can endure and will fight for what he believes in. They had to get us to do it to ourselves. With a small enough population and if people are desperate enough, they will do anything. Even compromise everything he had for so long and so passionately believed in. If it means getting some food, having a warm place to sleep and possibly, if its not too much to ask, some botox, we will sell our souls to the devil. And we ain't asking much.

With the news of the end of the world, everyone had a different reaction. Lark took the news rather well. It was one of his finer traits. He just took everything in stride. But the end of the world does have a tendency to re-prioritize one’s life. And Lark is no exception. If he was going to die, there was only one way to go. With Lucy. The one thing he had never been able to get a hold of and keep. She was too free a spirit to tie down, but in death, he knew she would be there for him. There is no one he would rather die with. He just had to find her. And Lucy was notorious for being a ghost, not literally of course, just here one second and gone the next. It was part of her charm. The kind of fight that is worth the pain because the victory is so sweet.

The end of the world is coming, and Larks only concern is if he'll see Lucy one more time before they both get themselves killed.

Soul Traffic

He sits in the biggest office in the tallest building in the grandest city in the world. His desk has no nameplate and to most of the world outside, he isn't even real. Outside the giant office windows is a city he watches eat, kill, and destroy itself. There is no computer on his desk and while the office looks modern and is well kept, its decorations and furniture look more like ancient artifacts than current living quarters. And he sits, looking from file to file, from book to book, outside and then back to his work. He works with purpose and is driven by his desire and focus. The room is quiet and very hot and the setting sun turns everything red, orange, and pink. He is dressed like lawyer for GQ, who lives with a staff of professional stylists and artists. Needless to say he looks good. He always looks good. In fact, he is the most handsome man you will every meet. His eyes are soft blue and grey, and they invite your soul to wish for more. His skin is smooth, golden, radiant, and often looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine. His teeth and smile make women melt and gives men confidence they have never known and when he speaks, you confuse his voice for a choir of angels. He is powerful, rich and kind and will give you anything and everything you could ever want. He only asks for one simple thing in return, your soul.

A young man walks into the office without knocking and carries paperwork in folders under his arm. As he approaches, the seated man looks up but makes no reaction and offers no greeting. Without speaking the young man hands over the files and the man seated immediately begins to go through them.

“Do you think this is it? Do you think this will work?” The young man asks with a genuine curiosity in his voice.

The seated man looks upwards without moving his head, “Lets hope so… my patience is wearing thin and we are running out of time,” he says, looking back towards the files.

“Is this all of it, is this everything?”

“Yes… will there be anything else?”

“There is Malachi. The girl, see what you can find on the girl.”

Malachi nods and asks, “anything else?”

“No Malachi. That will be all.”

The young man turns and walks out.

The seated man puts down the files and picks up his cell phone off the desk and dials a number. Even the devil has to keep in touch with his friends and family. The phone rings a few times and a voice with lots of noise in the background answers, “Hey brother.”

“Are you at a strip club? Are you at another fucking strip club? When you are done with your lap dance, or whatever it is you are in the middle of doing, it would be great if you could come by the office. There is something I need to show you.”

“I’m not at a strip club, I’m at a… I’m not at a strip club. What do you want to show me?”

“This would be better done in person.”

“Lou, I’m right in the middle of something here. Can it wait?”

The voice on the line says to somebody else, “I paid for a full song, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Lou sighs, “No Vasilios, it can't, so... get your ass over here."

"Fine, I’ll be there in 30 minutes."

"V... Malachi was just here."

The other line is quiet except for the loud thump of the bass, the squeal of girls, the clanking of glass bottles, a girls’ voice yelling “HEY?!?” and finally Vasilios saying, “I’m on my way.”

…

Vasilios sits across from Lou with his elbows on the desk and his hands crossed in front of him. He raises his eyebrows and says, “Well…out with it.”

“I have received some top secret intelligence that would appear to have some very valuable information about our dear friends upstairs that could very well alter the course of their so well planed out Armageddon.”

“You have the blue prints for the Apocalypse?”

“Maybe.”

“You pulled me out of Sweet Tips for maybe. Do I need to beat it out of you?”

Lou, obviously annoyed at his brothers’ lack of desire to draw out his big news, tosses the folder over and says, “Read it.”

V opens the folders and starts to flip through what looks like ancient text, old sketches of some sort of horn and more transcripts written in Aramaic and Hebrew. “What is all this? We starting a family band?” He puts the folder down.

“Such a child. No dick. That horn is our key to finally getting back at those assholes who kicked us out of our home."

“You got us kicked out. Lets not get mixed up here. I didn't leave under my own will. I was forced out of paradise because you have an issue with our creator. I didn’t want to get kicked out.”

“Whatever. This is our chance to even the score.”

“Well I’m all for that, but what is all this text and what’s with the horn? Can’t you just give me cliff notes? You know I hate reading that ancient script shit, it is so confusing. It’s like trying to read Shakespeare.”

“Would a little culture kill you? Shakespeare is art, not a fitness magazine.”


”I get plenty of culture. Trixie was just telling me about how she thinks her baby daddy could either be Mexican or Chinese, but either way he ain’t gonna be no gang banger. Now that’s culture.”

Lou drops his head; clearly the dramatic affect he was going for is now lost. “Ok, enough of this… just shut up and listen. This is big, so just follow along and don’t say anything. I have found a major loophole in the plan of salvation in direct correlation to the second coming of Jesus. It has forever been believed that on the day that Gabriel blows the final horn, all the saved will leave their worldly bodies and ascend to the heavens. All those left behind would be left for us to do with what we please. What I am proposing is that what if Gabriel never blows his horn? And better yet, what if somebody else blows it for him? Say… one of us?”

V, with intent in his eyes, is captivated by Lou, “but you and I both know those are sacred and blessed horns and no demon, on earth or in hell, can lay a finger on those horns without instant cremation.”

“Exactly brother, no demon, but instead a man, especially a man with royal blood, a man with royal lineage to those who sit on the thrown of the underworld. For as far back as I can remember I have had some sort of child of mine living here on earth for this very purpose. I just needed the right tools for the job. A human with the same blood that flows through me flows through him. If I can get my son to blow that seventh horn, the final horn, every saved soul will be up for grabs. It will unleash hell on earth and it will be every man for himself. Those mother fuckers will have to fight for what’s theirs, no soul is safe and you better believe they won’t be ready for this kind of battle.”


”Battle? This is war. This will be a holy war. It will be every angel versus every demon for every living soul on earth. You’re fucking insane Lou, absolutely insane, and if you are right, than you maybe be the craftiest motherfucker alive.”

“Well I wouldn’t say alive really, but I get what you’re saying.”

“But wait I second, you aren’t talking about using Lark are you? You do have somebody a little older than him, somebody with a little more hands on experience doing these kinds of jobs? Someone with a little more mayhem experience?”

“Well I did... but he died a couple years back in that zoo fire. Marcus was his name. Marcus Acario.”

“No, no way man, not Lark. He’s so young; he’s barely a man, if even. This would be way too much for him. You can't send a boy to do a man’s job, and this is way to important to risk having some kid fuck it up. Opportunities like this just don't come along every year.”

“What other choice do we have? He is the only living family we have and it would take years to get another and you know we don’t have time. The wheels here are in motion and going full speed. Our plan is working perfectly, we just need the right tool for the job.”

“He’s not a fucking tool Lou, he’s a kid, and he’s my nephew and your son, not just a name on a list. I am telling you right now you are asking too much. I want this just as badly as you do, but...I don't know man... I just don't think it's fair.”

“Fair? Was it fair that we got banished from our home for questioning our creator? Was it fair that we have to live a life without his love just for trying to help? They sold us out V. They threw us under the bus because they needed to make an example of us. How many other angels are down here with us? And a son? A nephew? He has no clue who or what he is, and I guarantee that if he knew he was related to us he would just kill himself. What am I supposed to do, send him a birthday card saying ‘Happy 21st son, love your dad the devil’? He is our only option and you know it.”

Vasilios sits quietly for a few minutes while he contemplates what is happening. It is obvious he isn't in love with the idea of using Lark, but he also understands the weight of their situation and the lack of options they have.

“... how do we get him to blow the horn? I mean, unless we tell him it will never cross his mind. And if we tell him, don’t you think he will want to know why? We are asking him to sacrifice his life and essentially everyone else’s for our personal gain. I'm not sure he'll be so willing to participate."

Lou looks away from Vasilios and outside to where the city is bright with lights from pulsing living life below. “Leave that to me, I think we may be able to work out a deal of sorts. I think there may be something of his that he would rather not loose. I just have to convince him that this small favor will be worth the trade.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound when you try to talk tough like you have a secret. Just fucking tell me what you think you can trade him for.”

Lou turns back around and points to another folder on the desk but says nothing. V picks it up and turns it long ways. “She’s cute…is this your plan? Trade the girl for the horn? You think it will work, I mean, you think she’s worth it to him?”

“Yea, I think she is.”

“So we are resting the fate of our eternity on a girl and how much Lark likes her?”

“You got a better plan?”

V looks back down at the file for a little longer, “Well Lucy Stellar, lets hope you’re worth it.”

Saintly Rows

"That was my father.”

“I figured… what’s up?”

She’s takes a deep breath and sighs, she is clearly distraught. “He was saying some crazy stuff…crazier than normal.”

“That’s saying a lot.”

“He was going on and on about how he thinks it would be best if I went to be with him.”

“What?! We’ve already been over this!”

“No, I know I know... and I told him that, I told him I wasn’t going to leave, but he said things have changed and I should reconsider. So I asked him what’s changed? And he got all weird and quiet and kept avoiding the question. But he kept saying I should leave and I should be with him… he was really freaking me out.”

Lark is upset but trying to stay cool. He hates it when her father gets like this, but if he gets pissed it only pushes her away. “So… what are you going to do?”

“Nothing... like you said, we’ve been over this. Whatever time we have left, whatever is going to happen, I want to be here…with you, for whatever is going to happen.”

Lark smiles but Lucy doesn’t. He can see her wheels turning and he can tell something in her fathers tone is making her worry. Something in her face is making Lark worry.

…

Larks phone hums and buzzes at him to let him know he’s got a text.

“Are you busy?” It’s Lucy

“Nope.” He texts back, awaiting her reply, wondering why she is asking.

A few seconds go by and the phone starts to sing. Not a text. He answers the phone the same way he always answers when she calls. “Hi”

“Holy fuck, have you not heard?”

“No, what?! Everything ok?”

“It’s a lie, its all been a lie. Some sort of trick or something, fuck I don’t know. You haven’t heard about any of this? Jesus.!”

“Wait, slow down, what are you talking about? Who is lying about what?”

“The government, the…the end of life stuff, the whole five years thing…they are saying it isn’t real or that it isn’t going to happen I’m not quiet sure, but either way they are saying that it isn’t going to happen.”

“Well that’s fucking great! Why don’t you sound like this is good news…?”

“…They are saying that they need everyone to start moving towards a central location. They want everyone to be together. I think they want to try and start over…”

“Ok…I’m lost. Are you close to home?”

“Yea, I'll be there in like five minutes.”

“Ok, just explain this all again when you get home.”

"Ok, that’s a good idea, I will.”

“Ok, see you soon.”

“yeah…bye.”

…

Lucy walks in and drops her things but stands still looking at Lark shaking her head. “Its all going to change…again. “

“Lets just take a step back and you start from the beginning. Where were you.”

“I went to get my hair done and one of the t.vs was on the government channel and the talking head was going on about how they are setting up checkpoints and for everyone to start making there way towards some central location or they will be left for dead. They said everyone has one week to pack everything they want to take with them but don’t expect to every be back home. They said it was for our own good.”

Lark has a chuckle at the though of the hairdresser. The end of the world is supposed to be six months away and still girls will do just about anything to get there hair done. Money means nothing these days so you have to trade or give things of value to get a hair cut. Food and water are typical and some people still take cash hoping that they will be dead and rich. But for the most part its food and water, and drugs or sex, it varies from person to person. Aside from the hair dresser the only other people who still have jobs are butchers and drug dealers. The necessities of life…food, drugs and looking good. Some things never change.

Lark shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “Is this what your dad was talking about?”

“I don’t know, but I'll bet you it is.”

“So what exactly are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, I have no fucking clue, I just found all this out minutes ago. None of this makes any sense.”

“Well, I say the first thing you do is call your dad and get our facts straight before I pack up my vintage record collection, cause you know there is no way I’m leaving those behind.” 
Lucy doesn’t smile but she does sit down. “What the fuck? What the fuck is going on?

It was so hard to accept this fate, this life…the end. And now they are telling us this isn’t it. I should be relived that its not, but a part of me…”

She turns to Lark and kisses him, “a part of me was ready to go.”

She leans back to look in his eyes to gauge his response. He stares back not giving her anything. Its what she loved about him, you never really knew what he was thinking.

She stands and grabs her phone, “I’m going to call my dad and see if I can get some details on all this.”

Lark watches Lucy slide open the glass door of the patio and dial her father. The conversation turning from general concern and confusion to anger, frustration, and fear. She cries and throws her arms, she sits, she stands and paces, she stops moving and for a short while appears to be almost lifeless. Larks eyes follow Lucy almost the entire time, and though and knows what is going on, this is one of those times that you really have to know what is being said. “Maybe they were talking about her mother?” he says aloud with a smile. He can always make himself laugh.

She opens the patio door with a look on her face that he doesn’t think he’s ever seen. This fills him with nameless fear and dread. They were facing their impending doom, they had lived as fugitives and refuges, and they had seen the world eat itself. This look... this was something he had never seen. Lark was nervous, very very nervous.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at her in the face, but not in the eyes.

She sits down and looks at him but is still quiet. Seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel years as he waits for her to break the deafening silence.

“I have to go. I can’t stay her anymore.”

“We have to go you mean, we.”

“Yea… Yes… we have to go.” She looks away.

“They are going to start over. A new world order my father called it. The meteors or comets or whatever it was that was going to kill us, well it’s not going to happen. He said they stopped it, but now because of what has happened over the last few years, they want to get everyone together in one central location so we can rebuild together. Everyone he said, in the world, in one place to create a new society. He thinks they can make a utopia.“

Lark rolls his eyes, “typical government bullshit. Utopia? Really, a fucking utopia with the left over trash of the world. The only people left are the people crazy enough to kill to survive or the people scared enough to hide and too passive to kill themselves. Those people are weak, dumb and will make a terrible utopia…or a great one because you can brain wash them in a matter of days… you don’t think…?”

“He said the dangerous wouldn’t be aloud in. He said no felons, no criminals, no crazies, no people with warrants, criminal records, or mental health disorders, they are only going to let in the clean, the trusted, the good... the safe.”

Lark and Lucy know exactly what this means. Lark is and has been a fugitive for almost his entire life; he has a warrant in almost every state, a criminal record and should probably be medicated for his neurotic behavior.

“Lucy… you can’t go. We can’t go. There’s no question about it. I won’t get past the first checkpoint or whatever you call it. I won’t get past shit. We have to stay. We’ll be fine her, you and me, well be fine.”

Lucy doesn’t blink and doesn’t look away because she knows he is wrong. They both do. She puts a hand on his face, she knows he’s scared, she’s scared too. They had worked so hard for so long just to get to this point only to find out that it was all being ripped apart.

“You know I can’t stay. I’m dead if I do. We’ll both be dead if we stay. How long do you think we can last out here on our own? Look outside Lark, there’s nothing left, and there will be even less than that next week. The floods, the fires, the earthquakes, tornadoes, and food, where will we get food? No babe, I’m sorry, but you know we can’t stay.”
”Then what, what do we do? I can’t go with you, it doesn’t matter who you father is, I’m a goner the first place we stop. What do you think they are going to do with all the unwanted? I’m as good as dead any way you look at it. And Roxanne? This may as well be all her idea, she'll make every effort to make sure i don't survive a week out there on my own.”

She stares at him hard. He looks away because he knows what she is doing. Tough love is a son of a bitch. She doesn’t say anything but keeps her eyes fixes. She is waiting for him to man up. To be the man she loves. “I’ll follow you... I'll stay behind and sleep in the shadows, but I’ll be there every step of the way. If the path you take takes you where you are supposed to be, than it's where I'm supposed to be.” He looks down and away thinking about what he just said and nods to himself. "I can do this... for you, I can do this. I mean, I've already done so much, what's a couple nights out on the road?"

She smiles a coy little smile like she just beat him in a game of chess. She is smarter than him, nobody ever questioned that. She nods and says, “When we get to where ever it is we are supposed to go, that’s where my father will be. And once he sees I’m safe he will do and give me anything. I'll just tell him that he can either let you in or let me go. Knowing my father, he would sacrifice the safety of millions if it meant my happiness.”

“This is nuts, you know that right. I am a hunted and very unpopular man. I may not make it one night out there on my own.”

“Well I guess you can choose, die here alone a slow boring death, or die fighting for our future and freedom.”

“Oh that’s not far at all. Why is it always on me to choose? You could choose to die here with me. Slow and boring doesn’t sound all that bad…?”

“Don’t be cute,” she says while standing. “Pack your things kid, looks like we’re taking a trip.”

She stands looking down at a boy dressed like a man. Innocent, and scared she sees him the way she has always seen him, tragically flawed with a good heart. She wonders where the years without him went and why it took so long to figure out what it is he meant to her, why in her youth she hadn't seen his goodness and grace like she did now. She hoped now that he felt her love, that he knew she was sorry and regretted the past, their past. But mostly she just hoped he wouldn't get himself killed the minute he stepped outside. She forces a smile pretending that she thinks it will all be ok, he stares back, blank as night, cold as the air outside. He does not smile back, he doesn't share her optimism.

…

Lark sits looking Lucy in the eyes with the same look a puppy gives its owner. But she is like a wall. She had the ability to turn off her emotions and just stick to the facts. To not be swayed by emotions, but knew that sometimes you have to make a decision based on something other than your heart.

“So this is it?”

“Looks like it.”

“And…you’re sure about all this?”

“Yea.”

“Because its not to late to change your mind.”

“Yes it is.”

Lark looks away because he doesn’t know what to say, and he doesn’t want to argue because she’s right. They had only two more days.

“My father said the first checkpoint has already opened and closed. The nearest checkpoint is 70 miles from here and we have two days to get there. We have to leave tomorrow.”

Lark takes a deep breath and sighs. Lucy doesn’t ask why he sighs because she knows. She would do anything for Lark, except give up. That’s what staying meant to her, to them. It was giving up on their future, on everything they had worked so hard to create, on everything they had left behind. She knew these next couple months would be hard, but how hard she could never know. She knew the anxiety he felt over losing her again and the risk involved in what they were about to try, but still, she knew what had to be done.

“How far is it? I mean, how many miles total?”

“A lot. I’m not exactly sure but my father said it would be around 3,000.”

Lark is nodding his head even though he cannot fathom that distance in his mind.

“So how long will it take to get there?”

“He said it should take us about 14 weeks, give or take. The checkpoints are open for two weeks before they close but people are only aloud to stay for two nights, so well be moving pretty quickly.”

“And that’s all that we know?”
”Yep. He said take the trains as often as we can and the busses, stay in groups, keep your ID on you in case we get stopped and avoid the Gethins.”

“Wow, what would we do without such useful information? Maybe I should send him a thank you card.” Lark says I a very dry and sarcastic tone. “Who would have thought to avoid the Gethins, how weird.”

She smirks at him but doesn’t say anything.

They are sitting on the couch next to one another but not touching. They are in business mode, as Lark likes to think of it. Sometimes they would sit on that couch for hours talking, debating, and arguing different points on different subjects. Learning from one another, teaching each other new perspectives, telling stories and relating to each other’s experiences. Lark called it business time in his head, the times when Lark and Lucy weren’t lovers, but loving companions there trying to help the other one be better. It was the bases of their relationship and the driving force behind their lust for each other’s love.

“Will you be ready to go in two days? Do you know what you are going to take?”

Lark laughs but only because his answer is something he had considered his entire life. Something he had been practicing since he was just a child.

“I think I’ll be ready.” He replies with confidence.

“The clothes on your back and your ipod?” Lucy says with a smile.

“And I’ll probably pack some extra socks.” She laughs and puts her head on his shoulder. Business time is over. He pulls her closer to him; now sitting side by side they say nothing as the stay inside their own heads for a little while longer. Thinking things through, they both have to come to their own level of understanding of the situation before they are ready to move forward. Before they speak. He closes his eyes and daydreams of what life could have been like. He breathes soft and slow and runs his fingers through her hair. Her arms are wrapped around him and she can feel his heart beat against his chest. She can hear his heart beat against his chest. She loves him and would do anything for him. She wants to make love to him but doesn’t. Instead she just holds him and listens to his body. She loves him and would do anything for him. They sit holding each other until they are both sleeping in each other’s arms. This is where they truly excelled… sleeping… their sanctuary.