A. L. Kaplan

Tag: alone

  • THE FOG OF MEMORY

    I stare at the old barn through the thick mist. My heart pounds. That barn burned down thirty years ago. Police thought a dropped lighter and moonshine turned that tinder-trap into a lethal blaze. But that wasn’t the cause. I grasp the doorframe; listen to the echoes of the past.

    Popular kids like them didn’t ask girls like me to parties, but I was too desperate for companionship to see the warning signs. Besides, Brenton was cute. I sipped my soda while they swigged booze and studied how everyone stumbled through the barn. Drunk was ugly.

    I didn’t realize just how ugly until a few more sips into my drink. The walls started to spin. I sank to the ground, limbs heavy and numb. Brenton loomed over me, a strange grin on his face. Before I could get up two of his friends held me down and started to cut away my clothes. I screamed, told them to stop, let me go. They laughed. Nobody could hear me. No one was coming to my rescue. Brenton climbed on top of me.

    I don’t remember anything else after that. My clothes vanished. I woke up in my bed, neatly washed and wearing my fleece jammies. Police found three bodies in the charred remains of the barn, toasted from the inside out.

    There’s a good reason I stay away from people, hunt alone. Smoke rises from the doorframe. Flames shoot skyward, engulfing the structure again. I’m unharmed. I never am.

  • Og Returns

    Og limped into the cave, cursing as the porcupine quills in his arm dug deeper. He was supposed to bring back meat for the tribe to prove he wasn’t cursed. That plan backfired horribly. Not only would the medicine man not treat Og’s wounds, they banished him forever. Alone, hurt.

    Something small and dark moved in the shadows making strange grunting sounds. Og tensed, ready to run but it was only a small bear. It would make a good dinner, but Og was too tired. Besides, he lost his spear and stone knife fighting the porcupine. He had only his two hands which the baby bear began to lick. Og picked up the bear and carried it outside.

    “Og need cave for new home. You too little for nice big cave. Go play in grass with pretty flowers.”

    Sad brown eyes stared at Og, alone, driven from his home. Og wiped a tear from his eye and carried the bear back into the cave. They curled up together all warm and cozy, friends.

    Og woke to a loud roar and a big angry bear. He stood over the baby bear, facing the vicious teeth and razor sharp claws.

    “You no hurt little bear. He Og’s friend.”

    Shimmering light surrounded the bear. Og rubbed his eyes, confused. When he looked again, the big bear was gone, instead a pretty woman in a bear cape smiled at him. Women never looked at Og like that before. Maybe Og finally did something right.