am a creature of great beauty and grace. . . . I spread my wings wide and fly
away," Zymedocin snorted.
He proudly arched his sleek,
silver neck. The sun glittered from the metallic brilliance, casting an effervescent
lavender sheen from his long flowing mane. His wings, spread in
"Christ! What drivel! I can't believe
I wrote this crap," Karyn muttered. "Here I'm supposed to be seriously
working on that 'First Aid For Dogs' piece, and I write this garbage.
God, where is my mind!?"
She ripped the paper from her typewriter,
crumpling it, and threw it in the general direction of her wastebasket.
"Zymedocin . . . 'effervescent lavender
sheen'. Now where did I come up with that?" she wondered. "I must be
working too damn hard."
Karyn stood up, rolling her neck slowly
as she stretched her 5'3" frame to its highest. Glancing down at her
typewriter, she wrinkled her petite nose and snorted inelegantly. She
left her office, her dark brown ponytail bouncing and swinging with
"I'll grab a cup of coffee, then get
back to work. Gotta meet my deadline," she muttered, walking into the
kitchen. "Free lance articles . . . god, there has to be a better way
to make a living."
She pulled her favorite mug from the
cupboard, barely glancing at the phrase on it, 'Since I used up all
my sick time, I'll have to call in dead!'. Karyn loved that mug, the
phrase normally brought on a giggle or two. She poured her cup of coffee,
forgetting to add cream.
I wonder what his wings look like,
she thought, as she brought the mug to her lips.
"Damn! That's hot!" She gingerly patted at her lip, then
turned and strode back into her office.
"And who cares what some stupid wings
look like! I gotta get to work," she said.
Karyn banged her mug onto her desk, hot
coffee sloshing over the rim. Several of the small puddles splattered
around her work area united in the old desks scratched surface, quickly
formed a large pool. The spilled coffee dripped slowly and steadily
to the floor.
Karyn dropped into her chair, not noticing
the small puddle of cold coffee at her feet as she immediately began
hammering at the typewriter keys, immersing herself in the mundane article
she had previously received, and spent, her royalties for.
"Symptoms of heatstroke are," she said,
"lying prone, ..."
with glistening transparency, slowly shifting to and fro, thrilling in their
preparation for flight. His muscles flexing, expanding.
"I am Zymedocin, all powerful
. . ." he said, feeling the power surging through him. Power, and
"Oh my God, not again!" she exclaimed.
"Man, all that work, wasted! I can't believe this."
Karyn stared at the paper on which she
had been working, her eyes opened wide in disbelief while she read what
she had written.
"So," she said, her eyes narrowing in
disgusted resignation, "you've decided to try your hand at fiction,
eh? Well, that ain't what pays the bills!"
She tore the paper from her typewriter,
and began shredding it into tiny pieces. Grabbing a clean sheet of paper,
she stuffed it into her typewriter.
"I'll finish this stupid article, if
it's the last thing I do," she muttered, pounding on the keys, beginning
where she had left off.
The life force was flowing stronger now. He could feel his life-form expanding,
taking over. Soon his strength would be at full force. He stretched his arms,
reaching . . . reaching
"No! No! What's happening to me?" she
cried. Karyn jumped up, knocking her chair over.
She began shaking from the force she had been feeling.
"Who are you? What do you want?" she
sobbed, tears flowing freely down her face. "Why won't you leave me
Turning, Karyn ran from her office. She
raced through the house, stopping when she slowly sensed the space,
the relative safety, of her backyard. She sank to the ground, wrapping
her arms around her knees. Her sobs slowly dwindled and died, as she
gradually became aware of her surroundings.
A robin flying overhead brought a wavering
smile to her face, the sun warmed her cool skin. The distant sound of
neighborhood children playing gave her a sense of normalcy. Karyn drew
a deep breath.
"What," she quietly questioned, "came
over me? I must've been working too hard. Probably too much coffee,
and not enough food. Yeah, that's it. I'm probably just hungry."
Karyn sighed deeply then muttered, "Well, I'll just relax here a minute,
then go make myself a bite to eat."
Closing her eyes, resting her head on
her knees, Karyn drew in a deep, calming breath.
"Wha? Huh?" Karyn awoke with a start.
She looked up towards the now setting sun.
"Geez," she said, "I must have been tired!
Yeah, more'n likely I just needed some sleep. Guess I better get back
to 'First Aid.' I've had enough of a break."
She stretched and rose, her nose wrinkling
over the sudden jolt she felt from her stiff legs. Karyn walked back
into the house, stiff legged.
Irritated by the tingling sensation she
felt in her now awakening legs, Karyn stomped her feet while she paused
in the kitchen. She cautiously walked over to the cupboard, hoping the
tingling sensation would diminish with each ginger step she took.
"I suppose," she said, "I should get
a bite now, since I'm here." Rummaging through her cupboards, she quickly
located a can of clam chowder on the second shelf. She grabbed the can
of soup, then set it down on the counter unopened. She realized she
wasn't all that hungry.
I guess, she thought, I'm just
looking for an excuse not to head back to my typewriter . . . and that's
really lame. She grinned, beginning to feel foolish for her
"What a ninny I am," she said, "Now,
get back to work, Karyn-girl." She left the kitchen, sheepishly shaking
her head. Entering her office, Karyn was firmly resolved to finish the
"Let's see, where was I? Oh yeah, heatstroke
symptoms . . . hmm, now what. . . ? I . . . thought . . . I," she muttered,
wiping at the smudge on her paper, "put a clean . . . what is that?" She wiped harder, feeling the smudge
"Almost feels like an eraser . . . c'mon!
Oh, the hell with it!" She sharply jabbed at the keys. "What is that! Oh, no!" she screamed,
"God, no!" Karyn watched in horror, as a hand poured out of the paper,
You are the Giver of Life. You are to be . . ." he paused.
"No!" she shrilly screamed, "Get away
from me! Don't touch me!" I must be mad, she thought, this
can't be happening.
silvery form, his head, surfaced on the paper. His eyes glowed, the lavender
starkly vivid against the deep aqua rim's, his mouth a glaring yellow. He spilled
from the paper, solidifying before her, reaching for her, speaking to her.
"My soul mate," he continued,
"You . . . the Giver of Life, and I, Zymedocin, will become as one. And so it
His arms opened wide, ready
to enfold her, to drag her close to him.
"No!" she screamed.
happens next, Daddy?" his daughter asked. "Will she marry him?"
"Don't be stupid!" her
brother exclaimed, "He'll eat her, won't he, Father! The Hero always gets his
"Now, now, children," the
Father said, "don't quarrel." He smiled down at the silvery, misshapen children,
his lavender eyes gleaming. "What happens next, really depends on what your
mother types . . ."
I am mad, she thought, so this is what insanity is like.
Karyn heard -- no, felt -- her
screams. The vibrations slowly faded as she gradually became aware of
her surroundings. Glancing at her typewriter where it lay on the floor,
she saw the casing was cracked. It must have fallen off her desk when
she had jumped away from that . . . thing. Hysterical giggles burst
from deep within her.
"Damn, I need a drink," she chuckled.
Slowly turning, she looked around her office.
"No bogey man or bogey children lurking
around here," she whispered shakily, "Well, maybe I just need a break.
Yeah, that's it, I've been working too hard . . . living on coffee .
. . no sleep . . . no food, or, lousy food. I'll just phone my editor,
tell him I need an extension on my deadline."
Karyn shuffled slowly towards the bar
in her living room, and poured herself a liberal shot of cherry vodka. "Man, oh man," she sighed, "What a nightmare!"
She quickly swallowed the sweet drink, then refilled her glass. New
drink in hand, Karyn walked over to her favorite spot, and slumped down
onto the window seat. She didn't bother to look out the window, as she
sat huddled. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she slowly began
rocking, back and forth.
"Bogey man's gonna get ya, bogey man's
gonna get ya," she sing songed, "Wrap his arms, oh-so-tight . . . suck
your life, with all his might . . . cause bogey man's gonna get ya."
Her eyes slowly shut, as the childish chant lulled her to sleep.
"Doctor," the nurse said, "the subject
is in REM sleep, now. Do we continue with the injections? Or do we have
enough data?" The nurse turned away from the two-way mirror. She looked
at her boss, barely able to hide the revulsion she felt.
What we're doing to her is so wrong,
she thought, as the doctor looked up from the paper he
"Nurse Jones," he said dryly, "as my
assistant in this research, you should be well aware that there is no
such thing as 'enough data'! Of course we will continue with the injections."
Dismissing both the nurse and subject from his mind, he turned back
to his papers.
The nurse turned sharply away from the
mirror and strode over to the locked refrigerator. She grabbed a syringe
from the counter as she jerked her keys from her pocket. Pulling a vial
from the refrigerator, she filled the syringe. The experimental drug,
zymedocin, was a drug designed to mentally destroy the enemy -- any
enemy -- by eating away their needed supply of Vitamin B. It sat next
to another vial, the antidote -- niacin.
Karyn could feel someone looking at her.
She felt queasy. Looking around her living room, she felt a momentary
panic. She was suddenly unable to remember why she was there, or what
she was suppose to be doing. Slowly, she stood up and turned to her
This is so confusing, she thought,
I know I'm suppose to be working on something right now.
Her disorientation continued as she viewed the damage she had done earlier
to her office.
"Well," she nervously chuckled, "this
is a fine mess we got ourselves into, Ollie." Karyn sat down at her
typewriter. Her fingers trembled, poised over the keyboard. Then, they swiftly
flew across the keys. Fragments of sentences appeared, words she knew
had nothing to do with dog first aide. Words like Zymedocin . . . effervescent
lavender sheen . . . Giver of Life . . . glistening transparency.
mate," he said, "you are afraid."
"Why have you come," she asked, "will
you hurt me?" She typed faster, allowing her subconscious to guide her.
Giver of Life," he replied, "I mean you no harm. I mean to protect you." He
poured forth from the paper, once again becoming a solid life-form before her.
Karyn stared at the magnificent, silver
creature before her, awed by the power she felt emanating from him.
She slowly stood up.
"Protect me from what?" she asked. "Who
paced around the room, stopping when he was once again in front of her typewriter.
"You are the Giver of Life,"
he said, "you are the one I must answer to. I was sent to protect you from .
. ." He paused in his explanation and flinched. "It is too late," he stated,
"She has come."
"Who?" Karyn screamed, "Who is 'She'?"
The nurse turned away, unwilling to watch any longer. Her job
was done. She had given the injection, as ordered.
Nurse Jones left the room Karyn thought of as her living room,
heading back to the other side of the two-way mirror. She glanced at
the camera before recording the subject's descent into madness, the
experiment continuing. Progress, Nurse Jones thought, is sometimes a painful
process. But at least I don't have to watch this anymore.
She put her coat on, and turned to the doctor.
"I've given the subject her
final dose, doctor. The camera is on. I'll see you tomorrow." The nurse left
the building, her thoughts turning to what she would prepare for her supper.